#tw infantilization

[hwaitham]

𝓯𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ‎

wriothesley x sub!f!reader . nsfw — mdni . rewrite + repost from old blog ﾉ established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ breeding ﾉ oral [ m -> f ] ﾉ dirty talkin' ooo finger suckin' ooooo (๑ ˃̵͈́ᵕ˂̵͈̀ ) ﾉ infantilization + mindbreak ﾉ praise ﾉ lotsa petnames [ babydoll + little girl + princess + sweetheart + baby ] ﾉ sappie wuvie dovie sex bcos ! ! well :3 it's me !

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now— three hours after the stronghold’s annual boxing spectacle, two hours after champagne showers, one hour after all the prisoners and gardes have made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now, nearly— it’s pitch black, nearly, save for the warm yellow flickers of the half-functioning light fixture hanging above the ring’s canvas, the image it casts on the rusty steel walls of two bodies pressed together.

a dancing shadow of your back curling into a perfect arch off the floor, the tilts and turns of wriothesley’s head as he fervently suckles on your clit with alcohol-stained lips, the heels of your frilly-socked feet digging further into his shoulder blades, toes wriggling within the lavender fabric.

“daddy—!”

“pussy tastes so good—”

“pleasepleaseplease— won’t last if you keep— h-huuughh…”

“so fuckin’ sweet— shit, babydoll.”

it’s not like your lover to dirty talk you like this— obscenely and unabashedly and so greedily— licking and sucking and slurping and huffing, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs, past the white stockings he’s fortuitously torn off your legs where he now leaves little mauve moons upon your skin.

your lover is usually all grunts and groans and whines that get tangled in his throat— but you adore it when he gets like this. you adore it when he gets all touchy and clingy and desperate for your love after he’s knocked back a couple drinks, you adore the carnivorous growl in his voice when he tells you, fuck, princess, need you so bad, you adore the shower of praise and kisses and bold touches where his heart lies in his fingertips and he smudges lines of pink and red all over your flesh.

“pretty little pussy’s all mine… look at you, sweet thing practically drooling for daddy, yeah?” wriothesley moans, speaking more to your cunt instead of you, and pulls away, slick strung in a thin ribbon that connects his lip to the pearl of your clit. he watches how your hole twitches and clamps around air as it searches for something that only he can give you— hungry and ready with how much of your sticky cream oozes from it and drips down the globe of your ass, soaks the silk of his scarlet boxing robe that you lay atop of.

and your daddy’s right— it is practically drooling, so pathetically leaking for him. 

“fuckin’ gorgeous.”

a glob of saliva builds under his tongue at the sight, and he gathers it in the purse of his lips before spitting it out onto your pussy, watching the frothy bubbles cling to your skin, laughing lowly when you begin to whimper and writhe beneath him, knead biscuits on his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

“daddy, ‘s embarrassing when you look, o-oh—!” your protests are shushed when he collects the stringy mixture of his spit and your slick from your pussy and moves back up to meet your lips, kiss you messily.

“ah, ah, ahhh… don’t get all shy on m’now, sweetheart.”

the peach champagne on his tongue hits you after the sugary saltiness of your release, and evidently, you realize he must be drunk by the slur of his words, the greedy paws that cup your pussy, and then grab at your hips, your waist, your breasts.

a sharp glint of bright white has one of your eyes squeezing shut when wriothesley shifts to look down at you, his smile nothing short of beguiling. his frame is wide— broad shoulders and a strapping chest and sinewy arms that you’re caged under, the gold of the medal hanging loosely off his veiny neck reflecting the light from above.

and, oh, wriothesley thinks you look so pretty when the heavy metal thuds against your cheek amidst his soft swaying— he thinks you’ll look even prettier with his victory wrapped around your neck, because what’s his is yours, yours is his; you belong to him and he belongs to you.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bringing the gold up to his lips, he places a sweet kiss on it, lowering the medal back down to you so you can place another one right on top of his, baritone voice losing it’s primal growl and replaced with something more silky, loving. “fuck, couldn’t have won this without you.”

your fingers scrabble at one of wriothesley’s hands, holding it tight to your chest— to your heart— because you think the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough to have you losing balance and falling into an abyssal love. but that’s okay, that’s where you belong, deep, drowning in it, because you love him, you love him, you love him.

“love you, i love you, daddy— so, so much; love you forever…”

and the fortress’ duke thinks you just might kill him, with that admission.

with that milky, fuzzy, adoring look in your eyes, and how you press his palm to your heart, serve him your entire soul on a diamond-embedded platter— it cuts into his chest and carves deep into his flesh. your words are flames, and they are but dew on his skin, soothing and healing. 

something knots in his throat; and all of a sudden he feels overwhelmed— by the rush of alcohol in his blood, by how sweet you’re being for him, by the painful ache of his leaky cock as he slides the length up and down your folds, each of his movements decorated by a tiny whimper that’s pried from your throat.

“fuuuuck, haha— love your daddy that much, huh? well, i love you, princess. love you even after forever.” wriothesley hunches over so close to you, cupping your cheeks with such delicate care— as if you’re crafted from the finest porcelain— before he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, shoving an eternity’s worth of promises and secrets down into your lungs.

he pulls back shortly thereafter to admire your kiss-swollen lips, wiping the pearls that dew at your lashes from just how achingly painful your weeping cunt feels— from how awfully you need to have your daddy inside you.

“inside— nghhh, wanna feel you inside, wanna—”

“i know, i know, but can you be a big girl ‘nd wait a little longer? can y’do that for daddy?” he shushes you with a sweet coo and prod of his thumb at the swell of your bottom lip, gathering the drool that sits there, before you obediently take the digit into your mouth. his cock jumps against your clit and wriothesley doesn’t realize that his mouth has been watering at the show you’ve been putting on for him until a drop of spit lands on your shoulder— your smaller fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist to hold his hand in place, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb, licking the tip repeatedly and hollowing your cheeks, giving his thumb the same attention and care you would his cock.

“a-awhhh, shit— you’re such a good girl, mhm?”

your hips grind up mindlessly against your lover’s cock at his praise and your mind fogs up in submission, taking the digit deeper, deeper, suckling and licking until you’re drivelling spit down your chin, giggling stupidly and coating his heart in fondant. “mhmmm, hehe—! wanna be your good girl, daddy…”

“yeah? archons, you’re so cute,” he chuckles with you, shaking his head at how you’ve already gone featherbrained from so much as a mere suckle of his finger, pinching your cheek softly within his thumb and forefinger. “gonna put it in now, ‘kay? gonna give you your cock ‘nd you’re gonna take it; like my good little girl.”

with his free hand, he holds the heavy weight of his cock in the palm, tapping it over your clit and thumbing at his slit to coax more pre out from it, using the glossy cream to lubricate you further as he slowly pushes his aching, flushed tip past the tight ring of muscle lining your entrance. there’s a lewd, wet pop that follows when he gets his bulbous head settled in between your sticky walls, and he can’t suppress the noise— something in between a groan and laugh— that escapes him.

“fuuuck me, y’hear that?” squelch, squelch, squelch. “haha, that’s my liquid luck.”

“uh huh, ‘s yours, daddy— ‘s all yours, i’m all youuurs,” your voice comes out as a sweet, broken keen, one that dizzies wriothesley and has blood flooding his cock.

“a-ah, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear…” his breathing picks up as he shallowly thrusts himself deeper into your cunt— it hugs him like a vice— like it loves him, his cock, like it wants to milk it dry. 

and without warning, he sinks fully inside of you until he’s buried deep in your sopping cunt— it’s a perfect fit. where his oozing tip is pressed up snugly against your cervix, every ridge and vein hitting all the right spots that line your walls. 

you drawl out a pitchy whine of his designation at the sudden split of his cock, hiccuping on your breath as he leans his whole weight on you and pushes your thighs back to meet your chest until the backs of your knees land on his shoulders, hips gyrating to grind his pubic bone down on your puffy bud. it soothes the sharp tremors of pain ripping through your core, washing them over with waves of pleasure, and you can only arch your chest up into his almost instinctually, fingers finding his face to trace sloppy stars over high-set cheekbones. 

“daddy, daddyyyy, i wanna k-kiss…”

your boyfriend smiles adoringly in response, not ignoring the heavy throbs and twitches of his cock within your drooling cunt at how fucking stunning you look underneath him: pouty and glassy-eyed as you weakly tug him closer by the lanyard of his medal, all ditsy and limbs pliable like the sweet little baby doll of his that you are, head near empty with nothing but daddy, daddy, daddy on your brain.

wriothesley finds himself unable to do anything but indulge your desperation, brushing his lips against yours softly— once, twice, until he feels your velvety breath settle in his lungs, and then he’s left craving more. 

“ohhh, baby, so tight.” his hips begin to rock against yours, and with each drag of his fat cock along your gummy walls, a hot knot begins to boil in the pit of your stomach. 

your lips break free from wriothesley’s when his thumb finds your clit, feeling him trace his name over the sensitive nub, gazing up at him through your dumbed out doe eyes, tongue caught in between your teeth in a dreamy little smile. because he looks so handsome like this, so, so gorgeous with raven and sleet slicked back by his fingers and the small strands that bounce and fall and curl around the pinch of his brows— it’s like he’s made of stardust and moonshine and tufts of clouds from the celestial skies.

“you won me this gold medal, what d’you wan’ in return? a ring? fuck— i’d give you the whole universe if you asked. put the fuckin’ oceans in the sky for you.”

an erotic mewl escapes you from how romantic he’s being and you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize the effect his champagne-kissed words have on you— your toes curl and hips grind up mindlessly into his, pussy throbbing on his cock when your clit brushes against the cream-frosted hairs at the base.

the hard clamp of your walls peels a low groan from him, head hanging low and medal gently slapping your cheek with each slow, deep stroke, “s-shit, you like that, huh? tell me what you want, sweetheart—"

“want your cum— want it inside— in here,” you cut him off with needy babbles as you bring his palms to your tummy, laying them gently over the love bites that scatter your flesh likes the stars scatter the night sky— an eternal reminder that you’re his. “please, pretty pleaseee— wanna make you a papa— mhnn!” 

and then he’s plunging into you deeper than ever before, cutting your words short, breaking them off into pitchy little pants as he presses his crotch flush against your messy, web-coated folds and swirls the tip of his dick deliciously over that one spongy spot where you’ve been needing to feel him the most.

“awh, you wanna make me a daddy? but i already am one, aren’t i?” he teases, runs his knuckles under your jaw and tugs on the plump of your lip with his teeth.

flustered by his words, you whine, shake your head petulantly and try to hide your face from him with the back of your hand. squeeze your eyes shut bashfully. melt his heart into icing and frost cupcakes with it. “nuh uhhh, you know ’s not what i mean…”

it’s staggering— how adorable you’re being for him, with your sweet pleas and darling little whines, he can’t help but huff out a growl through gritted teeth before leaning down to gather your lips in a kiss; it’s filled with so much love and so much fervour when he swallows your pretty cries with his tongue in your mouth and, fuck, he’s certain that even the mere thought of stuffing you full of his seed is enough to bring him down to his knees.

“perfect— you’re my perfect little doll, yeah? gonna make you a mother, gonna make you my wife, gonna make you the happiest girl alive.” 

and it’s all so much, too much, the thumb he has pressed flat against your tongue to pacify your sobs, the promises he washes your tears away with, the sound of gold thudding harshly against the canvas of the floor when he thrusts into you at a different angle— one that has the tip of his cock knocking at the sponge of your cervix in a way where your hips rock up into his own. “daddydaddydaddy, please, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cuuuum—!”

“my sweet girl’s already fucked silly? got nothin’ but cock on your little brain, uh huh?”

“uh huh, uh huhhhh— wan’ daddy’s cock, wan’ daddy’s cum, wanna— mmph!”

your mindless babbling pulls a harsh guttural noise deep from wriothesley’s stomach, his vision doubling at the shaky lilt to your voice, at the manicured nails that dig into his biceps and claw red wings there— an eternal reminder that he’s yours. “oh, baby, that’s it, there you go— c’mon, be a big girl and cum all over my cock.” 

“n-no! nonono, wanna cum with youuu—” you cut him off with a sharp keen, wailing out when you feel him start to thrust harder, faster, pearls of your slick and his pre spluttering out to fall as dewdrops on your thighs. doing your best to wrap your arms around his neck amidst the jostles of your body, you pull wriothesley in closer, closer, until his lips meet yours and there’s no space for air between the two of you. 

he can’t help but crumble to ashes as you weep into the kiss, as you cling to him— it’s heart-wrenchingly cute how badly you need him. your slurred whimpers of, daddy, daddy please cum— wan’ it in me f’ever, remind him of just how much he loves you, so much, it reminds him that he is the only one for you in this timeline and every other, he is the only one that can ever make you feel this way— and, fuck, it fills him with a rush that he’s certain he’ll never find in anything else. the knot of fire that treads up his spine coils tighter on itself at the sound of your pitchy breaths and pathetic whines. 

it brings wriothesley to the heavens, and soon enough, he’s prattling on and tripping over his words just as you had been, drooling drivelling from his lips like a fucking dog.

“shiiit, all those pretty fuckin’ sounds you make, h-hah, gonna make me cum, baby— you want that? wanna make daddy cum? want his seed so deep inside ya? yeah, ohhh, i know you do, c’mon then, milk this fuckin’ cock, ’s all yours.”

and so, you moan and whimper and cry out for your daddy, goaded by his words and his cock moulding your cunt to the shape of him, toes curling and tapping helplessly over his shoulder, your orgasm flying through you from head to toe. “fuck, fuck fuck, daddy— ‘m cum’ng— cummiiiing, daddyyy—!”

it’s nothing short of endearing, how you clutch at the nape of his neck and whimper in the junction of his neck, little incoherent mumbles falling onto deaf ears. because when you cum, wriothesley cums too, seeing white, a strangled whine ripping from his throat when tiny squirts push past your hole where the creamy base of his cock sticks to your cunt and thick ribbons of his milk paint the walls of your womb.

your heart dances with wriothesley’s when they meet on the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing against yours with so much delicate care and a boyish chuckle pushing past him when your hips swirl in cute little motions to catch your clit on his pubic bone, grinding up and chasing his cock to keep it plugging you full. “wrio.” 

it comes out as a sniffle, and he can’t help but blush at the small pout you send his way. 

“yeah, princess?” he moves back to pull out of you, but your legs slip down from his shoulders in between his arms to wrap around his waist, ensuring his full length is kept inside your stuffed hole.

“if you move it’ll all leak out,” you whine, pitchy and puerile, “don’t want it to— wan’ it to stay in me forever and ever…”

his seed as a sliver of him in your tummy, a sliver of his love kept in your body until the end of time— his head falls forward into your neck where he can only bring himself to huff out an endearing laugh and repeat your words, “forever ‘nd ever, huh…?”

“mhm… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd even after that.”

you tug on the medal’s lanyard to prompt him to meet your gaze, absolutely cockdrunk and bambi-eyed with your bottom lip tugged coyly into your top teeth— wriothesley knows that look well, you cheeky little minx; and you giggle when you clamp down around him once more, coaxing another tiny rope of milk from his slit, evident by a sharp moan that escapes him mid-breath.

“you’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

he's dizzy— either from all the alcohol or the intensity of his high or a mix of both, but he still manages to bar you to his chest with two steady hands against your back and raise you both so that you’re sitting upright on the floor, and you cry out at the shift in position, at how his cock is nestled so incredibly deep inside that you swear you can feel him piercing your womb.

and it’s a sound that so sweet, so tooth-rottingly sweet, because wriothesley can’t help but mutter out small proclamations of his love as he lays them all over your face, can’t help the excruciating ache in his limbs and muscles and the uncomfortable twist and turn of his organs because, archons, he loves you.

“gold looks good on you, wrio,” you whisper, cheeks burning with warmth and popping like corn from how wide your smile is, from the accidental tickle of his fleeting touches.

you’re floating— high on his love, floating higher, higher, until you’re swimming in the oceans he put in the sky for you, the waterfalls up in the clouds. 

the loss of his touch brings you back down to earth— his fingers are sticky, sweet and salty with drying champagne and a mix of your releases, but he could care less when he removes the medal from his neck and hangs it around yours, carefully laying the gold flat on your sternum, right above your heart.

and maybe he jumps the gun a little when he rubs your ring finger and searches for something that’s not there— his soul fanning across your face in sweet breaths when he starts thinking about white picket fences and a little angel with his hair, your eyes, his nose, your smile— the most beautiful blessing of all.

“well, i think it looks better on you.”

do u evr hate a character so much you wnt to write the most unabashedly horny smut for them . bcos i do ♡ anw hehe :3 tusm for readin ! ! ‎٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope u liked dis n' it made u just as flustered as i felt when writing ⭐️ pls consider commenting ﾉ reblogging if u enjoyed aaa ( =v= ) it wld make mi so happie yayayayyy ! !

[black-aurora-nora]

New Baby Pt. 2 | Yandere!Todoroki Family x Reader

Quiet sobs could be heard from behind the door of the room you now slept in.

Enji had thought you'd be more understanding and compliant if you received a letter and 'paperwork' showing that your parents had given the Todoroki's legal guardianship over you.

However, to his shock, that only seemed to upset you more.

You asked him to leave the room in such a thin, sullen voice that he couldn't help but oblige.

Now he, and the rest of the family, were sitting at the dinner table watching their food go cold.

Your seat was still empty.

All eyes were on Enji, wondering what the next move was.

"I'll... I'll get (Y/N) out of her room by lunchtime," He said. "Even if she's still upset."

Rei nodded, shifting her attention to her kids, "And make sure that everyone is extra nice today. (Y/N) has obviously felt some big feelings and I don't want her to get too overwhelmed like yesterday. Understood?"

Three nods and Rei smiled back in answer, "Good."

When it was time for lunch, just like Enji had said, he got you out of your room.

Everyone's hearts crumbled at the sight of you. Your eyes were puffy underneath and red. It was obvious all you did today was cry your heart out.

At the table, you were seated between Enji and Rei.

You could feel everyone staring at you while you tried to eat.

When you couldn’t take the staring anymore, you put your utensils down, unable to make eye contact as you asked, “How long will I be staying here?”

“There’s no telling.” Enji answered firmly, “If your parents can get back on their feet, they will come back and get you.”

You shuffled in your seat slightly. “How long will that take?”

“Let’s not discuss this over dinner, sweetheart.” Reid’s voice cut in.

There was no need for you to keep thinking about your old parents anyway. It made you too upset. She’d be a much better mommy anyhow. You’d see soon enough and would forget all about your other mom.

After dinner, Fuyumi took you to the shower room.

“Here, you get the use the shower before the dirty boys do.” She smiled kindly.

She made sure you had the proper necessities and even let you pick out whatever body wash you wanted from her personal collection.

You liked how kind she was. It was nothing like Enji, who was always towering over you and bleeding with intimidation.

“Just shout if you need something.” She told you and left you alone.

A nice wash and soak was a good start to bettering your mood. Maybe you could ask Enji or Rei if you could call your parents tomorrow to get a better idea of the situation.

It wasn’t like them to just leave a letter.

Wrapped in a towel, you strolled back to your room to find Rei sitting on your bed.

Beside her was a pair of expensive-looking silk pajamas.

She smiled at you despite the uncomfortable look on your face, “I hope you don’t mind that I picked out some pajamas for you. We bought these for you last minute.” She explained coolly.

She stood up, “We can go shopping this week to get you your own clothes, how does that sound, (Y/N)?” She tilted her head at you, waiting for an answer.

You clutched the towel closer to your body, “What about my old clothes?”

She chuckled at you, as if you’d said something silly.

“You don’t need to worry about that. New clothes never hurt anybody.”

You supposed that was true. It would probably be nice to get out.

You walked over to the pajamas and then looked over at Rei. Why hadn’t she left yet?

She didn’t seem to be taking the hint and threw you a concerned glance, “What’s wrong? Do you need my help?”

You immediately shook your head, “No!” You yelped. “I-I need privacy, please… Mrs. Todoroki.”

“Oh! Of course you do!” How could Rei have forgotten? You were a big girl. Of course you could dress yourself.

She left the room, standing right outside in case you needed help at any point.

Once you had your pajamas on, you had to admit that they felt quite nice. The silk was soft and smooth. It was comfortably cool against your skin as well.

At some point as you finished getting ready for bed, you gasped sharply when you banged your hand against the counter of the vanity in your room.

Rei burst into the room.

"Did you hurt yourself?!" Rei asked, panic clear in her voice. She reached out for your hand and you yanked it back, "Let mama see, (Y/N)," She told you sternly.

You flinched at the word.

Mama.

You looked at her as if she'd grown another head and frowned deeply, "You... You're not my mom, Mrs. Todoroki."

Rei looked so upset at that declaration that you would've thought you'd shot her.

You could see that she was incredibly hurt by what you'd said but she masked it with a smile, chuckling to herself, "Right, of course I'm not... Force of habit."

After an awkward goodnight, she left your room disheartened.

Enji was waiting for her in their shared room, arms crossed with a frown. “What the hell is wrong with you, woman?!”

Rei flinched back, “I jus-“

“You’re moving too fast, is what you’re doing! Stop forcing yourself on her! Do you want her to hate you?”

“No, Enji, I don’t.”

“Then slow down. I had to pay a good amount to get guardianship of (Y/N). We can’t mess this up because you can’t control yourself.”

Rei kept her head down, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll apologize to (Y/N) tomorrow.”

Enji huffed approvingly, laying down in his bed and turning over.

This wasn’t going to be easy for either one of you.

Taglist:

@yumuramma

[autiebiographical]

It's so insulting to know that just being a partner of an autistic person can get you labeled such horrid things simply because of people's incorrect beliefs surrounding autistic adults.

[thetreefairy]

Hiii, for your event can i request prompt 5 and 7 for platonic yandere gojo! With a student reader and a purge au? ❤️

Thank you for requesting<3, unfortunately I was feeling rather sick so this is a bit later then I intended. And I made it way longer then expected Prompt 5: "Don't run away~! It just gives me a reason to hurt you!" prompt 7: "You should be praised for how much of an idiot you are."

Gn student reader

Warnings: swearing, gojo is mocking reader, infantilization, kidnapping, reader jumps out the window, gojo is just an ass reading after this point is at your own viewership.

Ko-Fi - Event - Event masterlist

Reader couldn't believe it, they had gotten a purge letter.

A fucking purge letter from Gojo Satoru, their teacher. And now they still had 2 days until the purge.

Megumi knew that something was wrong right away, he and Reader were quite close friends. However knowing that Reader wouldn't tell him if it was just him asking he asked his classmates and Gojo.

So after class they ambushed Reader.

"Reader, why are being so fidgety?" Megumi asked with a worried tone. "I am not!" Reader retorted, hearing Gojo scoff causing them to tense up.

"Yeah, you are! Did you get a purge letter or something?" Yuji shot at Reader. "You know we can help you right?" Kugisaki added. But reader knew the condition under that, as long as it isn't one of them.

"I am leaving, I'll see you guys after the purge." Reader grins at them, causing Gojo to smirk, then their classmates to figure it out.

Even if Reader somehow escaped he had all year to convince them to just live with him. After all, they need a good parent figure. Perhaps he can convince his students to help...

.

.

.

Reader had made sure they had all what they needed, a weapon, a bag with basic necessities and a comfort item. Reader put on their comfort bracelet, all of their doors were locked and now they just had to hide.

But it was a bit too late.

"This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

For 24 hours every yandere action will be legal except Murder and causing any permanent bodily harm to your darling, 'marking' however is allowed if your darling is a romantic darling..

The police cannot be called, the paramedics can only be called in deathly situations"

Gojo couldn't wait, his child would finally be safe in his arms. He was sure that the process would be a bit awkward, but as long as Reader would be a obedient child... Everything would be fine.

But unfortunately for his patience Reader won't be going without a fight.

At first Gojo knocked on the door, hearing Reader shuffle away quietly to hide.

"Reader~, can't you open the door for me?" He asked in a humming tone. "Papa will be kind then."

He could basically hear them hiding away. He kicked open the door. Reader heard this and bit their cheek. They couldn't make a noise, Gojo needs to think they aren't here.

Unfortunately for you Gojo heard you, he entered the room you were in. He could see that Reader was desperately trying to find a place to hide. But when Reader saw him they backed up to the window.

"Come here." He told them. "Why don't we just turn in quietly, huh?"

"No." Reader mumbled. "You are going to leave, and leave me alone." Gojo chuckled. "Reader, my dear child, you have no say in this."

His eyes widening as they broke the window behind them, his anger and annoyance increasing. "Don't run away~!" He cooed. "It just gives me a reason to hurt you."

"Shut up!" Reader shouted. "If you take one step closer I'll jump out of this window without using my curse technique!"

Gojo glared at Reader. "Don't you dare."

"Then, stay as you are." They hissed, causing Gojo to chuckle. "You don't make the rules." he said.

"It's still the purge." Reader hissed. "You have no legal rights over me."

"Yet." He said in a happy tone. "My darling child, are you foolish enough to believe you can escape?"

Gojo didn't want to activate his curse technique, he knew Reader gets uneasy even using their own.

He took a step forward, and reader did just what they warned they would do.

They jumped out the window.

Gojo now had no choice but to activate infinity to try and get Reader safely on the ground, which he was able to. But not without injury.

This caused him to laugh, his child looked like a deer running away from the predator. "You should be praised for how much of an idiot you are." He hummed, Reader glared at him.

They lost their freedom rather quickly, but perhaps they can win the next purge.

[angelcwre]

READ ME !

[ DOM! SCARAMOUCHE X FEM! READER SMUT ]

scaramouche having the urge to barge in your room to see you in your little baby pink mini skirt paired w a fitted top that shows off ur boobs n having a thigh high socks w little pink ribbons in the middle..

he knows you're his little house roomie but he can't seem to get his mind off of u :( not when he saw you walk around the house last night with a thin night gown that barely reaches your thigh, no bra, and only wearing a lace panty. :(((

he can't live with this anymore! knowing that you guys are home alone right now, he immediately slams the door shut and asks if he can join u in bed. u gladly say yes :3

then he starts to get right ontop of you, the feeling of his bulge against your cute ass that you oh-so gladly lifts up to meet his..

he starts to dry hump you, as you whimper out.

"scara- !" the sounds of your cute noises turns him on so bad, he unzips his pants, lifting your skirt up to see you wore no panties..

"were you waiting for this, baby?" he chuckles darkly, as he rubs his member for a bit, you were soaking wet too.. heh, such a good girl. aren't ya?

without wasting another moment, he slams his cock deep inside your tiny little pussy as he lets out a moan, a raspy one..

"ah fuck you're so big..!" he is too big :(

then he starts fucking you, thrusting and pounding deep inside despite the sounds of squelch and skin its making, he is desperate.. so desperae for your pussy as he repeatedly drills his cock into your walls.. reaching your spot and slamming his tip inside..

"oh god.. please.. nnghhh ahhgghh..!" you cry out as he smirks, chuckling down at you, using your dainty arm to pull you close and making it deeper than it should, his hand spanking your bubble butt

"god.. you're such a slut, baby, running around the house.. hhgh.. wearing those little bits of clothing, walking in my room to sit on my lap.. huh ~ don't think i can't feel you try to rub your little clothed pussy against my bulge.. hahhh..~ fuck, you're so fucking tight.. needa pump my seed in n make you a mommy.."

scara laughs as you whine and whimper.. eventually, he lets out a satisfied moan as he cums deep inside your womb, "take it.. hahhhh fuckk.. take it all, yeah.. nnhgg.. uhh.. nm.. fuck.. take it.. good girl.. hah.."

— ♡

hi i am shion, n i'm new here. hallo

y/n [ lowk oc, not self insert. ] is usually portrayed as FEM, i will not write any amab !! ><

wud usually portray her as someone small and into dollcore mostly

that could change however i believe she'd remain as someone sweet n innocent/naive

BOTTOM Y/N >:(

i js laid down my bed n started typing stuff.. bwee.. :pp

[clownrecess]

(Tw for infantilization, ableism, and a bit of a vent.)

Today my heart hurts.

I don't understand why AAC online is shown as a thing only used by small children. I don't understand why almost all AAC users online are filmed by parents without consent. I don't understand why AAC is underrepresented. I don't understand why AAC users are made to seem less than. I don't understand why AAC users are made to seem like perpetual children.

I feel so angry and upset that AAC is not a well known disability aid, and that AAC is seen as a thing only for children.

Nonspeaking children become nonspeaking teenagers, and nonspeaking teenagers become nonspeaking adults.

I feel so frustrated and sad.

AAC is not only for children just as wheelchairs are not only for children.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yves (yandere oc)

Tw: stalking, infantilization, obsessive behavior, reader cheating on yves hypothetically, gore

enjouy

Yves is a man who knows how to take care of himself well. Adorning expensive scents, maintaining his hygiene, and diligently attending his regular self-pampering saloon, manicure, and facial treatments. His skin is porcelain, supple, and free of any imperfections. His hair is full, lush, shiny, pitch-dark; soft, and smooth.

He is a man who values the importance of physical fitness, strength, and the sculpting of the body, daily exercise in his modest yet sophisticated home gym is a must. Though he also understands the essence of moderation in training, he has a towering stature with a lean, muscular frame; no one in the right state of mind would ever call him frail or weak. But no one would accuse him of taking performance-enhancing drugs either.

His fashion and mannerisms exude class and elegance. His aesthetic and tastes are nothing to scoff at, very few could meet his standards. Even if they could, it would be close to improbability to keep up.

He presents his best image of himself to the world every day without missing a beat. There is no such thing as 'sloppy' in his vocabulary. All things are done with such precision and care, his rouge immaculately lining his sultry lips. A dusting of bronze eyeshadow accentuated his emerald irises and sensual yet steely, calculating gaze. Clad in quality clothes that usually cover him from the neck down, he moves fluidly with them with such grace; as if it was his second skin. Yves dislikes having anything loud and overwhelming on him, his palettes are of black, white, greys, and neutrals. He does not like to stand out. But he will; in a room filled with commoners. As he seems ethereal.

His money matches his spoiled lifestyle. It is unknown what he does for a living, but what he brings in a night, is more than what a normal, middle-class worker earns in a decade. Yves prefers not to discuss about his line of work, however, all you need to know is that he works remotely; and his hours are extremely flexible. There are times, rare, but possible, that he has to physically travel to someplace. He would be away for days and come back as pristine as ever. However, to the trained eye, he comes back exhausted, irritated, and freshly scarred. Perhaps that is why he loves to conceal. He does it so well.

He loves so obsessively, so consumingly; and he hides it well. Yves notices each and every minute detail about you. From the number of breaths you take when you're calm versus in an agitated state, to the fidgeting between your index finger and thumb behind your back. All of it means something, and goodness, does it help to accurately predict your next move.

Without a doubt, he knows you more than anyone. Even yourself. You don't come even close to the knowledge he gathered on you. He would know what you're feeling before you even realize it. The body works faster than the brain, and the mind gives up before the body, as they say. He observes and appreciates what no one sees or deems important. You are under his constant scrutiny with or without your awareness. Yves knows what you like, he knows what you hate. He knows what you will like; he knows what you will hate; and he is never wrong. Not ever.

Drives upon digital drives of data are stored within his office, graphical statistics, images, annotations, hypotheses, diagrams, conclusions, and many more, of one study subject: You. Not all of them were stored in hardware. Yves has a library, bookshelves upon bookshelves of research-level papers in monstrously thick paper binders with him the sole author. There is a section where his information vault is full of academic papers related to you and your behavior, where he could appropriately draw conclusions and compare his findings with others.

His collection spanned over years, decades, even. He studies you intensively and he enjoys it. He reviews the extensive hoard of dossiers on you to keep his mind sharp, and memory fresh. All while you go on living your life normally, without suspecting something is awry. Everything you do is data. Precious data.

Yves knows what you want at any given moment and your words or awareness aren't necessary.

He orchestrated the ideal meeting sequence. Whether that be a meet-cute at the local cafe, a charming first encounter by picking your fallen papers after you 'accidentally' crashed into him, a flirty exchange that escalated into something more at a lonely bar, having his attractive dating profile appear on your monitor screen, being paired up as a classmate or colleague for a project, being your saving grace from an abusive home or partner, being your "blind" date your friend set you up with, as the religious, alluring man that takes your attention away from the lord at churches, the man who offered his umbrella when you're stuck in the rain, maybe even just starting off with innocent small talk in the elevator that leads to months of brief chatter, but no progress; all of it has one common denominator: it is specially tailored for you and no one else.

And you will inevitably fall for him. Yves knows you but you don't know him. He knows what gets you excited, flustered, giddy, and hot under the collar. Most importantly: he is patient. Like a predator stalking its' prey, his patience knows no bounds. He will not slip up and make a silly mistake because he wants you so badly. He absolutely does, but he is a man of discipline. Yves achieved full control over himself, and that is what made him so menacing. No human has ever done so except him.

Perhaps, you might be suspicious of him. You're pleasantly surprised when he dims the lights that have been irritating you for a while without you saying anything. Then, it happens again; Yves hands you a refreshing bottle of your favorite drink as you're starting to feel thirsty and lethargic. And again; he politely dismissed your friends when you're silently starting to feel sick of socially interacting with others. And again; You're cranky because you received an itchy or painful rash, maybe you live near stagnant water, and mosquitos are common. Yves would almost instantly relieve that by wordlessly applying a special ointment on your skin. He knows what to do.

And again; You're craving seafood, maybe. Then, tonight's date is at an exquisite restaurant that serves only the finest salmon, crabs, lobsters, and whatever else you might want. Lucky guess? And again; he toggles the control panel for the air conditioning unit to cool the room further. You then just realized you're starting to feel a bit too warm for comfort, but you haven't even broken a sweat yet, how did he know? This cannot be a coincidence.

It's delightful, not needing to ask. Not needing to demand or beg someone to make your life easier for you. Having a second 'you' doing the things necessary to keep you comfortable and happy. Having someone to read your mind.

But, then again. Someone is reading your mind. It can make one feel naked and vulnerable. As if, you can't even have the privacy of your own thoughts anymore. All that is visible and invisible is broadcast for everyone to witness. If you're the type to overthink, this could induce some sort of paranoia.

Bold of you to assume that Yves hasn't accounted for that yet.

If his calm, no-nonsense demeanor, reassuring smile, and gentle gaze aren't enough to lull you into a false sense of security; maybe his quiet, baritone, seductive voice with a charismatic coupling of a posh European accent would do the trick? It is quite possible that still wouldn't be able to soothe your nerves. No matter what, Yves always has something under his sleeve to overcome every obstacle in his way.

His body language is outstandingly alluring. He utilizes his looks and his hair, you might catch him leaning forward and playfully twirling a lock of his hair around his slender fingers. He appears to be tremendously interested in you and enamored by you. If that is what you like. Otherwise, he would keep his composure. Have a faint smile on his lips as his eyes are trained on you. Nodding at appropriate times.

Yves has exemplary table manners and etiquette, and his posture is confident and tall. He prefers to listen; of course, he does, as he rests his hands on his knee; his legs are delicately crossed and still. Best be careful of what you say and when you say it; And how you say it. He always remembers.

Yves takes care of you much, much more than he takes care of himself. He is already a marvelous chef with indeterminate years of experience but for certain, more than a decade. Cooking healthy and delicious meals for you and himself. He actually prefers to cook instead of going out, he knows your portions and the nutrients your body truly needs to feel satiated. He knows how you like your eggs done or if you even like eggs at all. He is an expert in making dishes tasty and simultaneously fitting your dietary needs and, or restrictions.

It's only fitting that he lives in a richer neighborhood. However, he isn't swayed by flashy displays of wealth in the form of purchasing mansions, luxury cars, and yachts. Yves owns a modest two-story house with a modern finish. As modest as a billionaire could be. However, it is small enough for Yves to be successful in maintaining the cleanliness and the state of the building himself. He has no hired help, unlike his neighbors. He is responsible for scrubbing the entire house from top to bottom every week. He is responsible for keeping his lawn trimmed and even. All of that, he still has ample time to accompany you everywhere you want him to be, keep up with his self-grooming rituals, and conduct his extensive research. It's almost as if Yves has 72 hours a day instead of the regular 24.

His humble abode follows a modern gothic aesthetic. Dark yet soothing. Unfortunately, he has a very strict set of rules as to how his home should appear to him, you, and others. Fussy about the choice of curtains, floorings, flooring, bathroom towels, and even the cutlery available in the kitchen; he would politely express his displeasure if you were to tamper with anything without his approval. However, he will provide a large room for you to express yourself, Yves will be more than happy to provide whatever you require to make your designated room purely yours.

Although he finds delight in serving your (almost) every verbal or silent request, he isn't spineless. Disrespect and rudeness are unacceptable, he will not entertain you if you're treating him as subhuman. Yves made sure you understand that he is deserving of esteem and dignity as well. He does that by calmly but firmly explaining that he does indeed love you and would do anything to make you happy. But he will not accept unnecessary callousness from you. Hence, it is not at all advisable to take your frustrations out on him.

"I understand you're upset that this happened. I have your best interests at heart, I have been nothing but compassionate to you. Please, do not act cruel towards me." That is what he would have said in such events. His scolding glare, stern body language, and muted yet assertive tone are usually enough to snap anyone out of their anger, retract their hurtful words, and hang their head in shame as they mutter an apology.

Yves will relax, soften his gaze, and fully demonstrate his appreciation for your remorse. The reward for your desired behavior is dependent on your files. It could be as simple as a forehead kiss, or it could be a platter of intricately cut fruits. Regardless, his main priority will always be solving your problems and making you the happiest version of yourself.

Perhaps, to a select few, you're undeterred by him calling you out. Maybe you would amp up your mistreatment towards him. No matter, he knows what to do. He is the master of bending reality by meticulously carrying out his convoluted plans. He could orchestrate the perfect circumstance without you ever suspecting he has any involvement in it, and it will influence you to change your ways, to be kinder towards him. Rest assured, he will never mirror your actions, as he believes it's unnecessary and horrible to treat the love of his life that way.

You could have tried to beat him into a pulp out of the blue and he would have never thought of doing that back. Of course, he will appropriately defend himself and obviously, you will not listen to reason. So he stays eerily silent as he blocks all your hits or restrain your wrists enough to protect himself, but not enough to hurt you. Or he simply walks away. Again, depending on the situation and your personality. Are you going to cause yourself harm? Or will your tantrum stop when he pays no mind and it's all for show?

Could it be that you're having a meltdown out of overwhelm instead? Quite unlikely, Yves would have swiftly eliminated all the factors that can cause a mental or physical overload before it happens. Nonetheless, Yves is not an omnipotent, omnipresent god (but he is close to being one) and you, as a human, are facing constant changes. That is why he has to update his database often for any new observations and review past records regularly.

On the topic of keeping records, his collection indeed includes your medical history. Even that unknown to the hospitals. The number of scrapes and cuts you have gotten, even paper cuts, the time and date you received that minor injury, and how long it takes to heal. Your genome sequence and many reports on your probability of developing certain diseases. Your dental records, your blood work archives, any and every radiological image taken of your being, your prescription details, vaccination history or lack thereof, and many more.

Yves could recite the values on a blood test you took a decade ago by heart. He would accurately and nonchalantly describe the figures on that sheet of paper. As if he was reciting the alphabet.

He will undeniably be the first person to notice that you're falling ill or close to catching a cold. You might think he has a 6th sense that detects your sickness before any symptoms start to arise. But his sharp eyes, nose, ears, and mind already picked up on all the signs that doctors will miss.

You could be his little prince or princess while you're unwell. He would be at your beck and call with no complaints. Yves would fix up a hearty meal, spoon-feed you, and stay up all night comforting you to sleep. He has no problem if you get any mucus, vomit, or other bodily fluids on him. He will settle your situation first, valuing your dignity and feelings of utmost importance before cleaning himself up.

Or, maybe you feel pathetic. Maybe you would very much prefer to continue working or studying and going about with your day. You don't like the feeling of being pitied or pampered just because you're sick. You don't like having your autonomy taken over just because you're temporarily weakened; or permanently disabled. Yves understands that.

Yves allows you to have your cake and eat it too. You may think that he's not watching or caring because he isn't around you. But he always is; and to a certain degree, you knew that. He made sure of it. Yves is always a couple seconds away from helping you. Though, you wouldn't know that a lot of the time, you're living a lie.

The thesis that you're slaving over for months despite your chronic illnesses, sacrificing a few years off your lifespan, you got an outstanding award for it. But your actual thesis is in Yves library; it was abysmal. You would have definitely failed if he hadn't intercepted the network and swapped the file with a wonderfully written one instead. Written by the man himself after he spent as much time studying about your course as you in secret.

It's a miracle you passed your final exams even though all you did in the past month was break down into a messy puddle of tears. Nothing a bit of hush money between your lecturer and your significant other couldn't fix.

The balance sheet that you're supposed to submit to your higher-ups. That would have landed you in jail at worst and fired at best. You did it while you were severely sleep deprived and the numbers were all wrong and there were many missing figures that Yves had to locate. If you pay attention, the red pens in his pencil holder are almost out of ink.

You would have poisoned your customers if he didn't buy the entire ruined batch of bread from your bakery. All this while, you thought Yves was an event manager who chose your business as catering.

You would have killed hundreds of passengers if he didn't sneak into the hangar and tightened that one bolt you missed. Either due to carelessness or otherwise.

He does a very convincing job impersonating a respected doctor at the hospital you work in. He forged the signature as an imposter, legally implying that "he" was the one who administered 100 times the appropriate dosage of insulin. You, as a nurse, mistook 1 unit of insulin for 1 ml. The doctor takes the fall and you get off scot-free. Maybe a bit shaken because you know the truth. At least you will be a lot more careful next time.

You're lucky he is also an expert in all things coding. Yves needs a glasses prescription change after staring at his computer monitor for so long to wipe out the bugs, faulty lines of code, and vulnerabilities. If you were to publish this for the massive corporation that you're working with, lawsuits would come flying right at you like darts.

Yves is constantly cleaning up after you without your awareness. Yet you still get all the praise and recognition for it. He is very content with that.

Yves rarely faces any ailments of his own. As reiterated over and over again, he takes care of himself better than most of the world takes care of their children; and his genes are almost invincible. However, as he is still human (even that may sometimes be debatable), he will succumb to an absurdly powerful virus and develop the flu. But you wouldn't know aside from his increased hand washing and his unusual choice to wear two surgical masks around you. He is still carrying himself with grace, fluidity, and with the energy of a healthy, young man.

If the illness is particularly contagious and he knows that it could put a severe toll on your body if you catch it, he will isolate himself and hire someone competent to take care of you from behind the scenes, out of your sight. He worries for you.

There are very few people whom he would trust. He has no family that you know of, he never speaks about his friends; only his associates. Even if you're the most insecure person in the world, only in Yves will you feel secure. He seems to devote all his time to you and more. He is a self-sufficient man who built everything he has from the ground up. It seems unfair that he knows you like he lived in your body twice, yet his last name is unknown to you. Yves said that he does not own a surname, it's a bit hard to believe him but what else could you do? You're not the one with the magnifying glass, he is.

He is a very private person. He does indulge you with information about himself from time to time. Like how he enjoys caviar on toast points, how he prefers buying high quality bags and clothes with discrete logos from obscure yet lavish designers and companies; he is fond of its' meticulous craftmanship and durability. He plays the grand piano and the harp, as evidenced by the presence of a grand piano and a harp in his designated music room; things that you would expect him to like or dislike based on the stereotypes of rich people.

You already made assumptions that he spoke English and French, based on his name and accent. Which was accurate. What came to you as a surprise is that he also spoken fluent Mandarin and Cantonese over the phone before. You were watching a cooking video one day on your smartphone, there was a voice over in Russian. Yves gently rubbed your shoulder to announce his presence before handing you your glass of water. It was a shock to know that he could translate the whole thing effortlessly to English. He even offered to make the food shown for you.

It puzzled you to no end when you caught him leisurely reading a set of papers printed in Hindi Devanagari. He was sipping on his steaming cup of black tea, not needing an ounce of effort to get through the jargon. He told you that he is reading a published journal article about Ayurvedic medicine.

You asked him what other languages he speaks. "الانتظار لمعرفة." He said with a playful wink, he pushes his reading glasses back up. Yves offered you to sit on his lap while he reads his article. You may or may not have accepted the offer, he is fine either way.

He is prone to touching you. Nothing malicious in nature, Yves would always have an arm around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, locking his large, warm and soft hands with yours, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, running your fingers through your locks if you have any, hooking his pinkie fingers with yours and many more. He knows your limits and backs off accordingly, he noted when is the best time and circumstance to give you physical affection if you're the type to like the surprise.

Otherwise, he would whisper if he could give you a kiss on the cheek, forehead and the lips, or a hug. Asking for permission not too frequently and at the appropriate time. You can feel his love is lingering and undying whenever he holds you close to his chest.

Yves doesn't believe in keeping you all to himself, locking you up in a glided cage and clipping your wings. Because your happiness and health is his main priority in life and he is intelligent enough to understand that you need others to fill in roles that he may not be able to fill. Yes, you're allowed to have friends. Yes, you should visit your family, he will come with. Yes, the ones that you love aside from him are welcome into his home. Within limits.

He is, in most aspects of his life: polite, but distant to your friends and family. Yves has a separate database for all of them them somewhere in his shelves for security reasons- to keep them in check and nip any threat at the bud, but they're plainly not as vast as yours. You better hope none of them annoy him, he has access to their private messages, call logs and emails. To his disgust, a lot of them has their own infidelities to hide.

If you have decent parents who were there for most of your life, you would be astonished to see Yves speaking to them so warmly. As if he cares about their existence. His eyes pupils will be dilated as he takes in as much information as possible. It's unnerving, even you had the vibe that this relationship between him and your parents is that of researchers and lab rats.

Yves recognizes that your parents or guardians are a treasure trove of information revolving around you. Now, he understands that their memories of you may not be the most reliable, but the data is still as precious. The knowledge that your friends have of you is useless, as Yves already possesses a more accurate and objective version of it. But information from the people who raised you or taught you (I.e., teachers), he may not have them in his logs yet.

What did you like as a child? What were you like as a child? Any strange fixations you had that could better explain some of your behaviors and preferences now? Any verbal tics? If so, when did it occur? What were your "bad behaviors" and were they a reaction to unpleasant stimuli? What did you tell them about your schooling life? How much did you tell them about your life? What were the values passed down from their generation to yours? When you were a toddler, did they notice what made you cry the most? Who made you cry the most? What media did you consume, cartoons? Live action? Specifically, which ones? How did you punish bad behavior, any lasting effect on your innate reflexes? Any repetitive habits? Where did you look when spoken to, straight into the eyes, away from the eyes, downcast, or past the speaker entirely? Did you prefer your nails long or cut? Did you fit in? Did you enjoy playing 'house' with the other children? Or did you prefer to play alone? The list is not exhaustive.

The barrage of questions was carefully worded and strategically sprinkled into the conversation. His social intellect is unmatched, he could easily obtain the necessary voice recordings in three meetings without your parents feeling overwhelmed or perturbed. With his unbelievable charm, your parents instantly fell in love with him too, thinking that he's the best fit for an attentive, loving, and dependable partner.

It doesn't matter if your parents were conservatives who may be offended by how he presents himself with modest makeup as an androgynous man. No one can deny that he looks stunning in every angle. He will win them over without compromising on his identity too much. Knowledge is power and Yves is the most powerful one out there.

You might or might not find it strange that he defies the common trope of hating his in-laws. Yves gets along with your parents well, maybe a bit too well. There is an 'off' aura to each interaction; he also makes a beeline to his office when he gets back home, claiming that he was contacted for work.

Obviously, he was transcribing what was recorded and organizing them, to improve his predictive algorithm.

One thing that you may be worried about, would he secretly judge you for liking this one thing, for doing a particular activity your own special way, and disliking something he likes? No. Yves is humble, who is he to pass judgment? He is lucid enough to know that he's not at all normal. Nothing about you irks him, data is data. You may have dated before him. Maybe during with him. But he remains neutral, it just means some hypotheses are either proven or disproven. Does that mean he will not get jealous? No, he can turn into a green-eyed monster of envy. However, he has full control over all aspects of his life, even his feelings. It may not be easy, but he is fully capable.

He does consider cheating as a major betrayal and disrespect, as he ensures that the both of you had the talk, discussing what is considered acceptable and what isn't. But he never let his emotions take him over. Yves remains cold and calculating as ever. Depending on your personality, he could either confront you and come to a compromise- and update your records, or he could simply eradicate the nuisance- and update your records. Yves is a strong believer that your actions were bad, but it does not mean that you are a bad person, And you could grow from it. He words his thoughts very carefully here, guaranteeing that he doesn't label your entire being as evil. Your actions are separate from your inherent value.

Everything he does is according to your nature and what works most effectively. His goal is never to punish you for wrongdoing, it's always to love you unconditionally while advocating for himself.

Even if he has tears rolling down his cheeks upon setting sights on the surveillance camera footage that confirms your adultery.

He would be badly hurt, the pain searing through every unit of life in his body. However, Yves would still love you the same and care for you to the best of his abilities. He just needs you to understand that it is not acceptable.

If it takes brutally dismembering your lover in front of you to teach you that lesson, so be it. Let the filth smear his expensive clothes. Let the blood paint his lips even redder. Let his tears wash the smear of viscera away from his face.

Your screams will be data to him. Your hyperventilation, heart rate, and blood pressure shall be the baseline wherein you're experiencing an extremely traumatic event. It will improve his prediction.

When that's all done and over with, he will assess the situation. Have you learned anything? Do you feel regret or remorse? Will you do it again? Will you break his faith once more by outing his crimes to the public?

Once Yves is satisfied with the outcome, he will give you a tight, comforting hug. Thanking you for enduring that and appreciating your genuine apologies. This is only if he is absolutely sure he achieved what he wanted.

But thankfully, that is unlikely to happen. As you wouldn't cheat, correct? You know better. You know very well that isn't a good idea to cheat on your personal mind reader.

As long as you're kind, in line, and faithful, you will have a wonderful, fulfilling life with Yves. All the ugly, unsightly parts of him will remain hidden in the shadows. He will conceal his eyes, giving you that sense of normalcy in day-to-day life while monitoring your every step and breath. Like a magic trick, the magic lies in not knowing how the trick works.

But unlike knowing the ruses of a magic trick, you will be horrified to learn about Yves's clandestine machinations.

Don't ruin a good thing for yourself.

[the-grimm-writer]

You can’t tell me Bakugou isn’t the type of yandere to infantilize his quirkless darling, because of how he and others treated izuku.

Oh he absolutely does and he doesn't try and hide the fact that he sees you as a weak little thing that needs a big strong hero like himself to protect you. He's so bad with it, he gives you a whole schedule you must follow or else. But Bakugou doesn't think he's totally unfair. He cooks for you, and keeps the house clean. All he expects is for you to stay in his bed like a good quirkless darling should and follow his rules because he just wants what's best for you.

And if you disobey him, he's not afraid of bending you over his lap, spanking you and playfully setting off his quirk until you're a crying mess and swearing that you'll never disrespect his authority ever again. <3

[big-boah]

The only thing I have to say about the autism support needs & masking discourse:

There are people who haven't been talked to like a baby by a stranger in real life, and it shows.

[playdo-the-happy-pup]

trigger warning infantilizing

sometimes people discriminate against me because i don't speak. they think it's okay to talk to me like an infant, and it's really frustrating. i am a human being with thoughts and feelings, and i deserve to be treated with respect. nonspeaking people are human too, and we deserve to be listened to and heard.

[huniegloom]

Emotionally abusive family members be like “you know it’s my job to protect you right?” Then blame you for all the bad shit that happened to you. Get mad at you for expressing negative emotions and ignore you when you’re actually struggling and in need of help but then do the work you know you’re capable of for you when you didn’t ask for the help. They don’t actually give a shit about protecting you they just want to protect their family image and control you. :/

[helpfandom]

Platonic yandere envy and fox Chimera child reader

are you the same person who request Scar and others??

Taglist [let me know if you want to join! &lt;3]: @yanderefangirl

He/They pronouns, however, Envy is referred to as 'Brother'.

TW: Babying, Infanitilization

For a Chimera! [Reader], they would have to be something like a failed experiment of Father, or perhaps after he made the seven sins, he tried to make more, but could not.

Either way, you would have to know him.

To him, you're just a little baby! Just a lil' guy. They just love how small you are compared to him, [He made himself taller to be bigger than you], how you only spend time with him, [They makes everyone he can avoid you], but somehow you want to spend time with someone else? How could this be?

He would hate that you aren't attached to him like he's attached to you. To you, this is a brother who can transform into animals [typically foxes for you], and you like to play with him but want your own space. But to them? This is a crime, a travesty of the highest regard. So he would obviously fake something so that you would get into trouble by Father, who can catch on, but Father doesn't mind if it means Envy is a little more obedient. So they would make a deal with Father to be more obedient, putting all of his effort into whatever he [Father] wants, so that you suddenly get avoided by everyone who you love, except for him. <3 How could they all betray you? Well don't worry! Big Brother's here to help you feel better!

Envy would likely either make a deal with Father, or take matters into his own hands, although Lust or Wrath, maybe even Pride might find out about that and put an end to it, they like you too after all!

Pride would be Envy's biggest obstacle, since he has to act like a child all the time, he wouldn't mind putting on that persona near [you], which then you need to spend time with Pride, not Envy. It causes a rift between the two, furthering their dislike for the other.

Anyway. His overall feel for a chimera! Reader would be that he wants to be the only other sibling that you depend on, going as far as making a deal with the other sins and perhaps even Father.

Once they have the place to take you home, he's ushering you around, claiming you can't make it without him, embarrassing you to the point where you no longer want to try and go out to see the humans.

They treat you like a baby since you're not one of the main sins, and uses his infantilization of you to make it so you never want to leave Big Brother!

[black-aurora-nora]

New Baby Pt. 3 | Platonic!Yandere!Todoroki Family x Reader

Every morning you were given your medication by Rei with the supervision of Enji. Then you'd get dressed for the day and head to the living area, where everyone would usually be waiting for you.

And despite the fact that you had grown used to the routine, the Todoroki's could still tell that you were holding onto the belief that your parents would one day come back.

How sad, they all thought.

Little did you know that they had been threatened to hell and back by Enji to ensure that your parents would never attempt to try and gain custody of you again.

They were in far too much debt and had no power against the #2 Pro-Hero of Japan.

Enji and Rei had been hoping you'd be easier to manipulate but you were so stupidly hopeful of the future like any other child and while they loved that about you, it wasn't helpful in their situation.

You were currently watching the Natsuo and Shoto play a card game against each other. When they finished a few rounds, they looked to you with encouraging smiles.

"(Y/N), you want to play?" Natsuo asked, raising his eyebrows.

A shrug left your shoulders, "Not really..."

Enji and Rei sat nearby on a couch. Rei looked at her husband, conflicted on whether she should say something to you. She didn’t want to scare you like she had previously.

Softly, she spoke, “(Y/N), why don’t you try playing one game? If you don’t like it, then we can find something else to do.”

Your lips pursed in distaste but you scooted closer to the brothers and allowed Natsuo to deal you your hand.

You quickly finished a round and gave the cards to Natsuo, unimpressed. “I’m going to my room.” You announced only for Enji to block the doorway.

“You need to stay out here, (Y/N). Tucking yourself away in your room isn’t healthy.”

With pursed lips, you timidly sat back down to watch the boys.

Shoto spoke up, noticing your souring mood, "Do you want to play a different game instead? It doesn't have to be a card game, it can be whatever you want."

You weren't in the mood to play anything but it appeared that you had no other choice and you didn't want to sit around doing nothing.

"Ok... that's fine." You chose a game to play and after a few rounds you spoke again, "When does Fuyumi get home?"

It had grown apparent to everyone in the house that Fuyumi was your favorite person in the house. In the past two weeks that you'd been here, you'd been at her side as much as possible.

If Fuyumi was in the kitchen cooking, you were there to help her. If you were watching TV, you would ask her to come watch with you.

It got to the point that Enji forced her to take extra hours at work so that they could get a chance to bond with you.

Having a relationship with your siblings was important, but not as important as having a relationship with you mommy and daddy.

Enji answered when no one else would, "She'll get here when she gets here."

Frowning, you slumped your shoulders slightly. You knew that meant that she wouldn't be back until dinner which was a few hours from now.

Natsuo stood up, patting your head sympathetically. He was jealous for sure. How had you bonded with Fuyumi so easily?

Hell, Enji had to force you to play with him and his brother.

You moved away from his touch and he bit back the anger that burned inside of him. What could he do to get on your good side?

Before he could ask if you wanted to do anything else, you walked over to Enji and Rei, eyes shifting around nervously.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Rei said, smiling sweetly.

"Um..." You trailed off. Any questions about your parents were off limits, but it'd been two weeks now and you still hadn't heard anything.

“I want to know how my parents are doing?”

The room stilled at the question.

Enji looked to the boys and they both left without another word, only glancing at you with something akin to pity.

“Did I not tell you those questions are forbidden, (Y/N)?”

You shriveled into yourself, “I just want to know if they’re ok.” And when can they come take me from this place.

Enji closed his eyes with a deep sigh, “(Y/N), you’re a smart girl. Isn’t it obvious what’s going on here?” He asked you condescendingly. "I thought you would've understood by now since you'd stopped asking."

You blinked, wondering what he meant by that.

Rei smiled sadly, “Oh, (Y/N), you’re parents don’t want you anymore.” She didn't sound sad despite the look on her face. You didn't miss the misplaced happiness in her tone.

She rose from her seat to give you a hug, “I’m so sorr-!” She jolted back when you shoved her with all your might.

Tears stung your eyes and you eyed the two strangers in front of you darkly, “My parents would never leave me! Don’t say stuff like that!”

Enji huffed, rising to tower over you.

You trembled but held firm, looking him in the eyes. Resolute in your declaration that your parents hadn’t left you.

But Enji had planned for this.

“How about we call them?” He said, pulling out his phone, “So they can tell you themselves.”

You swallowed your anxiety down, “Ok.”

He typed some numbers on his phone and held it to his ear, “ Hello? (Y/N) wishes to speak with you two.”

Enji passed the phone over and you gladly took it, smiling wide when you brought it to your ear.

“Mama? Daddy?” You called, beaming when you heard them respond, “I miss you guys a lot! This family is taking really good care of me…” you trailed off before starting again. “But I really want to come back home… But Mr. Todoroki said you didn’t want me… that’s not true though, right? When are you guys gonna come get m-“

“Look, (Y/N)… you’re too heavy of a burden. We can’t afford the medical bills.” Came your father’s voice.

“Huh?”

“We don’t want you anymore… don’t call us anymore. We’re trying to move on with our lives.” Your mom added.

“Please don’t say that!” You wept, “I miss you-“ You felt your heart tear when the phone call ended.

A thick silence filled the room. Only your quivering breaths emitted through the air.

You could feel yourself breathing but your chest felt too tight, there was no way this was happening.

There was no way your parents could just abandon you like that. How could they?

The day before you were taken to the Todoroki house, you were supposed to go the movies and have popcorn with lots of butter and a big soda.

And now, here you were, under the guardianship of two strangers that want to be your new parents without asking if you were okay with that.

“It’s unfortunate, but I promise everything will be ok, Y/N).” Enji’s voice barely reached your ears, “so long as you see us as your mom and dad.”

But they weren’t. You couldn’t forget that major detail.

The “I know it’s painful, baby,” Rei cooed beside you. Her arms leeched around you, entrapping you in her embrace. “Mama will make it all better.”

No, she wouldn’t.

Rei of all people wouldn’t be able to make this better.

“Breathe, (Y/N), you’ll make yourself pass out.” Enji warned, but you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to breathe.

What was the point?

You were stuck with this weird family that treated you like you were five.

Your parents sold you off because you were a burden.

What was the point?

Just as Enji had said, your knees crumpled beneath you but instead of falling to the ground, you stayed held up in Rei’s arms and she slowly lowered you both to the ground.

A smile bloomed upon her face when your breathing evened out, head rested in her lap with a tear-stained face.

You’d be sad for a little while, but that didn’t matter.

Your new parents would help you out.

You’re the baby after all.

[im-not-here-im-dead]

OLDER RELATIVES STOP TOUCHING ME AND CALLING ME PET NAMES CHALLENGE. IT’S NOT CUTE AND IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY. WOULD YOU DO THAT IF YOU KNEW I WAS A LEGAL ADULT? IF I WAS VISIBLY AGING? IF MY AUTISM DIDN’T MAKE ME ‘CHILDISH’? WHY DO YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO JUST GO UP TO YOUR KID RELATIVES AND TOUCH THEM WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION? YOU DON’T DO THAT TO FELLOW ADULTS, SO WHY AM I AN EXCEPTION? STOP IT. AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, STOP ASSUMING THAT WE’RE AUTOMATICALLY BUDDIES JUST BECAUSE WE’RE RELATIVES. WE’VE MET TWICE WHEN I WAS LITTLE. I DON’T FUCKING KNOW YOU. AND EVEN IF I DID, THAT WOULD’NT GIVE YOU A PASS TO CALL ME ‘SWEETIE’ AND FUCKING STROKE MY HAIR WHEN I HAVE NOT TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS OKAY TO DO SO. I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING PET. STARS I HATE ADULTS SO DAMN MUCH SOMETIMES. I HATE HOW PRESUMPTUOUS THEY ARE. I HATE HOW COMFORTABLE THEY ARE WITH ENCROACHING ON MY PERSONAL SPACE. I HATE THAT THEY STILL DON’T CONSIDER ME THEIR EQUAL.

why am i still not. worthy of respect? why is respect the exception? and not the rule? why do i need to ask you to stop? can’t you just ask for my permission? how will you act if i say no?

[killemwithkawaii]

I just tested positive for covid and am feeling ✨not so funky fresh✨ and thinking about Sal and Larry taking care of me is the only thing keeping me going 😭💕

Just imaging them bundling their pathetic sick little s/o (me) up in fluffy blankets, feeding me soup, cuddling me and petting my hair!! They are so sweet and they (Sal in particular) would be SO good at taking care of their sick s/o 🥺😷💕

“baby, what’re you doing up? Don’t worry I’ll get you whatever you need just rest”

“No you’ll get sick too 🥺” “And leave my baby here alone? Fat chance 😤”

“Open wide baby you gotta eat at least a few bites~” “such a good baby for me”

“I know the medicine is gross sweetheart but it’s gonna make you feel better!”

They would totally spoil their pathetic sick little s/o and wait on them hand an foot no matter their protest 🥺 just lots of snuggling and hand feeding and petting. Sal softly playing the guitar while Larry’s deep voice rumbles in my ear and lulls me to sleep 😩💕

- 🥚

>SO SWEET!! I especially love the part with them petting you and lulling you to sleep together... 🥺👉👈💖

>I feel like Larry knows what he's doing, having taken care of his mom whenever she'd get her yearly colds, and would make sure you had what you needed within reach, comfort you when it's needed, and otherwise give you space to rest, while Sal would be such a mother hen and would compulsively check on you any time he hears a sniffle or thinks of something you might need.... Between the two of them, they definitely have you covered 👍🍲🌡💊💕

>I really hope that with a combination of R&R and heaps of f/o love, you've made a swift recovery and you're feeling better now, 🥚 anon! 🤗💖

>In case you're not, here's a comic of Sal and I that I drew when I had covid last year (I know it's no fun at all, but a kith from those cold prosthetic lips sure does help! 🤒💖)

[clownrecess]

I want to talk about my experiences with being a disabled trans person, because me being disabled HEAVILY affects my transness.

I am not talking about xenogenders, though that is related as I use xenogenders because I am autistic, I experience gender differently because I am autistic, etc.

What I really want to talk about in this post is my experience with transition as a disabled trans man. At the time of writing this post, I have been on estrogen blockers for four or five years (I think four. Also in a YouTube video I said three or four but I'm just now realizing that's untrue.), and I have been on testosterone for eight months. My blocker is in the form of an implant that I had surgically inserted into my upper left arm. My testosterone is in the form of gel that I take once per day.

Well, usually take once per day. I struggle with taking my testosterone consistently. I take it properly most of the time, but sometimes I forget because of my memory issues, or I just can't because of executive dysfunction. This really frustrates me, but I'm doing the best I can.

Something else I struggle with doing properly is binding. Not all transmascs bind, but I personally do, and I tend to bind for much too long, much too frequently. This is because I go to a special education school that is two hours away from my house, I have to get dressed at 5:00 AM, and I don't get home until around 4:30 PM, but then I am burnt out from school so I need to take a break and calm down with things like music, or playing Animal Crossing. So that brings me to around 5:00 PM.

That is not okay. That is far too long to be binding every day. Please, do not do that. I beg, like please please do not do that.

I also am an AAC user, because I am nonspeaking, or semispeaking (I use the terms interchangeably for myself because I am not somebody who just looses speech for a few months and then goes back to oral speech. I use AAC quite a lot. Everyday. I can use oral speech in some scenarios, but I rely heavily on AAC, and I use it every day no matter what.) Because I use AAC, I have the ability to choose the voice! Which, is good because it prevents dysphoria (mostly, kinda), but it isn't great because there are no voice options that sound like how I hope to sound.

Okay, now for this last bit I want to give a trigger warning. This last section will talk about transphobia, ableism, and infantilization. You've been warned. If this type of stuff upsets you please stop reading.

When I came out as trans, my old old school did not believe I was genuinely trans. Why? Not because they are generally transphobic, no. But because I am autistic, so surely I must not properly understand what being trans is

Can we please treat autistic (and just generally disabled) queer people with respect.. please?? It has been a very very long time since then and I am still very much trans. I was not confused, nor am I now.