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redrobin-detective · 2 years

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fight or flight

Bruce would not consider himself to be an impulsive man. Quite the opposite, he had singularly dedicated himself to his task of ridding Gotham of crime since he was child. He vetted all of his teachers thoroughly and only acted on evidence he could support. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, was not a man prone to fits of emotion. And yet he cannot explain why, when an obligatory appearance at the circus turned tragic, he took home an orphan boy.

“Dick, I’m coming in,” Bruce said, opening the door to the room the boy had been staying in. “Alfred wants to know if you’re coming to dinner.”

“I don’t want anything from you!” Dick screamed, lobbing a shoe at Bruce which he dodged. The room was still in a state of disarray; nightstand knocked over and covers pulled violently off the bed into a protective pile on the floor. The sight was achingly familiar. “You can’t keep me here! I want to go back to Pop Haly!”

“We’ve been over this,” Bruce said softly, opening the door a bit more. “The circus is European, only here on temporary visas. As they aren’t blood relatives, they cannot legally take you in.” Aside from the chaos of the room, a framed picture of Dick’s parents was placed on a place of honor at the windowsill. Bruce unfortunately had to nail the window shut after Dick made 3 very daring escape attempts. “Besides, you and I both know you’re not planning on going back to the circus, not yet.”

“You don’t know anything!” Dick hissed, barring his teeth. “Get out before I make you!”

“I understand, Dick, believe me I understand,” Bruce said heavily, some of the Batman’s gravelly tones leaching into his voice. Bruce had done a lot of thinking in the past week, wondering just what had compelled him to offer himself as a temporary foster parent. He thought maybe it was because he feared for the boy’s safety if Zucco decided to silence him. Perhaps he thought it too cruel to send an innocent child to a juvenile detention center for reasons beyond his control. But, when the hour was late and he’d returned from patrol and was stripped of Batman and Wayne and was just Bruce, he knew.

He knew by the look of devastation and roiling anger in the boy’s eyes that no one, not the police or social workers or circus family would be able to help with. Bruce wasn’t sure that Dick could be helped, he himself was living proof, but he had to try. Because if he didn’t, the last of the Graysons would die trying to complete his revenge.

“No you don’t!” Dick roared, pushing himself out of his self imposed little nest. He threw another shoe which Bruce side stepped. “Because if you did, you would let me go! That-that bastard is still out there after killing them, after making them fall!” He took in a deep breath as grief washed over him before the anger returned twice as strong. “I know how this works Mr. Money Bags. We’re carney trash, we’re nobody, no ones gonna go after the killer.”

“Dick, I’ve been involved with the investigation, the police are doing everything they can.” Bruce explained, daring to step closer. Admittedly, the police couldn’t do all that much. There wasn’t a lot tying Zucco to the scene and that’s not even getting into the complicated Falcone-Maroni family mess that Zucco was protected by. There was a chance Zucco would skate by, ordinarily but- “and if they can’t then Batman will bring him to justice.”

“Batman!” Dick laughed, loudly and harshly. “And you city folks call us the freaks, you got a freaking bat monster out there solving your crimes Well I don’t need him, I don’t need any of you! They were my parents, I need to make sure Tony Zucco knows what’s coming to him and why.”

“Is that really what you want?” Bruce couldn’t help but ask. “To kill? To possibly be killed yourself?”

“Yes,” Dick said his eyes angry but filled with tears. “I can’t live in a world where their killer is free. I’d rather die myself.” Bruce’s chest became painfully tight, uncertain and afraid of what to do. It was like walking on landmines, knowing one wrong step will end in catastrophe.

He wondered if this was how Alfred felt every day for the past 15 years, watching Bruce drown himself in grief and anger. He knows very well what Dick was feeling, that pain and single minded rage. He wished he’d been better at managing himself if only so he could know how to help this boy now.

“I don’t think that’s what your parents would want, they’d want you to live, Dick, and this isn’t living,” Bruce said and realized he’d stepped on one of those landmines. The anger in Dick’s eyes turned physical and soon there was a furious acrobat in his face.

“You don’t get to talk about them!” Dick screeched, clawing at Bruce’s arms with impressive strength. “You don’t get to talk for them! You didn’t know them and now they’re dead because of assholes like you!” Batman had 36 ways of disabling the child but significantly less in ways that wouldn’t harm Dick. small, powerful hands clawed at his arms. Well defined legs kicked at him and elbows jammed at him.

But Bruce was larger, older and significantly heavier than the boy. He would bleed, he would bruise but he would survive. Gotham gave him worse on his easier nights. And some part of him couldn’t help but hope that the physical release would help Dick. God knows Bruce had destroyed enough property when he’d been an angry, grieving child. He would endure a thousand cuts if it meant he could ease even a small part of his charge’s pain. It was never that easy but, as Alfred used to say, hope wasn’t a dirty word.

Eventually, Dick wore himself out and his attacks petered out and he ended up slumped against Bruce’s chest. He put one hand on Dick’s shoulder to steady him but was he supposed to hug? Would Dick want that? Could he even offer it? It was easier to focus on the physical pain and on Dick’s quiet, little sobs.

“I hate this, I miss them so much,” Dick cried. Not knowing what else to do, Bruce ran his fingers through the boys wild hair. “Mr. Wayne, please, just let me go. I don’t wanna be here and you don’t want me either. Just turn your back, say I snuck out and you couldn’t find me. You’re rich, you won’t get in any trouble, not over someone like me. Please.”

“I can’t do that, Dick,” Bruce sighed, he pulled Dick closer as the boy tried to wiggle away. “I know it’s hard but I’m doing this because I care about you and because I want to give you what I never got, closure and a chance to heal. Dick, look at me,” The boy refused and Bruce pinched his chin as gently as he could and made him look. “Richard Grayson I promise you on the graves of my murdered parents that Tony Zucco will not remain free for longer. I will make sure he pays for what he did to you. And once he is caught, it will be up to you to figure out what you want to do with your life, the last gift your parents gave you.”

Dick didn’t say anything, just pulled himself out of Bruce’s grasp and fled back to his nest. He buried himself under the blankets and was silent save for quiet sobs and hiccups.

“You don’t have to come down if you don’t want to but you do need to eat, I’ll put something in front of your door.” Bruce made his way towards the door. “If you don’t keep your strength up, you’ll be in no state to help catch Zucco.” Dick peeked his face out behind the blankets.

“I’ll see if I can contact Batman, ask about his progress on the case. Maybe see if there’s anything you can do to help, get you involved,” Bruce said even though internally he was screaming. He wanted more than anything to keep Dick safe, away from all this. But the Bat inside him knew that Dick would never settle, never allow himself to grow past this tragedy until he sunk his teeth into his parents’ murderer. Nothing else to say, Bruce closed the door.

“Is the young master coming- my word, Master Bruce!” Alfred exclaimed when he walked into the kitchen. He’d worn long sleeves but Dick had sharp nails and blood was seeping through the fabric, he’d even gotten a few swipes at his face. One scratch just below his lip to the neck stung in the cool air of the kitchen.

“No, he’s not coming. I said we’d set something outside his door,” Bruce said. He didn’t fight back when Alfred pushed him onto a chair and began examining the injuries. He’d been caring for Bruce his entire life, from his very worst up until now which arguably wasn’t much better. “I don’t know how to help him, Alfred. I know his pain, I feel it but I never figured out how to help myself much less others.”

“Oh my boy if there was a cure all fix for grief, I’d put it in a bottle and be my own billionaire,” Alfred sighed, dabbing at the cuts. “All you can do is be there for him, offer love, safety, understanding. I can see the Young Master Dick is a kind boy, that this anger isn’t in his nature. One day, with the proper support, he’ll be able to move past this tragedy.”

“And we’ll get him to a real home,” Bruce sighed. He went to pick at one of the scratches but Alfred’s lightly swatted him away.

“So you still intend to send him away once this Zucco business is settled?”

“He doesn’t want to be here, he’s made that clear,“ Bruce stated. “Besides, with my work... it’s not safe for either of us to have attachments. Once Zucco is brought to justice, he’ll be safe in a regular foster home. He can he be happy there.”

“Will he, Sir?” Alfred tutted. “Because in between the young master’s bouts of grief and violence, I have spoken with him at length. The lad wants nothing more than to fly again, like he did with his mother and father and extended family at the circus. And, forgive me for being bold but I doubt a traditional home will allow him that privilege.”

“What are you implying? That he should stay here?” Bruce scoffed

“I’m not telling you, either of you, what to do. But you brought Master Dick home because you sensed a kinship, forged a connection not of logic but heart. He is so much like you were back then, Master Bruce, maybe he needs your unorthodox methods to stop fighting and start flying again.”

“Well, first of all, Tony Zucco needs to be brought to justice,” He said, standing up suddenly and stalking towards the grandfather clock. “If you need me, I’ll be down in the Cave reviewing his safe houses. Please ensure the boy is fed and he doesn’t find any other windows to crawl out of. I might not make it in time the next time he tries to run.”

“Of course, Sir, happy hunting.”

#hour prompt #slightly over the mark but only about 5 minutes or so #ever since my last prompt Ive been obsessed thinking on feral dick and an awkward bruce #on how they had to learn each other how bruce in a way had to finally confront his own grief to deal with dicks #Batman Year 3 and dark Victory remain my favorite canon Dick origin stories #so took inspiration from there for the details #but B absolutely looked at Dick and realized the kid would get himself killed bc no one else understood #impulse took him in and then blue screened bc he had no idea what to do #Dick sneaking out tracking down Zucco getting his ass beat until Batman saved him and he put bruce and Bats together is what saved his life #i dont think dick could have gone to a normal foster home #i dont think he would have done well would have probably run back to the circus #he needed someone like B to understand him #they helped each other heal which is why their relationship is soooo special but also so disasterous #anyway here's wonderwall

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mechaseraph · 3 months

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Ok??????

#shut up seraph #sorry for my gacha pulls here but it's first time in a while I got victory rare and it's #freaking darkness #No don't get me wrong I love Borof archetype he's my special little guy #but I can't play Darkness like...at all. Except for Win's Abysses. And it be ages till they get added to Play's #digital card game gachas are pain #but I def wanna try this Deadman with All Over the World #i love gimmic of combining cards so much <3 #but also cards cool so consider this return of my classic “show you a cool duema/tcg card” corner

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theriverdalereviewer · 8 months

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let’s take a moment to mourn riverdale on here

#perhaps mourn isn’t the right word more like celebrate #I owe my whole career to riverdale #my identity #the epic highs and lows of my life to that show #because of riverdale I can’t drop this url my twin sister came up with when I was 16 #I also had many hit posts thanks to riverdale this show is so serious to me #okay but actually im kinda sad riverdale is ending which is crazy???#idk not only is it like the last big show to have 22 episodes and back to back seasons #but it was also endearingly dumb #personally the show just stopped being for me halfway through season 2 when it seriously stopped making any sense #on one hand I can enjoy the camp aspects but I also wanted the show to stay grounded and it definitely wasn’t doing that during s2-onwards #I kinda like the fact that they distinguished themselves from all of the over teen shows by embracing its stupidity and genre shifts #but that was not what I signed up for when I first watched the show #also it was just annoying how messy the characterization and storylines got #onto the IMPORTANT!!! things though #the fact that the barchies won #if you were here for early riverdale you would know that the barchies were an oppressed class #everyone hated us no one thought we had a chance the writers wouldn’t touch us with a ten foot pole #and now look at us the underdogs the dark horse #victory is ours barchies

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padderley14 · 1 year

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"I'm Not Good Enough" is Only One of the Lies

“I’m not good enough” is only one of the lies we tell ourselves. Moreover, this is what I told myself most of my life along with other lies like “You’re not good enough”, “You’ll never amount to anything”, “You’re too fat”, “You’re not pretty enough”, and the like. What Lies Do You Tell Yourself? I guess the point that I’m trying to make is that these are lies. So, why did I continue to believe…

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#2 Timothy 1:6-11 #Hebrews 10:14 #i&039;m not good enough #john 3:16-17 #Joshua 1:9 #lies we tell ourselves #neil anderson #Psalm 139:13-16 #Psalm 86:5 #Romans 14:8 #true identity #victory over darkness

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closetofcuriosities · 28 days

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Dark Victory - Punk Pants

#darkvictory #dark victory #punk #punk pants #pants #aop #Seditionaries #all over print #FEVER #LOCKON #archive fashion #mens archive fashion #high fashion #mens fashion #mens style #mens clothing #mens pants

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albertfinch · 1 month

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EMBRACING THE MINDSET OF RESTORATION

Ephesians 5:25-27 talks about a Church that has already been sanctified through being born again in Christ and is ready and presently equipped to carry out the Great Commission of discipling the nations thereby demolishing the Kingdom of darkness.

The worst "drug" many Christians are taking today is the drug of the wrong narrative. This wrong narrative says we are in the worst of days and that Jesus is coming any moment to rescue us out of the mess of these days.

These are actually the days of the greatest Kingdom advancements ever and Jesus is going to come THROUGH us in a mighty way before He comes FOR us. When you understand Scriptures' timetable for when Christ returns, you realize that He is not coming to rescue a people or a bride but only to celebrate with a victorious people who have truly discipled the nations. (Matthew 29:19).

EMBRACING THE MINDSET OF RESTORATION

Acts 3:20-21 - "and that He may send [to you] Jesus, the Christ, who has been appointed for you, 21 whom heaven must keep until the time for the [complete] restoration of all things about which God promised through the mouth of His holy prophets from ancient time." (AMP)

Acts 3:21 confirms to us that He is "held in the heavens" UNTIL an era of restoration has been fulfilled - that we are only just now beginning. The enemy has sold us a drug of a false narrative of the day. This "drug" disempowers more Believers than any other drug, and if you are going to be refired you have to abandon that storyline.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT GOD?

What you think about God is the most important thing about you and you need to start getting some better thoughts about God and His desire to advance His Kingdom throughout the earth through us. The Kingdom age has just begun and there is unprecedented Kingdom territory for the taking - and He wants His Bride fully engaging their Christ identity so they can be effective against the powers of darkness.

LIVING PRESENTLY FOR THE NEXT GENERATION

Yes, there is also a major call upon the next generation to run with wondrous things from God, but God is speaking right now of the incredible things He has for those who have thought the sun is setting on their lives and efforts. Yes, you want to hand off the baton to the next generation, but you don't do that until you finish running your race (God's calling on your life). Your race is done when you are dead and not before. Great gains are in order for those who will bear fruit that remains for God’s Kingdom by advancing in their Christ calling.

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

#destiny #jesus #calling #born again #sins forgiven #victory #victory over darkness

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orchideae · 6 months

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Tag drop (2/2): Muse/Dynamics

#[ visage. ] every secret and perilous demesne shall become a garden where orchids bloom.#[ meta. ] the chances are if i open this door; there can be no witnesses left alive. is that a sufficient reason for you?#[ mini study. ] that which hides inside her… that constant calling; it is the blood of heroes which has been howling for 500 years.#[ essence. ] like a phantom she often appears in various guises at the center of events; and disappears before the storm stops.#[ liyue. ] liyue will never plunge into disaster without any clue of the danger like it once did. she will see to it that it is not caught #[ home. ] hehe; i'm guessing you've fallen for the rumors about me being very wealthy and having high demands for my standards of living?#[ scope. ] i serve ningguang. the tianquan of the qixing. the scope of my work includes some of liyue's biggest secrets.#[ lantern rite. ] every year on this day; the lanterns light up the night. may the fire never die and may humanity endure.#[ chasm. ] perhaps she will plunge into that darkness one day; and the ill fate that once befell her ancestors shall find her too.#[ wriothesley. ] don't fight over fleeting gains and losses. rather focus on the direction your heart is leading you and keep moving forwar #[ ningguang. ] maybe i'm partly to thank for the fact that she became a qixing so quickly. hehe; who can say?#[ xiao. ]you think you're oh-so cold and ruthless but i'm not buying it. anyway; losing one of us so the rest can escape? some victory that #[ keqing. ] if something happens that they didn't anticipate; it throws their plans into oblivion. but the yuheng is different.#[ ganyu. ] i could never work non-stop like she does. certainly not at that level of efficiency. I guess being half-adeptus has its perks.#[ yanfei. ] when I help her out; i always get some invaluable leads in return. gotta say though; i think she respects me a little too much.#[ traveler. ] you don't have to be on guard around me. I never scheme against people who have my stamp of approval.

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a-titty-ninja · 6 months

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「二人ギャル」 by TEDDY | Twitter

๑ Permission to reprint was given by the artist ✔.

#goddess of victory: nikke #nikke #勝利の女神:nikke #tia #naga #gyaru #big #crossed legs #dark skin #hair over eye #uniform #fan art #artist:teddy #pixiv art #mypost #mypost:goddess of victory

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suguann · 1 month

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FUCK IT, I WANT YOU—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. jjk men who are infatuated with you. | wc. 2.4k+

tags. fem!reader, bsf sister, cockwarming, slightly rough sex, best friends to lovers, exhibitionism, breast f*cking, domestic nanami, pet names, praise, mild dark content, dubcon, stepcest, stuckage

featuring. gojo, higuruma, nanami, geto, sukuna

an. banner is from hare kon okawari | masterlist

↬ GOJO

He shouldn’t even entertain the thought of wanting you—somewhere in the world, there’s a book of rules that says you shouldn’t develop a crush on your best friend’s little sister.

It doesn’t stop him from letting you talk him into shopping (as if he’d ever tell you no) and watching you try on tiny, flowy sundresses that make his jaw ache, how he’s just on the side of too-weak for those low-scooped tops you’re always wearing whenever he’s at your house.

At first, Gojo wonders if you do it on purpose—the bashful smiles and bumping shoulders if he’s close by—but you’re painfully shy for that to be the case. It’s why a smirk tugs at his mouth after leaving love bites across your chest when he finally gets you alone in his room so that he might see the adorable little face you make as you try to cover them up afterward.

He has you perched in his lap on the bed with an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you rooted on his cock buried deep inside the hot-wet heat between your legs. His mouth sucks marks into your skin wherever he can reach, deep groans rumbling in his chest every time your pussy clenches down on him—a sweet reminder that he hasn’t let you move for a while.

“Toru, not there,” you squeak, fingers knotting in the hair at his nape to gently pull him away. “People will see.”

But he doesn’t listen as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized by the sight of it pebbling into a tight peak—your thighs shaking around him when he pinches too hard.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls, biting his lip as he finally looks up at you. “Just let me play with them a bit more, and then I’ll fuck you. I promise.”

A white lie, but he’s done and said worse, and this isn’t that. This is him savoring a victory he never knew he had until you fluttered those long lashes and asked for a kiss.

You’re gasping and writhing, unable to do anything except sit there while he overstimulates you with his mouth and fingers. When he finally rolls you over onto your back, you’ve already cum twice, but that doesn’t stop him, greedy hips churning against yours and stealing another.

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, loving how you quiver underneath him, your soft socks slipping where they try to rest around his waist. “You’re so sensitive, huh, baby?” he rasps, nosing the soft swell of your breast as he crowds you underneath him.

You mewl out a broken version of his name, hot pants against his neck that make you sound so desperate—not really answering him as your nails bite into his shoulders—and he can’t get over the way you look right now, how you sound. He’ll never be able to go back to pretending that you’re Geto’s annoying little sister (as if he ever thought you were) as Gojo watches drool trail from the side of your mouth from how good he’s fucking you.

“Do you know how filthy you look right now?” he grits between his teeth. “Been thinking about this for so long—fuck—can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

↬ HIGURUMA

It’s an accident the first time it happens.

You’re at the beach, playing with him in the water, when a wave hits you and washes your bikini top away. You squeal, and because he’s your best friend and has always looked out for you, he doesn’t realize right away he used his hands to shield your bare breasts from everyone else on the beach—eyes round when Higuruma does.

It’s innocent—his intent—yet alarm bells are ringing in his ears.

He expects you to shove him away—you don’t. Instead, you give him a sweet smile with a soft, muttered thank you and let him carry you back to the towels.

He’s still reeling at how you fit perfectly in his palms, skin against skin in a way he’s only ever shamefully imagined alone with his fist around his dick. It has him shifting his trunks uncomfortably, and he wants—no, needs (a definite need) more.

Higuruma spreads you out on your towel under the canopy of the large beach umbrella, the shirt he gave you pushed up and held out of the way under your chin as you watch him. His shoulders block out anybody from really seeing how he’s teasing your nipples into his mouth—your fingers digging into the hair at his nape to keep him there.

He never thought he’d get this far after years of watching you dance around the periphery of his life without ever really being his. How seeing you like this—whimpering his name under your breath, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks, and grinding onto his thigh pressed up between yours—only ever existed in a fantasy or two.

There’s nothing to do but watch as the lines of an eight-year friendship crumble into the sand with your soft squeaks of more, and his low groans fuck, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than a small flame doused in kerosene.

If this is the sacrifice for holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your sweat-slick skin, he’ll gladly burn.

He’d keep you like this forever if he could, and the way you look at him, pleading with your eyes, makes him think you’d let him if he asked (or maybe he wouldn’t have to).

He releases your nipple and smiles when your shirt falls from your teeth with a whine, your foot stomping against the towel in a way that’s too fucking cute.

“Why’d you stop?”

All the blood and heat in his body rush to his dick at how needy you sound—for him, all for him—and his breath fans across your spit-slick skin shakily, pent up and overflowing with nerves he’s held onto for as long as he can remember. “Sweetheart, you have to be quiet.”

You nod eagerly, your grip tightening in his hair to bring him back towards you. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be quiet. Just please don’t stop.”

Never.

When your leg brushes the tent in his trunks, it feels like his eyes roll into the back of his head from the contact. He greedily takes your tight, sensitive peak back into his mouth again—hardly paying attention to the wanton moans you fail to suppress as you continue grinding onto his thigh.

↬ NANAMI

Nanami stares at you more often than usual after you have his son—at how your chest fills out every top you wear, and your hips become the perfect place for his hands—a strange new obsession that develops overnight without a manual or an off switch.

One day, you’re his beautiful wife. The next, you’re his beautiful wife holding his baby, and suddenly, he’s seeing the world through a clear lens, and he can’t stop looking.

His hands are always on you just to curb the constant ache that never really fades, brushing hair out of your face, massaging your lower back, shamelessly letting them wander too close to the underside of your breasts whenever he can. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and sometimes it’s all he can think to do.

Some days, after a stressful work day, he’ll lay atop your chest and pepper kisses against whatever skin he can reach, wandering, eager hands getting their fill until he falls asleep. On other days, he stays up long enough—baby tucked away in his crib and the monitor softly humming on the coffee table—to peel your clothes out of the way to get the full picture.

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, watching where you’re kneeled between his legs, unable to take his eyes off the way his leaky tip peeks out from between your soft, bare breasts.

You stick out your tongue to lick away the pearl of white drooling out of his slit, only to spit it back onto his cock to help aid your up and down movements. It has him throbbing at how messy it is, liquid-hot heat pooling in his stomach at how good it feels. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he’s torn on whether or not to stop you or let you keep going.

“How does it feel?” you peer up at him through long lashes like you don’t already know what you’re doing to him.

“‘Good, darling. So fucking good—fuck, keep going—pretty little wife on her knees for me,” he curses, hips shuddering when he thrusts up, watching his length disappear and reappear again and again.

The delicate smile that adorns your lips makes his heart flutter, and balls draw up to his body. “Yeah? You gonna cum, Kento?”

“I don’t—I, fuck, yes.” He’d much rather finish with his face buried in your tits, but he’s already too far gone to pull away, to shove you down onto the couch.

You hum softly. “I want you to cum on me. Please.”

That’s his final undoing, groaning at the thought of him marking those cute tits that take up his every spare thought, cumming unexpectedly in a rush of white-hot pleasure before he can stop it. His cock jerks until viscous streaks of white paint your chest, and it makes everything sticky and sloppy, sending a weak burst of liquid pleasure rushing up his spine before he slumps against the couch with a satisfied sigh.

↬ GETO

He loves it when you’re like this. Soft and pliant beneath him, eyelashes spiked with tears.

He doesn’t know where to look—can’t decide between the smattering of possessive marks littering the inside of your thighs or the ones that travel across your chest.

A decision easily made for him when he presses the tip of his sensitive cock back into your fluttering cunt, unable to tear his eyes away from how your breasts bounce with every one of his harsh, desperate thrusts. His thumb smooths over a peaked nipple—bitten raw and pinched tight—and he curses under his breath at the feel of you clenching on him like a vice.

You tell him how good he feels under a hitched breath, and his chest tightens because he can’t remember the last time someone used an adjective like that to describe him. Good. It’s weird how such a simple word can make Geto’s head spin and make him feel like anything other than the man he is outside your bed.

He ducks his head down to suck another little bruise right above your nipple, the corners of his mouth curling slightly, knowing that he’ll be the only one that’ll know it exists.

“Prettiest fucking girl I know,” he breathes harshly, already close. “I wish you could see how perfect you look.”

Geto slips his fingers between you, playing over the tiny, sensitive bud at the peak of your thighs.

“Oh.” A soft sigh.

“Maybe I should take a picture, huh? Would you let me? So I can look at you like this,” —he thrusts deep, making sure you’ll be able to feel him afterward— “all damn day, every fucking day.”

And like a tightrope snapping loose, you fall apart around him, practically choking his cock, and he fills up your cunt for the second time that night.

↬ SUKUNA

You're cleaning the apartment you share with your step-brother until it's spotless because the guy you’ve kind of had a crush on since the start of the semester is coming over today to study, and the butterflies in your belly tell you today is the day he’s finally going to ask you out.

What you don’t anticipate—between throwing away Sukuna’s collection of energy drinks on the coffee table and doing a load of laundry—is the possibility of getting stuck in the too-small dryer while reaching for a sock or that your brother would be the one to find you bent over with your shorts riding up your legs.

You suppress a groan at the sound of Sukuna's patronizing voice behind you. "What do we have here?"

"Don't just stand there, idiot," you hiss. "Help me."

He chuckles in that mean, condescending way that always sets your teeth on edge. "You're really bossy for someone with their ass hanging out of a dryer. Maybe I should leave you here and wait for Mick—”

“His name’s Mitch—”

“—to find you."

"No!" you say almost too loudly, wincing as your voice echoes around the dryer. With a small sigh, your head hanging, you add, "Please help me."

"That's better."

It's quiet for a moment, and you start fidgeting again to free yourself until you feel a pair of large hands palming your hips, and you can't stop the squeak that escapes the back of your throat—not expecting the terrible-hot-wrongness of it to feel so good.

A feeling stirs in your belly that you’d tucked away long ago, and only returning to under the safety of the baby blue twinkle string lights in your room—hand in your sleep shorts and teeth digging an imprint into the palm of your hand to hold back the name you only chant in your head.

“You’re s-supposed to be helping,” your voice wavers, dizzy with what’s transpiring in that cramped laundry room.

He huffs a soft laugh behind you, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine where your shirt rode up. “Give me a minute.”

It's embarrassing when you feel wetness pooling in the seat of your underwear, heat rushing from the roots of your hair and down to your toes when his hands travel over the swell of your ass in your tiny shorts.

You're almost compelled to tell him you’ll get out on your own because it’s the right thing to do—to put a stop to something that shouldn’t happen except in cheap porn. Then his hand comes down against your backside, hard, and every single thought in your head scrambles like an egg on hot pavement.

You whimper, the force of his slap jolting you further into the dryer, sweaty hands scrambling against the metal walls to keep your face from crashing into it.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do that,” he breathes before tugging the crotch of your shorts and panties out of the way, and you feel something wet and slick drip against your cunt. "Maybe I'll just keep you here for a bit. What do you say, sis?"

His thumb runs along your slit and presses inside you.

“Ah. W-wai—”

“Shh. Just—fuck, so fucking tight—just let me enjoy this pussy, huh?” And quieter, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You shiver and swallow around the words threatening to escape: me, too.

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mumblelard · 1 year

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i settled on paddington two for tonight's movie. also, i still don't like pumpkin spice beverages but i gave it a shot

my bedroom wall neighbor with the artisanal ice business has shifted from full volume breakup metal to moderate volume twangy cheatin' songs. this feels like a step backwards from a grief perspective but progress from a neighbor perspective

happy holiday eve imaginary constructs!

#celebrating the victory of light over darkness in the year of our pandemic three does feel like radical optimism #pandemic era #third winter #the bombogenesis #neighbors #paddington two #end of message

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sttoru · 1 month

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Helloo, could you do a scenario where baby gumi can’t sleep because he forgot his favorite blanky at daycare. What would y/n and toji do?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. not beta read reader gets called ‘mama’. wc: around 600

“the little brat won’t sleep,” is what your husband says as he steps into your shared bedroom—the child in question right in his arms. toji sighs in defeat whilst megumi continues on wailing.

it’s been an hour since he’s tried to get your son to sleep. though, megumi’s stubbornness remains victorious; not without his beloved blanket.

“the hell do we do? kid just refuses to sleep,” toji continues. he walks over to the edge of the bed and sits down next to you. your husband clicks his tongue like he’s offended, “tsk. he even scratched me when i tried to pick ‘m up.”

your eyes travel down the length of toji’s arms before finding the little fresh scars. they aren’t anything serious, but they look like they hurt at impact. you know since you’ve been a victim to a toddler’s scratches before.

their strong grip needs to be studied.

“aww, that’s not good, ‘gumi,” you shake your head and jokingly frown at your son. megumi’s cries quiet down once he hears your soothing voice. he whimpers and blinks his tears away.

toji raises an eyebrow at his son who’s suddenly gone silent. he knows that your voice has a calming effect—it even works on the older man himself—but it’s still fascinating to see how easily you can take control of the situation.

“c’mere,” you coo at megumi. you take the little child from toji’s arms and pat his back softly. you kiss the top of his head repeatedly and hum the tune of his favourite song, ‘twinkle twinkle little star’.

toji balances his body back on his arms with his hands flat on the mattress behind him. he’s still impressed by how fast you managed to soothe your son, “hmph, how come he’s quiet with you?”

you glance at toji and catch him frowning—pouting almost. it seems your husband’s quite jealous of your parenting skills. or.. of the favouritism your child has, “heh, gumi’s clearly a mama’s boy.”

you decide to tease toji and he reacts like expected. the dark-haired man scoffs and rolls his eyes at your remark before scooting closer to you—leaning his head down to megumi.

the little boy sniffles as he rests against your shoulder. his big, teary eyes open and land on his father’s face that’s only inches away.

toji ruffles megumi’s hair, to which the little boy whines and huffs. the older man gently grabs megumi’s cheeks with one hand and squeezes them together, “ye gotta watch out, buddy.”

megumi squirms in your embrace. he tries to shake his dad’s hand away, threatening to bite it if toji won’t let go.

toji grins at his son’s sounds of protest. he can’t take megumi seriously when he’s all whiny like this. it makes the boy look adorable in his eyes—makes him want to tease him.

your husband clears his throat after catching himself smiling at the adorable sight. he continues his little teasing act by lightly nibbling on megumi’s cheeks, “‘m still y’r mama’s favorite, ya hear?”

you roll your eyes and giggle at toji’s words. it’s not the first time toji’s ‘fought’ with megumi over your attention. or over who’s considered your ‘favorite’. you know it’s all jokes in the end—but it’s entertaining each time.

“honey, he’s a kid,” you laugh softly as toji continues to tickle and nibble on megumi’s skin, making the little boy giggle but also squirm in attempt to make his dad stop.

toji stops for a second to reply. he’s got a cocky smirk on his face as he responds, “and i’ll fight a kid.”

. . . at least megumi’s forgotten all about his favorite blanket.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n

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ozzgin · 2 months

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Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere demon king #yandere male x reader #gender neutral reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #yandere oc

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