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#//then i can do Depraved Fanfics
baiika · 1 year
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It's Sinday and no one has volunteered to bend me over and plow me???
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everybodyshusband · 5 months
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why must the head ache
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ozarkthedog · 2 months
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Awhile ago you wrote a fanfic of someone using their gold chain and pendant to keep you quiet and now that I’m staring at all this new Lucien content that’s all I can think about 😵‍💫
Dropping his chain into your mouth as he has you pinned up against that garden wall to help you keep quiet from the rest of the party goers 😮‍💨
yeah ok, babes, i got you. i moved them to a bedroom cause i think it’s naughtier. 🙃
18+ mdni — warnings: lucien flores x afab!reader. sex with a stranger. he makes you suck on his chain. feral sex. creampie. no spoilers. w.c. 486
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Another powerful thrust has your lips dropping open, a frantic moan bubbling from the tight confines of your throat as he harshens his hold on your hips and cruelly grinds the base of his pelvis against your clit.
Lucien tuts his tongue and shakes his head dismissively. The sound makes you feel small, like a child caught stealing.
“What am I gonna do with you?” He husks, leaning in to swipe his tongue across your lips, earning him another gasp. He tips his head toward his chest, his salt and peppered chin shifting as he clenches his jaw. From under his hooded, dark eyes, he burrows into your soul. “You wan' everyone to hear you fuckin’ a strange man's cock?
Your insides swirl with nervous arousal. This wasn’t like you. You’ve never fucked someone within hours of meeting them, but the moment you caught Lucien's eye across the small dining room, you knew you’d never be the same.
“As much as I love hearin’ you whimper,” he lets his words hang in the dimly lit guest bedroom before thumbing at your trembling bottom lip. “Open up, baby,” he commands, reaching for his chains.
You let him invade your space, parting your splayed thighs even wider and practically smothering you into the soft bedding. He drops one of his golden chains past your parted lips and into your mouth. “Thatta girl.” You suck on the small metal emblem without thinking. You’re so dumbstruck, and you only want to make him happy.
“Keep that pretty mouth shut. Don’t wan' anyone interruptin’ us.” He grits, forcing the tendons in his neck to swallow hard as your cunt swirls around his length.
He cants his hips and drives home, pushing past your tight, slick opening and deep into your warmth. Your eyes roll back as he molds your insides around him. He’s so fucking big you can practically feel him in your belly.
He snickers above you, shoving his hips harder as a muffled moan rumbles from your closed lips. “Lookin’ so fuckin' pretty with your holes filled.” he drawls, pawing at your hips and pulling you back onto his cock. Your cunt quivering at his words. “You like bein’ fucked by a strange man? Havin’ him take you apart in your friend's house?”
Blazing white heat erupts in your belly. He was right. You loved every depraved minute of this. Of him. Your core clenches, choking his cock as you come with a ragged, muted moan. He hisses, jaw clenching hard as he frantically thrusts his slick-coated cock past your vice-like opening. “You gonna take everythin’ I give ya, yeah?” he snarls, barring his teeth.
He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes. A deep, gravel-filled moan tumbles from his parted lips as he fills you to the brim and presses himself as deep as he can go until you’re a mewling mess around his cock and chain.
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feel free to scream at me -> 💌
be sure to follow @ozzieslibrary for fic updates!
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candycandy00 · 3 months
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The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1
You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Read Geto’s Part Here!
Read Toji’s Part Here!
Read Nanami’s Part Here!
Read Sukuna’s Part Here!
Read Choso’s Part Here!
Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!
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On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.
Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.
AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!
Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Gojo being an asshole.
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You stand nervously in the welcome room of the Doll House. The owner is looking you up and down. “Alright, we’ll take you,” she says. 
“Really?” You’re surprised. When a friend suggested selling yourself as a doll to pay for your sick mother’s exorbitant medical expenses, you initially laughed off the idea. Dolls are all slim, sexy women… right? But you’re desperate, so you decided to check, just in case. The Doll House has a reputation for being fair and treating dolls well, so it’s the first shop you went to. 
“Of course,” the owner says. “Tastes vary. We often get requests for… softer women.”
That was a very polite way of putting it. You’ve been of the thicker variety since high school, with more curves than you’d like. But the owner must know what she’s talking about. Still, you’re quite insecure, and the idea of a strange man seeing you naked, seeing every little roll and flaw, was frightening. 
The owner gives you a price, what she’s willing to pay for you. It’s way more than you expected, and plenty enough to cover the medical bills and then some. You think of your poor mother sitting in a hospital bed, waiting for an operation she can’t afford, and your choice is clear.
“Okay, it’s a deal,” you say. 
A contract is signed, money is transferred to your mother’s bank account, and you’re left standing in the welcome room, waiting to meet your trainer. The whole experience is embarrassing, but you did this in secret, telling no one in your family. You instructed your friend to explain things to your mother when she’s well enough to understand, but to tell everyone else you moved far away. At least you’ll be able to maintain a little of your dignity. You don’t want anyone to know you’re in such financial trouble that you had to resort to desperate measures to help your own mother. 
You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking at the floor, when you hear a voice that is horrifyingly familiar. 
“Chubby Bunny? Is that you?”
Oh no. Please no. Not him. 
You slowly look up. Standing in front of you is the tall, gorgeous guy you had a crush on in high school… until he started bullying you relentlessly. 
“Gojo?! Why are you here?” you ask. He was a pompous rich boy in high school. Of course he’s probably here to buy a doll. You’re just mortified that he’s seen you here. 
He smiles as he pulls off his sunglasses. Ugh! Those eyes are so bright, they’re practically blinding you! 
“Looks like I’m your trainer,” he says. 
You feel like someone poured ice water down the back of your shirt. “What?!”
He laughs. “I was surprised when I saw your name on the file, but here you are!”
“I can’t do this,” you say, looking around frantically for the owner. “I’ve changed my mind!”
“Huh? But you already signed the contract,” he says, his smile dropping. “Isn’t it better to have a trainer you already know?”
No. It’s way worse. Indescribably worse. Maybe if it was someone else, anyone else, but not Gojo. 
You met him in high school. Initially, you had a crush on him, like every other girl in the school. He was so tall, with soft white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen. There wasn’t a soul in the school who didn’t go weak when Gojo looked them in the eyes. 
But you were so shy, and totally certain that a guy as hot as him would want nothing to do with you. So you avoided him. If you saw him in the hallway, you went the other direction. When he said something funny in class, you held back your laughter. When he pulled some stupid stunt for attention, and the rest of the class was cheering him on, you focused on your school work and pretended not to notice. 
Until one day he actually spoke to you. Gojo Satoru, the hottest, most popular guy in school, spoke to you! Unfortunately, what he said was hurtful. He walked by your desk and noticed the cute, round, bunny-shaped keychain attached to your bag and said, “Your keychain looks just like you! You’re both Chubby Bunnies!”
He’d smiled when he said it, making the words seem even more cruel. A few of your classmates heard him and started laughing. From that point on, your nickname was Chubby Bunny. Everyone in class called you that, especially Gojo, who seemed to get a kick out the fact that he’d started the whole thing. 
Every day after that, Gojo teased and bullied you. He made rude remarks about your clothes, “accidentally” knocked your books out of your hands, took your belongings and hid them in his own desk or pockets, just to force you to come and beg him to return them, and even purposely embarrassed you in front of other boys. When you started to like another boy from a different class, Gojo caught you trying to slip a love letter into the boy’s locker. Gojo grabbed the letter, opened it, and read it out loud in front of everyone. That was particularly traumatic. 
The worst part of all was that you had lingering feelings for him that wouldn’t go away, no matter how badly he treated you. Throughout your entire first year of high school, you nursed a pretty serious crush on him. You might have even been in love with him. So when he started bullying you in your second year, it was hard to simply turn those feelings off. 
Now he’s standing in front of you, as your trainer. The very idea of it is unthinkable! Being intimate with him? Being naked in front of him? Who knows what sort of cruel bullying and mockery he would subject you to?!
“Uh, is there another trainer available?” you ask, trying to keep yourself from freaking out right in front of him. 
“Nope, everyone else is occupied,” he says. “Why don’t you want me to be your trainer? That kinda hurts my feelings.”
His feelings?! After everything he did to you? Unbelievable! But you keep your voice as steady as possible and say, “It’s just kind of awkward, you know? Since we went to school together.”
He puts one hand under his chin, as if he’s thinking it over. “Hmmm, I guess so. By the way, Suguru works here too. You remember him, right?”
You feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. What are the odds that you’d end up at a doll shop where two of your high school classmates work?
“Oh, and Nanami too. He was a year under us but he was pretty popular.”
You turn around, putting your face in your hands. “This is my nightmare come to life,” you mutter. 
Gojo laughs behind you. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. It’ll be like a high school reunion! We can catch up on old times! And besides,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower tone, “you already signed. The owner hates it when people back out of contracts. She’ll destroy you financially. And that would be bad, right? Your file says you have a sick mom.”
You turn to look back at him, and he looks so smug, just like he did back then. But he’s right. You’ve already signed the contract. Backing out now would make your situation a thousand times worse than it was before you came here. 
“The training only lasts six weeks, right?” you ask him. Maybe you could stand it for six weeks. Then someone would buy you and you’d never see Gojo again. 
“Right,” he answers, grinning. “Unless I just keep you!”
A chill runs down your spine. “Haha, very funny.”
You’ve heard about the fact that trainers at the Doll House can keep a doll they’ve trained, but Gojo would never keep you. He treated you like shit in high school. He hated you. 
With a heavy sigh, you lower your head in defeat and say, “Okay. I guess I don’t have much choice.”
Gojo looks happy, and you can only assume it’s because he’ll get to bully you even more. 
“Great, let’s go to my room and get started,” he says, starting down the hall. “Oh, but don’t expect any special treatment just because we’re old friends.”
Friends? That’s laughable. But your fate is sealed, so you can do nothing but follow after him. 
********************
Gojo can barely contain himself as he walks down the hall. His Chubby Bunny is here! And she’s all his for six weeks. For six long weeks, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to her. He’s already getting hard at the thought of stripping her, exploring those curves with his hands, burying his cock in that plush round ass. 
The first time he saw her in high school, he wanted her. He’d always been drawn to soft, cute things, and she was the softest, cutest girl he’d ever seen. He was the most popular boy in school, so he couldn’t understand why she never seemed to notice him. No matter what sort of antics he got up to, she wouldn’t even look his direction. The way she ignored him only made him want her more. He wanted her to look at him, to acknowledge him. But he couldn’t bring himself to directly approach her. 
Then one day he noticed an adorable keychain hanging from her bag, and it reminded him of her. It was a cute, fluffy bunny with big round eyes. Without really thinking, he blurted out that her keychain looked like her, and called her a Chubby Bunny. In all honesty, he meant it affectionately. He thought it was such a cute nickname, and it suited her perfectly. But the other kids in class laughed, and she looked hurt. 
Most importantly of all though, is that she looked at Gojo. For the first time, her full attention was on him. Her eyes were wet as if she were about to cry, and her face was flushed in embarrassment, but she was looking at him! 
The next day, Gojo noticed another boy in class staring at Chubby Bunny’s soft tits, straining against the tight white button up of her school uniform. Gojo didn’t like that. So when she walked by him later, he said, “Don’t they make shirts any bigger than that? Yours is busting off you.”
She looked at him with a shocked expression, but it quickly changed to embarrassment and then anger. She ran out of the room as if someone was chasing her. Shoko, who was standing nearby, slapped his arm. “Don’t be a dick. You shouldn’t make fun of a girl’s weight.”
“Huh? What does her weight have to do with anything?” 
Shoko stared at him. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re being mean or being stupid.”
It didn’t take Gojo long to figure out that the one surefire way to get Chubby Bunny to pay attention to him was to make her mad. So he knocked her books out of her hands as a prank, then enjoyed the sight of her ass in the air as she bent over to pick them up. He took things from her bag when she wasn’t looking, but let her know it was him so she’d have to come over to him and ask for them back. He liked it when she spoke to him, said his name, glared at him. Any interaction was fun for him. From his perspective, he was simply teasing her, getting reactions out of her. 
But it all changed one day when he saw her trying to slip a love letter into another boy’s locker. He’d seen her staring at the boy from afar, and it bothered him. He couldn’t let them hook up! So he snatched the letter from her hand. She’d looked at him with anger. “Give it back, Gojo!”
He looked at her for a moment, not even sure what he wanted to do with the letter. He just didn’t want her to give it to the other boy. On a whim, he tore the letter open. 
“What’s this? A love letter?” 
She tried to reach for it, but he jerked it out of her reach. She was so desperate to grab it, she had pressed her soft body against his in her attempts. He wondered if she saw the blush on his face when he unfolded the letter and began reading it. The more he read, the more desperately she struggled to reach it, and the closer she pressed against him. Then, all at once, while he was still reading it out loud, she stopped reaching for the letter and backed away.
Tears streaked her cute face, causing Gojo to pause. “You’re an asshole,” she said, and then she turned and walked away. 
He hadn’t intended to make her cry. He just got caught up in the moment. He suddenly felt guilty, realizing he’d gone too far. After that, he stopped teasing her. 
It was nearly a year after graduation that he was out with Shoko. She was drinking and Gojo went along to make sure his friend got home okay. They got to talking about high school and Gojo mentioned Chubby Bunny, wondering what she was up to. 
Shoko had given him a dirty look. “I don’t know why you had to be so mean to that poor girl. She liked you, you know.”
He perked up. “She liked me?”
Shoko took another drink. “Our whole first year, she was always staring at you longingly when you weren’t looking. It was really obvious that she had a crush. Then you had to go and bully her.”
Gojo was still absorbing the fact that the girl he’d liked so much had also liked him. And he’d blown it by being a jerk to her. 
Now, several years later, fate brought her back into his life. This time as his personal toy for six weeks. He’s so excited he can barely breathe. He can’t wait to hear what sorts of cute sounds she’ll make when he fucks her, what sort of face she makes when she cums. He’s going to enjoy this. 
******************
Gojo leads you to his room, and once inside, he closes the door behind you. He stands a few feet away, facing you, and says, “Okay, go ahead and take your clothes off.”
You give him an incredulous look. Is he serious? That’s literally the first thing he tells you to do? 
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re not shy, are you?”
This sarcastic asshole! He has to know how insecure you are! He made fun of you for years! He couldn’t know it, but you’ve never been fully intimate with anyone before. Partly because of your own insecurity and partly because you’ve been so busy working various jobs to support your mother. You dated one guy for a few months and he never even saw you naked. You gave him a few blowjobs and that seemed to keep him happy. Until you broke up at least. 
“A little,” you say. 
He steps closer to you. “I can help you,” he says, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt and beginning to slide the fabric up. “Raise your arms.”
Numbly, you do as he says, letting him pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even take a moment to look at your bra before he’s reaching behind you and unhooking it, sliding the straps off your shoulders. His hands seem to fly to your skirt, quickly pulling it down as if he’s in a hurry. Then he jerks down your panties, sliding them off your feet. It all happens so fast, you barely have time to be shocked. 
Once you’re fully naked, he steps back and stares at you for a moment before he circles you, like a shark. You feel your face burning. Those beautiful blue eyes are seeing every inch of you, and you hate it. You would have preferred Geto or Nanami. At least they never made fun of you. Being stripped and ogled by your bully is mortifying. 
After making a complete circle, he stops in front of you. There’s a strange look in his eyes. Excitement? Hunger? Is he looking forward to bullying you that much? You use your arms to cover as much of yourself as you can, deciding you’ve given him enough ammo to mock you with. 
“Oh! I have something for you! Hold on,” he says, walking over to his closet. He digs around for a minute before coming back with a small box. He sits it on a nearby table and opens it, then pulls something out. 
You almost wince when you realize what it is: a pair of white bunny ears attached to a headband. They’re high quality, looking rather realistic. These didn’t come with a cheap Halloween costume. He places them on your head and grins. “Wow, so cute! Now you really are a Chubby Bunny!”
This. Fucking. Guy! You glare at him, and in return he just smiles and says, “You’ll get your tail later.”
Tail? You don’t have time to question that before he returns to the box and comes back holding more items. He holds up a pink leather collar with a silver heart shaped ring in the center, then places it around your neck. It’s a little tight, but not overly uncomfortable. He hooks something to the heart ring, and you realize he’s holding a silver chain with a pink leather handle that matches your collar. Is this a fucking leash?! 
Of course Gojo is into some freaky shit. Of course! 
“What is this?” you ask, touching the collar with your fingertips, lightly pulling it from your skin to see if it stretches at all. It doesn’t. 
“I never told you my specialty, did I?” he says, stepping toward his bed. “It’s pet play. Which means you’re my pet for the next six weeks.”
Oh God. This is going to be worse than you imagined. 
As he moves to his bed, he lightly tugs on the leash, pulling you along with him. When he sits down, he pats his lap. “Sit,” he says. You don’t know if it’s a suggestion or a command, so you just stand there, still trying to cover yourself. He pulls on the leash, a little harder this time, and says again in a deeper voice, “Sit.”
You don’t think you’ve ever had real physical contact with him before. Maybe when you were trying to retrieve something he’d taken from you, but that was so quick and frantic, you don’t think it counted. But you have no choice, so you step closer and slowly lower yourself onto one of his thighs. You’re bracing yourself for some kind of joke about how heavy you are, but he just grins at you as one of his hands, the one not holding the leash, begins rubbing and groping all over your body. 
“You’re so squishy,” he says, squeezing one of your breasts. His hand is warm, but you can’t help cringing. You’ve been groped over your clothes before, but this is the first time a man has touched your bare chest. And it had to be fucking Gojo. 
He moves his hand down your stomach, and you stiffen in his lap, hating that he’s seeing and touching everything you’ve ever wanted to hide. But those thoughts evaporate when his hand slips between your legs. If you were stiff before, you’re absolutely frozen now. You close your eyes tightly, turning your face away from him, but he tugs on the leash and says, “Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”
You open your eyes and glance at him, only to find yourself locked in his gaze. God, those eyes. He knows they make people weak. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It feels like he’s staring deeply into your soul as one of his fingers slides between your folds and strokes your clit. 
Your body jolts, and you instinctively try to scoot away from his hand, but he’s holding you firmly in place. Your clit has always been extremely sensitive, so much that you can’t even bear to directly touch it while masturbating. 
Gojo notices immediately. “Have you always been this sensitive?”
He gives the leash another tug, making you look him in the eyes again. You nod. His finger keeps rubbing you, making you whimper. 
“Why are you acting so scared of me?” he asks. “We’ve known each other for years. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”
You just then realize you’re trembling, still trying to get away from his hand, pathetic little sounds coming from your mouth. Of course you’re scared! This man hates you, and he’s currently playing with the most tender spot on your whole body! But you can’t say that out loud. You shake your head and say, “I’m just… not used to stuff like this…”
His finger switches to rubbing circles around your clit, which gives you a small bit of relief. “Oh come on. Your old boyfriends must have had a lot of fun with such a sensitive little clit.”
You’re still shaking, and you try to look away, but he tugs the leash again. 
“Hey, don’t break eye contact!”
You look back at him. You hate looking at those eyes. They take you back to a time and place you’d rather forget. And even worse, they awaken feelings in you that you’ve fought hard to bury. 
“So?” he asks. “Didn’t any of your boyfriends know how to pleasure you?”
“N-no,” you answer. 
“Really?” He has a confused look on his face for a moment as he regards you, his finger still circling your clit, his eyes watching your reactions. “Wait. Have you ever even been touched like this before?”
When you don’t answer, he tugs on the leash again. 
“No,” you finally say, feeling like you want the ground to open up and swallow you. He’s just getting more and more material for making fun of you later. 
His eyes widen, and he says under his breath, “Oh fuck.”
His finger begins rubbing your clit directly again, causing you to jerk and gasp. He’s staring at you, forcing you to maintain eye contact through this whole degrading situation. “Someone told me something interesting a while back,” he says, his face suddenly looking serious. “They said you had a crush on me in high school. Is that true?”
“No!” you yell, tearing your eyes away from him. The only possible way this situation could be worse is if Gojo knew how you felt about him. He’d never let you live it down! He’d mock your feelings mercilessly! 
“What a reaction!” he says, making you look at him again. “Don’t look away now. Look me in the eyes and tell me you never had feelings for me.”
Locked in his gaze, words fail you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, and you know the truth must be written all over your panicked face. 
A grin spreads over his face again. “Say it,” he says, giving the leash another tug and rubbing your clit harder, faster. 
You cry out, squirming under his touch and his stare. Your breaths catch in your throat, but he’s not going to stop until you answer him. 
“I did! I did… have feelings for you!”
His finger slows but doesn’t stop. He gives you a strange look, one you’ve never seen on his smug face before. “Oh man. I wish I would’ve known back then.”
Why? So he could’ve made your life even more miserable? You feel tears coming on, but you’re still being forced to look him in the eyes. You can’t imagine how any of this could possibly be more hellish. 
“But, hey, you’re here with me now,” he says. “We can make up for lost time. I’m gonna make sure you remember these six weeks for the rest of your life. I bet you’re excited, huh? The guy you had a crush on is gonna be fucking you every day! You’ll be sucking my cock all the time. I bet you can’t wait for me to cum in that cute mouth! And I’ll play with this suuuuper sensitive little clit every day!”
You sniffle as tears start to leak out. Why is he saying all this? Just to torment you? All the while, you’re feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life. You’re going to cum right here while your bully watches, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 
Gojo is still watching you intently, those accursed eyes almost glowing, not allowing you to look away. “I know, I know it feels good,” he says in a soothing voice, his finger relentless. “I bet you’ve never felt like this before, huh? It’s okay. Just ride it out. You’re gonna feel this same pleasure every day from now on.”
It’s all too much. His heavenly eyes locked onto yours, his sultry voice in your ear, his hand at your pussy, him pulling the leash so that your face is almost touching his. You can’t hold back any longer, and an earth shattering orgasm washes over your body. The moan you let out turns into a sob, and you’re left crying freely, your body shaking. 
Gojo watches the whole thing, and once you finally go still in his lap, he removes his hand and wraps his arm around you. “Now wasn’t that fun?” he asks, either oblivious to how totally overwhelmed you are or just sadistically enjoying it. Then he suddenly jerks the leash forward, causing your mouth to crash into his. He kisses you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, his hot breath melding with your own. It’s the kind of kiss you share with a lover, not… whatever nightmare this is. It’s probably his idea of a sick joke. 
“Now,” he says after breaking the kiss, “want me to fuck this virgin pussy?”
You feel dazed, like your mind is going blank. You don’t even care any more. Let him mock you. At least his touch feels good, physically. It’s not like you have a choice in any of this. 
“Yeah,” you mutter as he eases you off his lap. 
“You have to say it properly, Chubby Bunny,” he says, standing up. 
Numbly, you lower your eyes and say, “Please fuck my virgin pussy.”
“Okay, Bunny. Get on the bed.”
You stand there for a moment, feeling lost and vulnerable and uncertain. You don’t even know what you want anymore. Once upon a time, you daydreamed about the idea of losing your virginity to Gojo. You fantasized about him making love to you in some unrealistic romantic setting. So yes, some part of you does want to be fucked by him. But it’s a part you hate. 
While you hesitate, Gojo unbuttons his pants, not bothering to take his shirt off. Then he pulls his dick out, and all the fog from your brain instantly clears. 
Holy shit. Oh fuck. That dick is unnaturally huge. It makes your ex boyfriend look tiny by comparison. How the hell is that monster of a dick going to fit inside you?! 
He notices you staring and gives you the smuggest grin you’ve seen yet. “Like it? This is the cock that’s gonna pop your cherry. Take a good look.”
You hate to admit it. You really really hate to. But that is one beautiful dick. The color, the shape, even the extravagant size… it turns you on.  So fuck it. Let him do as he pleases. You start to climb onto the bed, and he adds more instructions. 
“Get on your hands and knees, and face away from me.”  
He’s going to take you from behind? On your first time? You’re not sure how you feel about that, but you do as he said. After you get into position, he scoots you back closer to the end of the bed, and stands behind you. You feel his hands groping your ass as he says, “I know you want me to fuck your pussy, and I will. But right now, I really want another one of your firsts.”
“What?” you ask, turning to look back at him. 
He has a bottle of some kind of liquid or ointment in his hand, and he squeezes some out. You feel it hit the crack of your ass, and then his fingers spreading your cheeks and rubbing it in. Wait, is this lube? 
“H-hey! What are you doing?!”
He gives you a dazzling smile. “I’m prepping you, Bunny. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?”
“This is definitely gonna hurt!” you screech. “There’s no way that huge dick will fit!”
He gives your ass a light, playful smack. “Calm down. I have a lot of experience with this stuff. It’ll feel great, I promise. Now take a deep breath.”
“Wait-“
“Here we go!”
Your body tenses up as you feel his tip pressing on your asshole. It starts to slip in, and you shudder as you feel the first inch. 
Behind you, Gojo rubs and squeezes the fat of your ass. “Hey, you have to relax. It really will hurt if you stay so tense.”
You take several deep breaths, trying to force your body to loosen up. He slides in a little more, slowly, and then stops. It doesn’t feel like he’s all the way in, but he starts making shallow thrusts. 
It’s uncomfortable, even unpleasant, but it’s not painful. After a while, you hear his voice again. “I’m going in a little deeper, okay?”
You squeak out an “Okay” just before he pushes further in. You feel your ass stretching to accommodate him, and the first hints of pain as he goes even deeper, then starts to pump in and out of you. 
He moves slowly at first, but gradually speeds up, and goes deeper still. How big is he?! It feels like he’ll never be fully in. 
“Ahh… fuck… you said it wouldn’t hurt!” you cry out. 
Gojo suddenly yanks on the leash, pulling you up, arching your back. His free hand reaches around to grab your tit. “I said to relax,” he breathes into your ear. “Just enjoy it. Stop fighting your feelings.”
Again, you try to relax your ass as he continues thrusting into you. It helps, but it’s still uncomfortable. You close your eyes and try to think about how you felt in high school, how you felt the day you first saw him. He was so beautiful, you almost thought he wasn’t human. He surrounded himself with other beautiful people, and you knew those gorgeous eyes of his would never even look your direction. 
Now that impossibly beautiful person is fucking you, not in the way you’d hoped, but he’s still inside you, still gripping your flesh, still grunting out lusty sounds with each thrust. He’s enjoying this. It’s probably just because he gets some kind of thrill from doing something humiliating to you, but the fact remains that Gojo Satoru is enjoying fucking you. 
Thinking these thoughts makes his cock in your ass feel good. It makes your pussy wet. Eventually, it makes you cum, your body going weak as Gojo releases his hold on the leash and you fall face first onto the mattress. Your ass is still up, and Gojo is still pounding it, over and over until you hear him sharply inhale, and then his pulsing cock releases a stream of cum inside you. 
After he’s completely empty, he pulls out, and you fully collapse onto the bed, exhausted. 
********************
Gojo pants as he looks down at Chubby Bunny, at the plush ass he just came inside. Fuck, she’s so cute! 
He lets her rest for a little while before he goes to the corner of the room and pulls out a large, round pet bed. He places it on the floor beside his own bed and waits until she sits up and looks at him. 
“You’ll be sleeping here,” he says, pointing to the pet bed. 
She stares at it as if she’s taking a moment to process it. Then she shrugs as if nothing surprises her anymore. 
After they both clean up in the bathroom, Chubby Bunny curls up in the pet bed. She’s wearing adorable pink pajamas, and Gojo gives her a blanket before getting into bed himself. Before turning out the light, he hooks his end of the leash onto a knob he’d installed on the side of his nightstand. 
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” she asks. 
“Then wake me up,” Gojo says with a smile. 
“You’re not going with me, are you?”
“Nah, I’ll just unhook your leash until you come back.”
She looks relieved as she makes herself comfortable. Gojo watches her until she seemingly falls asleep, still not quite believing she’s here, with him. He really wants her to sleep in his bed with him, to feel her soft, squeezable body against his all night, but he is still her trainer. He can’t neglect his duty. So he goes to sleep, excited for tomorrow. 
Tag List:
@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen
If I missed anyone who wanted to be tagged, please tell me! 
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promithiae · 2 years
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How to handle seeing things you don't like on ao3:
Have you come across something too disturbing for you to handle on ao3? Like maybe somebody having sex in a position that isnt missionary? 😱 shocking, I know. Did someone maybe engage in mild bdsm? The absolute horror! Did two aged up characters do more than a kiss on the cheek??? The utter depravity. Well do I have a solution for you! It's an easy two step process. Step one is to find the back button. If you find yourself in a mildly uncomfortable position while reading a fanfic, you have the power to stop ❌ press the back button 🔙 and find a new fic that doesnt have such scary concepts 🔞. If you arent sure how to find it, here's what the back button looks like on my mobile browser:
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It may be difficult for you to find, but I believe in you!
Step 2 is a little harder because I know you're nosy and think you know what's best for every person on the planet. But I still believe in you! You can do it! You can learn to mind your own damn business and walk away! If you see something you don't like, it's literally not your problem. Let me give you a personal example: there are people out there who still like the show breaking bad, which I found completely unwatchable. But you know what? It's none of my damn business, it's literally not my problem! I have learned that not every piece if media is made for every person, and that's not only ok, but a good thing! You too can learn to mind your own damn business and move on with your life. I promise it's not as hard as it sounds
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kobb4ni2 · 4 months
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[ FEM SEA SERPENT! READER + YANDERE KING DRABBLE ]
TW: Alot of blood mentioned, and drunk kissing (not sober so that's bad >:v), SPOILERS FOR KING'S REAL NAME, and implied s3x
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I feel like King would be incredibly touchy only to you. King has been deprived of physical touch or any kind of affection, how can he? When he spend most of his days being a lab rat for Vegapunk. King can't even imagine touching someone so affectionately yet when you slowly broke down his walls and how you capture his heart raw, and the many days (aka everyday) he wanted you only to his side, how he wants to hold you close, skin pressed against him tight, he knows the goo goo eyes he notices from other people whenever both of you are hanging out (aka stalking).
Oh how he despise it. If every dead body he had killed because of his fires he could be making a forest a burning one to be exact, but he dares to never even let a single drop of blood be in his rugged up hands when he caress your tail, or your hands.
You've always taught that King only liked to be near you and even touch your tail because he wants you to talk more about his extinct race and if you want stop talking he will make you you by using the fires of his back but how wrong you were. You carefully unravelled him, like a tightly tuned shamisen, your words, touches, voice are like your hand carefully playing with heart like a talented maestro yet when you keep on strumming his feelings you failed to realized the blood dripping out of your fingers when doing so. King's swords is not only covered in the blood of his enemies, or even thinks to be near you but your name also carved in his sword.
He doesn't care about the height difference you guys have, even if your are in your smallest from (16'9) he will always find a way to feel you whole.
May it's the way you make him feel small when you look at him, or how your tail wrap around his waist, maybe the times he allowed you to touch his wings and how much he tried his best not to kiss you when you get near his face, he wants to taste your colored lips and let his face be full of your lipstick stain.
Depravity makes a man or any creature kind, and was that true for Alber when he was under you drunkingly kiss his neck while you hold him up, Alber wants you you maybe one day he can kiss you deeply and passionately after a wild hunt of sheading blood in your name as a infant baby with brown skin, with black feathers that were on your arms as Alber holds the other infant baby that has the same brown skin as his but a tail longer then it's entire body just like their mother.
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How I make the yandere character act at my fanfics :3 (NO ONE CAN STOP ME)
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(Random tiktok of the day:3)
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cluelylikesporn · 6 months
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depravity.
authors note: this is inspired by a fanfic i saw, ive never written or posted anything LET ALONE SMUT. so im sorry if its badd🙏
gender neutral reader! no use of y/n (if i accidentally use she plz dm me ill edit it!!)
summary: mikes infatuation with abbys teacher.
973 Words
nsfw under the cut
contains: obsession, public sex.
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mikes leg bounced up and down with every stroke of the clock on the wall opposite him. jesus, those 10 minutes felt like hours. was it a mistake coming here? they probably already see him as a total hobo, so now he looks like a stalker too. fuck, i should leave. he bit his cheek as thoughts spiraled into delusions. the bell finally rang, and there was only one thing he could do. act. normal.
a wave of kids flood out of the door, it looked like a different class. he didnt spot abby and her friends in the crowd. if abby were there, she would not leave his side. which meant no disturbances, just him and you. alone. he stopped himself before his thoughts became more.. vulgar and knocked on the door. he saw you, leaning over your desk writing something down. seeing you in thought was… jesus. and when you looked up and smiled he thought he was gonna fall to the floor. “mike..! what are you doing here? abbys had art class in a different room if youre here for her-“ you begin before mike cuts you off. “n-no i was just..” fuck. in all that time he spent overthinking and waiting, he couldnt think of a damn excuse? “i was just.. dropping off abbys.. pencil.” real smooth. “a pencil?” you said, with a sly smile. “and where is this.. pencil?” you say, mikes face dropping. “its right here-“ he says, reaching a hand in his hoodie pocket. and pretends to be surpised when there is in fact, no pencil in his pocket. “must've.. left it at home.” he says casually, while on the inside he is screaming. "oh yeah? you conveniently left it at home. why are you really here?" you say, looking at him with crossed arms as his eyes dart from your chest to your face. god, the things he would do.. he swallowed his libido and cleared his throat "i uhm.. wanted to see you. i guess." he said, looking around the classroom instead of meeting their gaze.
"is there a.. reason.. you wanted to see me in the middle of the day that isnt to do with abby?" they said in a suggestive way. its true, hes thought about fucking you at school. with the blinds closed and the door locked. the thought of doing such a disgusting thing at a school just.. did something to him. the thrill of it turned him on so much.
"i.." mike was frozen. he did not know what to say at all. he was completely caught. how was he meant to say he wanted to make them bend over on their own desk. but of course, you knew this.
to an extent, of course. abby had always dropped hints. like about how she'll wake up to strange noises from his room and you name being said. and the face she makes when you two talk during pick up. on top of that, he wasn't very slick. you could see a tightness in his pants whenever you were near. you learned what things you could do to make him hornier without him knowing it was intentional. like if you stretched, or looked up at him his face would get flustered and he'd try to hide it. you played dumb, of course. acting like you had no idea. and god, you never thought he could be so dense.
"don't think i haven't heard what you do in your spare time? fucking your fist shamelessly, pretending its me." you say, grabbing and tugging the end of his tie playfully. mikes face became so red, and his demeanour changed completely. not gonna lie, it was hot seeing him so sensitive. maybe even more so than when he was oblivious to your shameless flirting.
"h-how did you-" mike was cut off by your finger on his lips . "uh uh... make sure the door is locked. then we can talk." the tent in mikes pants was painful at this point, he desperately walked towards the door..
click.
once it was locked, he basically ran back, and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a needy kiss. in the time you processed his actions, he had already lifted you onto your desk, and began unbuttoning your shirt. he left a trail of hickeys on your neck as you begin to take his shirt off, and fiddling with his belt. a groan leaves your lips as he grabs your thighs, his nails digging crescent moons into you. you lean back and your eyes graze past the clock on your wall.
11:30.
lunch ends at 11:40.
"mike.. we gotta be quick.." they whimper into his ear as he begins pulling your pants off. he doesn't mind. his desperation and obsession with your body, your face, fuck even the concept of your existence was enough to give him peace. "i dont.. mind, fuck..ive wanted to do this since i first saw you." he said, as he pulls his boxers and slowly eases his cock into your hole. he whimpers and leans his head against yours as he slides into you fully. "f-fuck.!.." you moan, panting and grabbing his hair for support. as he gets used to the pressure inside you, he slowly moves his hips in and out, your legs shake in pure ecstasy, heavily breaths synchronising into one throat, connected by a kiss. a needy, kiss. his hard length squeezed against your plush insides. "o-oh.. mike im gonna.. fuck.." they spoke against his lips, as his climax came too, cum leaking onto the desk.
11:36.
you had 4 minutes to clean this up. as you lay flat on your desk, catching your heaving breath. you get up and pull your clothes up and turn to mike, as he buttons his shirt.
"do you have any wipes..?"
hope you enjoyedd!! feedback is always welcome! reminder that this is my first time lol
song of the day!
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booksndpoetry · 20 days
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The Gratitude Series
A Lee Minho Fanfic
Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"
WC : 2.8k words
Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader
Genre : Fluff
Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation
A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.
m.list
“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera
To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that. 
i. 
Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.
But that was his opinion before you came into the café. 
The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.
When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.
You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard. 
He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face. 
He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.
 And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider. 
Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it. 
That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile. 
ii. 
After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail. 
After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself. 
Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you. 
Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?
He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter. 
Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?
The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.
Would you come back again? Would he see you again? 
And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.  
The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club. 
When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected. 
Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes. 
The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.  
He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside. 
Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected. 
As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time. 
You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.
Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.
Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.
Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.
And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do. 
Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him. 
Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.
Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him. 
Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.
He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.
Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off. 
When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,
 “Hey, Minho right? We meet again.” 
and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:
“Thank you.”
 He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation. 
“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly. 
“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.” 
“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know. 
“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,
“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.” 
He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with. 
For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off. 
The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first. 
Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all. 
iii. 
Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time. 
He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too. 
He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him. 
But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dusk, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you. 
It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly. 
He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in. 
Just as he’d predicted, you tell him: 
“Thank you.” 
His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes. 
He wants you to stop. 
He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life. 
Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole. 
iv. 
Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too. 
It’s unmistakable in the way your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.
It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.
It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.
But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.
And that, he learns, makes all the difference. 
v. 
Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words. 
Why?
Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions. 
Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were. 
But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.
 He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.
He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.
He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something. 
All he sees is you. 
You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time. 
He has no complaints. 
vi. 
One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up. 
Your Psychology exams are what’s up. 
He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.
Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room. 
The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.
 For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.
 He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.
 Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right? 
 Wrong.
 He's rendered wrong. 
So, so, wrong. 
Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.
It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.
You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.
After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho. 
“Oh hey. Need something?” 
He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.
 “I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”
He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books. 
You let a whine in response.
“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?” 
You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes. 
He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in. 
Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle. 
You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end. 
He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished. 
You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him. 
“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.” 
“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth. 
“Mo, yw don undastan-“ 
“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”
You glare at him, but do as he says.  
Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.” 
You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise. 
He just shakes his head. 
Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices. 
“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk. 
You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words. 
“Huh?”
“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.” 
This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time? 
The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment. 
You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.
Your mouth curves upwards. 
“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?
I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.
I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.
So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.
Is that better?” 
You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.
I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try. 
A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life. 
Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.
You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.
No ordinary person could be like that, could they?
He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway. 
Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work. 
This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’. 
And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day. 
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© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.
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littlemissmanga · 14 days
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The Bad Batch Finale - Thoughts and Thanks
Before I get into spoiler territory, I want to say the most sincere "thank you" I've ever mustered to this fandom.
I've been in fan spaces before, going back almost 15 years - most of that on Tumblr, to boot. I've been in inactive fandoms, small fandoms, big fandoms and "we're watching new episodes together in real time" fandoms ...
And none of them have ever given this sense of community and support. Ever.
There really is something special about The Clone Wars/Bad Batch fans, even within the Prequel lovers or Star Wars fans in general that breeds this kind of sentiment. It's truly unique and I found it at a time in my life when I was the most isolated physically from my support network and struggling to make new friends and connections IRL.
I cannot express in words just how much you all saved me with your validation and support.
The Shades of Blue series was the first fanfic I actually felt comfortable leaving a comment for on Tumblr, and the amazing @the-rain-on-kamino's kind and loving reaction gave me the courage to start writing fanfiction again. Not only that, but actually sharing it for the first time in years.
And after that, everyone else came in one at a time. From @deejadabbles and @sev-on-kamino's delightful, rabid and enabling reactions to my unhinged thots, to @wings-and-beskar supporting my unhealthy Wrecker obsession, to @l-lend being an absolute example of how to engage and interact in fan spaces to make room for everyone, to @wild-karrde, our bastion of supportive engagement and creative celebration (and a kickass writer in her own right) ... you all helped me come out of my shell in ways I can't express in words besides thank you.
@dystopicjumpsuit, @freesia-writes. @anxiouspineapple99, @dickarchivist, @wizardofrozz @523rdrebel
@starrylothcat @starqueensthings @the-bad-batch-baroness @multi-fan-dom-madnessand @moonlightwarriorqueen
You all have listened to my rambles, thoughts, and vent sessions - whether about fandom stuff or not - and I hope I've been able to return a fraction of that support.
@daimyosprincess, girl you get a whole special shoutout for the levels of depravity you encourage my thots to get to :D
And there are so many more!! People I may not talk to frequently (cause sending DMs gives me anxiety), but I see you commenting, liking, reblogging when I post and posting your own amazing writing or art for me to moon over.
@cyarbika, @madameminor, @spacemagicandlaserswords @merkitty49 @vodika-vibes
@kimiheartblade @nika6q @arcsimper5
@soaringthroughthegalaxy @sunshinesdaydream @sinfulsalutations and so so many more.
THANK YOU ALL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART
I'll still be around simping after our favorite clones. I hope you'll keep joining me.
Now, on to the spoilers!
I have to say overall, I like this conclusion. It's the happy ending we wanted, but if feels earned. I love that the boys got to grow old in peace with Omega. I love that their dedication to one another is reaffirmed and upheld as the strength it is, rather than - as Hemlock saw it - a weakness to exploit. And I loved that last little scene. It felt like a fanfic and I say that lovingly. It felt like the writers and animators put together the fic we all know would have happened if they left the ending on that fadeout of the Batch next to the tree on Pabu. And that felt like a kiss on the forehead as a fan.
Now here's what I didn't like.
I didn't like that they clearly rushed the end. Pacing wise, there were so many moments that were slowed down so you can feel the emotional impact ... but the editing of the scenes around them made this slower pace a mistake to me.
Like when Echo and Omega are sending Emerie and the kids away ... they all hug and take time to talk about their plan. BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TIME. We know Hemlock has the others. We know Tarkin is on his way. YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS SCENE TO HAPPEN HERE and Echo of all people would be on that, moving everyone along as he is trained to do. It feels artificial because we go from high intensity and fast paced to slow and dragging when nothing from the fast paced scene had been resolved. I think this could have been different if the scene with the kids in the hanger came before the Batch gets in to the hanger and knocked out. It would be a break from the fast pace of the Zillo escape, but without the immediate urgency of a rescue weighing over them (and us! I was having heart palpitations!). It also would then match the tone and sentiment of the scene between Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair in the woods ("Omega needs all of us.").
These pacing issues are editing issues, and I think we're really seeing how post-production was truncated to get this out on time (or possible pre-production and storyboarding was truncated). I hate that production studios are making this practice more common to cut costs. We will wait longer for better quality storytelling.
My final example of this is Crosshair's story resolution. It doesn't happen. He still thinks he deserves to die on Tantiss (the sentiment from S3 Ep1) and even though Hunter and Wrecker tell him otherwise, we don't know if he internalizes that. And his climax is about trusting Omega to know what to do to take the shot. But Crosshair has (in this season) shown he always trusts Omega. It would have been better if his hand was still shaking and Hunter said "Omega trusts you. You'll make this shot." so that the external conflict for Crosshair is resolved by resolving his internal conflict and trusting himself as his family does. And it would leave Hunter's climax the same - trusting Omega as an competent member of the team.
It just feels rushed. Or like an abstract painting that almost looks like a real object, but just a little blurry. They almost stuck a perfect landing, but just missed the mark a bit.
I also hate how this means Wrecker gets fuck all resolution. The entire last episode was a really intriguing challenge for him. He knows Cross is off his game and Hunter is getting desperate and reckless again ... just as he is almost entirely knocked out of the fight from an injury. Him, the strong one. That should have been a great moment of growth for him. That he doesn't keep going because he always can -- which is very much how he comes across in TCW S7 and TBB S1 -- but that he actively makes himself the strong one, the supportive one, because that's what his family needs.
But no, we didn't get that. We didn't get any insight into Wrecker at all, despite him being the one to free his brothers enough for them to save Omega (and he saved Echo, too!). And then he doesn't speak again, though we see how banged up he is. I get it was less of a focus throughout the series, but man they didn't need to sideline my husband like that.
And finally, Tech.
Look, I may be delulu, but contextually, there was plenty of evidence that CX-2 was Tech. From speech and mannerisms to his blatant disregard for orders, to the seemingly personal level he took his missions.
But it's more than that - why show us this big tense moment of him breaking onto Phee's ship, which the focus being on Phee sensing him near? Why not just have that in the dialog with Hemlock the way Cid's confession was? That would have saved so much time that could have been put elsewhere. Why have such a focus on him in the marketing?
I'm not mad that Tech is dead. Let me make that clear. The showrunners said from the start they killed Tech to prove there are real, lasting consequences to characters' decisions. And I can respect that. And I can understand and appreciate the interpretation that CX-2 wasn't meant to rep Tech, but rather what the Empire can turn clones into, a threat to them all not just in the danger CX-2 poses, but the danger if they get caught.
And that's fair ... but then it could (and should have) been any and every CX trooper to fit that bill. There was no need to waste time and attention on one in particular.
And to be, that also ignores the clear wall of contextual and subtextual evidence that a reveal was planned. The posters are a great example.
Here is the Batch in the final poster:
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And here is CX-2
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He's standing at Crosshair's right, just out of frame. The lighting matches and he's even looking up to the right just like the rest of his brothers. The line of light cutting his left side even matches the one cutting above Crosshair's right side.
All the other posters showing Bad Batch adversaries has them lit more darkly or in shadow and has unique posing and positioning that do not reflect our heroes.
Why are we styling a brainwashed clone like one of the Batchers artistically? That's a weird choice.
I think the some big wigs wanted him back and others didn't want to water down the impact of his death and we're seeing that confusion and conflict on screen, when we really shouldn't. IDK if Disney was pushing it or the showrunners but either way, going halfsies and changing your mind (and impacting the resolutions we got because of it) is not a good look, especially from a studio like Disney/Lucasfilm. I'm not blaming Dave or Jen wholly, but we the audience should never be able to see the writer's room when we watch, and that's all I was able to see with this.
(My own husband was like "we are supposed to think that's Tech, right?" and he's not really a Bad Batch fan, he just indulges me.)
Alright, that's all I got. I'm happy with how my comfort show ended, I'll write fanfic to cover the pieces I don't agree with personally, and I'll remain ever grateful and supportive of the community who gave me this most precious gift.
I love you all.
And may the force be with you.
54 notes · View notes
hanasnx · 1 year
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dead dove do not eat for explicit and potentially triggering sexual themes
i am venting (scratching the surface) ab anakin’s traumas translating to his sex life
next post
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it’s so hard for me to read anakin fanfic bcos i know this man is fucking gross and he’s written so limited. like i can’t stress this enough you could write the nastiest, most disgusting thing you can think of for this man and he’s probably done it, liked it, or thought about it at least once. where is the flavor??
push the boundary, people, make him evil. make him depraved. he’s so traumatized and so villainous. and it definitely translates into his sex life in the worst ways.
stop being afraid of staying within the confines of your own kinks and never venturing into his. i need depth, darkness, and depravity
“what if someone thinks it’s gross😭” it fucking is gross. it is gross. that’s the point. please. make it grosser. you know what this needs? more gross. add more.
“he wouldn’t be sadist. you’re his most perfect baby!! he’d never hurt you!!🥺” he’d slap you around and like it. toss you like a ragdoll and use you like a fuck toy. bdsm is in this man’s dna. if you’d let him, he wants to whip you and see you bleed and fuck you through the pain.
he wants you to drip hot wax on him and throw him down a flight of stairs. fuck it, punch him. give him a black eye. squeeze, slap, strangle his balls & cock. torture him. make him feel worthless. less than the dirt you walk on or the saliva you waste on him to spit in his open and willing mouth. tie him up and leave him there.
anakin is into some weird fucking stuff, stuff he doesn’t even understand or can explain sometimes. so it often comes out of nowhere for you. psychologically he’s so fucked up and twisted and doesn’t get that not everybody’s like that but he doesn’t really care at this moment. what fucking matters right now is getting off and he’d do anything to make that happen
he gets so swept up in the heat of the moment it carries him like a current, everything he does is now instinctual and spontaneous.
my most precious piece of knowledge i can bestow upon you, is that anakin’s dirty talk is such a defining thing. my headcanon that he says the wackiest shit, that leaves you wondering how the hell that just worked on you and your body, and he doesn’t even give it a second thought. didn’t even give it a thought in the first place. and at this point when he’s really opened up, you’re too fucked out to even respond.
you really see his true self during sex. his animalistic tendencies and most based desires. his rawest, purest most unadulterated anakin. and he doesn’t even realize it’s something he does but it’s fucking addicting to you be bear witness
184 notes · View notes
wannab-urs · 8 months
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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 20
Hi friends!!
Can't believe we're at the 20th week of me doing this rec list! I also hit 400 fics on the Spreadsheet, which is wild. We've got 14 fics this week. It was a bit of an angst fest, but there's plenty of smut and even a few threesomes!
As always you can find the Spreadsheet here and the other Digests here. You can tag me in literally any Pedro boy fic (except RPF) and I'll add it to my TBR! You can also send me fic recs if you want, and even ask me for fic recs. I'll dig through the sheet so you don't have to :)
Fic recs below the Pedge:
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Blackmail - a Javi P/Joel series by @milla-frenchy
Javi is the new Fedra officer you have to deal with and he wants something instead of credits to let you and joel go on your supply run... he wants to fuck you! The way it starts with Joel getting cucked and then just.... descends into beautiful smutty depravity. This was so fucking good. I loved how Javi wasn't mean? Idk like the whole experience just sounded good as hell for reader after the initial discomfort of having to fuck someone to get what you want lol.
You need to relax, sweetheart - a Joel/Tess one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
You're Tess and Joel's babysitter and they come home from date night and decide to help you unwind from a stressful night of caring for children... ya know... with their bodies. -- TW dubcon/noncon -- also there's some breeding kink in here and Tess is also pregnant. This fic is so good and twisted and delicious and wonderful byeeeee
Shore Leave a Frankie/Santi one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings
Ok so you're a bartender and Frankie and Santi come into your bar sometimes on shore leave and they always flirt with you. And then this time they flirt with you and you like actively consider going home with them... and then you um find something out... spoilers sorry.... and decide to go home with both of them. And it is wonderful, sexy, and sweet. I'm gonna need a 30 part loose fit series on these 3 immediately <3
Rendezvous in Reno - a Dieter one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings
AHHH okay so erotica writer!reader has a book signing and the subject of her first published erotic short story walks in knowing full well the story was basically fanfic of HIM. Heavy flirting ensues... then he comes to your hotel. This fic??? It's so sweet and fluffy and like... indulgent? It's like eating dessert for breakfast. There's a lovely surprise in relation to Dieter himself, also. I just love his personality in this and I love the sexy intimate smut and I want to die I love Dieter so much.
An Open Invitation - a Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
Joel watches reader and her girlfriend? fuck buddy? whatever. fuck from his window cause girl has got her curtains WIDE open and she is doing it fully on purpose.... anyway some stuff happens and Joel ends up in her house with her and her friend and then he gets used like a sex toy and loves every second of it and I loved every second of this fic. It's perfect. No fucking notes. 10/10.
Aches!Joel - a Joel series by @toxicanonymity
At the time of this rec, there's four parts. This features virgin!reader and a Joel that shows more restraint than I really expected him to be able to. This fic is sweet and the teasing and the will-they-won't-they throughout is so good. It's like edging but you're reading. And then... ya know. Aches!Joel owns my whole heart. fuckin wanting to wait for a soft bed to fuck her PLEASE... whatta man (the bar is in hell, I know, leave me alone).
Linger On - a Joel series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
So you and Joel broke up 10 years ago and you moved on! You moved away from Austin and you got married and you have a kid and everything is great right? It's not. You're soooo not over Joel Miller. And then!!! Some events happen that put you face to face again and not just like.. briefly or temporarily. I don't want to spoil too much of this fic here in the review... just read it. It's angsty and yummy and I love it. (smutty also, who do you think I am?)
Carnal - a Joel series by @pascalsbby
Another camgirl!reader fic because I literally cannot help myself lmao. This one has the delicious twist of also being dad's best friend!joel AND best friend's dad!Joel... how fucked up is that? The correct amount of fucked up. The dirty talk going on in this fic is literally insane. My body went into fight or flight I was so turned on. And then on top of the crazy freaky yummy sex and like perv!joel and dom!joel and just all that going on... the story itself is really fucking good!!!
A Feeling That Never Came - a Javi P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings
You show up to your birthday/engagement party (i will not elaborate on that) and it's all kind of terrible and then your ex, Javi Peña shows up. Which should be a bad thing. Who wants their ex at their engagement party? You do. I promise you do. Desperately. So like... read this lovely bucket of angst as a bedtime story, cry yourself to sleep, and anxiously await the next part just like me.
It's always been you - a Dieter one shot by @alwaysmicado
Dieter Bravo is not a good boyfriend and after a year you are faced with the brutal reality of that fact. This fic destroyed me emotionally for real. Like the way Dieter is so.... pathetic? The perfect depiction of that push and pull where you can't let yourself fall into him but like all you want is for him to hold you because you're upset? GOD DAMN. Perfect. And then the interlude time period and what happens there and the ending? All so fucking perfect. I would love more of these two. They're broken and sad and it hurt and I can't stop thinking about this fucking fic AH
Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - a Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira
You've got this friend that can't take a fucking hint and won't understand you don't want him like that, but thankfully a handsome and unsettling stranger is there to save the day... several times.... and it's a little weird that he's always there and that you can't quite remember what he looks like when he's gone... and he makes you feel a little off. This is such a wonderfully spooky fic and it really captures Max's vibes while, despite the stalker behavior, somehow being more tolerable than the canon Max. I desperately hope you get the inspo to write a full Max series. It would be delightful
I Know Places - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters
So you're a bounty and Din catches you and he has to take you all the way from tatooine to coruscant. It's a long trip and due to some mitigating circumstances he can't carbon freeze you as you'll probably die and... dead people don't pay their debts so that just won't do. 3 weeks cooped up in the Crest with a tin can man you don't know and who is carting you off to certain death... surely that couldn't be a love story. Or could it? This fic is so fucking good. I love the story and the smut???????? To die for.
You Shook Me All Night Long - a Joel series by @macfrog
You are Joel Miller's assistant and he's the CEO and he is... handsy. But it's not making you uncomfortable, at all. This starts at the official work party, moves over to a bar, and then keeps going after that. I really loved this. Joel was the perfect amount of rich corporate asshole and possessive sexy man.
Plaited and Braided - an Ezra one shot by @bonezone44
Ez wins a bullwhip and learns to use it on a tree... then he learns to use it on you. This is so delightful. It's a little dark there for a bit, but it's much much sweeter than you'd expect a sadist!Ezra bullwhip fic to be. I would very much love to see more of these two.
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Here's some art I saw this week
Joel and Ellie by @vickisigh
Din by @gaytedlasso
Frankie and his shifter form by @littledozerdraws (commissioned for SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings)
Pedro by @bonezone44
Pedro as popular raccoon memes by @iamasaddie
Joel Miller Apologist badge by @sin-djarin
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My Masterlist
My Kofi
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Happy Reading!
73 notes · View notes
multi-kpop-fanfics · 1 year
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half past five high - chapter 5 (beginning of the end)
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pairing: joshua x fem!reader || mingyu x fem!reader (ft. a brief appearance of jeonghan)
genre: angst, smut. minors dni.
warnings: heartbreak, arguments, making out, biting, hair pulling, dry humping, cursing, toxic relationship, slapping, infidelity, drama, slutshaming
word count: ~1.9k
summary: it’s all fun and games until everything comes crashing down like a tower made of paper cards.
Author’s note: yes it has returned from the war - huge thank you to @himbocoups (“if I were him i'd send that giant block of steel flying straight at yn”), @flowerwonu (”bro i wouldnt even give myself a second chance”), @playmetheclassics (”i mean, its hard to think with anything else when its mingyu”) and @dkakapizzaboy​ (”Can you write me as a character and I can be Shua’s new love interest because I love him and I’m crying”) for proofreading and reviewing this chapter 💕
series taglist:  @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu @husbandhoshi @wonwoosthetic @boowanie @billboard-singer @gaebestie @aurumness@xrubyrosesx @lovelyhan @himbocoups @playmetheclassics @dkakapizzaboy
unable to tag: @jaeyux @chwebychew
© multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translating without permission allowed.  
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Your nerves are still buzzing, the mess that Mingyu created last night has fully gotten to your head and it isn’t coming out of your system any time soon.
Your hands are deeply threaded in your hair as you tug at the roots in frustration, anxiously pacing in the room.
God, you hated this, you hated Mingyu, you hated yourself, you hated everything.
An apocalypse could happen around you, but you would still ignore everything because right now, your mind revolves around Kim Mingyu.
You can’t even remember that your phone is still downstairs, on the garden table, to be specific - where Joshua is still enjoying his breakfast, trying to organize his schedule.
He takes a sip of his coffee, when your phone buzzes repeatedly as your Instagram notifications go off.
Joshua is always mindful of privacy and he has absolute faith in you - but seeing Mingyu’s Instagram handle pop up on your screen makes his skin itch.
His curiosity and newfound insecurity get the better of him and he unlocks your phone (putting his birthday as your password isn’t always the best idea), checking your conversations with Mingyu.
mingyu_k: you’re a damn bitch y/n
mingyu_k: this is all ur fault
mingyu_k: ditching me for a pretty boy and a pretty ring
He makes the mistake of scrolling upwards, reading some of the messages Mingyu has sent you in the past, the majority of them vulgar and depraved, expressing his primal urges - sometimes with nudes.
To his dismay, he sees a lot of your pictures, some dressed ones and some nudes, often reciprocating Mingyu’s whore tendencies.
He closes Instagram, setting the phone down and he runs his hands over his face, gripping his nape. His eyes are wide and his breathing is getting quicker and unsteady, panic overcoming his senses.
He doesn’t remember when was the last time he felt like that - utterly betrayed, scorned and mad as fuck.
You, his precious angel, his beautiful girl, cheating on him with the one person he hates the most.
And he finds out right after proposing to you.
God, he feels so fucking stupid.
He hears your quick footsteps from the stairs and he tries to compose himself when you appear within his field of vision again.
"Where are you off to?" He asks, noticing you have already changed into some sweats and a pair of sneakers.
"I…need to settle some business from…yesterday," you mutter, picking your phone and putting it in your purse, the keys of your car tight in your hand.
"Y/N?" Joshua calls you before opening the door to leave.
"Yeah?"
A beat of silence.
"Hope you'll have a good day, angel."
You just nod with a strained smile, closing the door behind you and you rush to your car, revving up the engine to drive away, your destination - Mingyu's apartment.
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“Do you have any fucking idea of what you did last night or do I have to come over and punch some goddamn sense into your pretty head?”
“I would appreciate it if you could not scream into my ear first thing in the morning,” Mingyu groans, rubbing his forehead, the alcohol in his system still in effect.
“Oh, I’m sorry for causing his Majesty a headache because he’s a pro shit stirrer!” Jeonghan angrily yells into the phone.
“Okay fine, stop yelling! Just…tell me what happened already!” Mingyu whines, pouring himself a glass of water.
“What happened is that the ladies you picked up from the club last night are all over the fucking internet, whoring out with YOU in YOUR house and MY club and the place is now swarming with goddamn paparazzis!”
“Wait- what?”
“You fucking heard me!” Jeonghan barks, “You better get your ass over here and clean up the mess you and your dick have made before I call my lawyer!”
“Fuck, hyung, just- give me a goddamn minute!” Mingyu yells from the other end of the line while trying to put on a pair of sweats and answer the furiously ringing doorbell.
“Shit- coming!” He rushes to the door and opens it in a haste. His expression turns stone cold when he sees you standing right on his doorstep.
“Jeonghan hyung, I gotta go,” he merely responds on the phone and blatantly ignores the older man spitting curses, ending the call and sliding his phone in the pocket of his sweats.
“Seems like everyone is scheming to push trouble towards me today,” he comments, irony laced in his voice.
“Not really needed, since you’re the firstborn of trouble!” you spit back, slamming the door shut as you walk into the apartment.
“Hey, that’s my door and my fucking apartment, so watch it!” he growls at you.
“Or what? What are you gonna do about it, Mingyu? Yell at me some more and then go cause more trouble and bring more people into it? Because you excel in it!” you sneer.
Mingyu grips your arms and pushes you back on the heavy door, his eyes seething with rage.
“At least I’m not fucking around with people and deciding to put a ring on my hand when things get boring all of a sudden.”
“How dare you?!” You yell right into his face, but he slams his lips on yours to shut you up. He tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth and you whine as you try to wiggle your arms out of his iron-like grip.
“I’ve told you before - We’re made of the same shitty material, darling.”
“But you’re way more fucked up than I am,” You slide one of your arms out of his hand and thread it into his hair, forcefully yanking his head back.
“Not the case anymore, love,” Mingyu chuckles dryly, “I’m just here to fuck around - You’re the real homewrecker in this little game.”
He runs his teeth over your slightly exposed shoulder and bites down on your soft skin, his sharp canines leaving two very visible dents behind.
Him and his fucking teeth, you moan and Mingyu takes it as a green light to rub himself all over your crotch. You can feel the outline of his cock through his sweats right on top of your cunt and you swear your sanity is already starting to slip away.
“Always so fucking pliant and weak for me,” He licks over the spot, “Ready to drop everyone and everything for me, even if you’re not my first choice.”
Your breath is hitched in your throat as you realize the meaning of his words and you pull yourself away from him, slapping him across his face.
“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu,” you scream at his face, “You think this is all a game to you, huh?!”
“Who are you to judge?!” He yells back, “You had every single ounce of strength to ignore me but you decided to think with your pussy instead of your brain!”
He slams his hand on the door right next to your face, making you flinch.
“Just because you let me in your pants doesn’t mean I’m the one controlling them,” He firmly states and you push his hand away, turning on your heel to leave his apartment in a rush.
Your feet carry you all the way down to the entrance of the apartment block and you get into the car, slamming the door shut.
You let your pent up feelings get the better of you and you scream on top of your lungs, repeatedly hitting the steering wheel.
“God, I’m such a fucking loser.”
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You close the door behind you, sliding down on the tiled floor, tears freely staining your face.
You feel stupid - You thought you could have played with Mingyu and you actually thought you could win this game.
Well fucking joke’s on you.
“You’re back.” Joshua’s voice snaps you out of it and you get up from the floor, walking towards the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, his steel suitcase right next to him.
“Josh? What is this?” You wipe your face, glancing towards the suitcase, “A-Are you leaving on a trip?”
“The truth is.” He clears his throat, “I never really left, Y/N. I was always here - even if not physically, you were always in my mind, we were always in my mind.”
“I d-don’t understand-”
“Why were you at his house?”
You freeze.
“What? What are you talking-”
“Please, for the love of God, Y/N - Just don’t play dumb with me,” his tone is sour and upset, stabbing you like a well-sharpened knife.
“I….I’m-” You open up your mouth, but you feel your words die down in your throat when you feel his hand brush your hair back to reveal the teeth marks left by Mingyu, a small scoff echoing from his lips.
“....How long?”
“Joshua…”
“I said…How long?” Joshua repeats the question, a bit louder this time.
“.....Since Paris.” you admit and he steps away, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Him?”
“Shua, it was a mistake-”
“Something that happens repeatedly isn’t a mistake anymore, it’s a choice,” he retorts sternly, visibly struggling to keep his temper in check.
A beat of silence passes and you swallow thickly, a fresh stream of tears rolling down your cheeks.
"You know…It's really ironic how you've been lying right into my face like that, but for some sick and twisted reason, I still want to fight for this relationship, the time we spent together, Y/N.....I just love you so fucking much that it sickens me to know you fuck that damn manwhore - God, he doesn't even know what love is-"
"Maybe he wasn't given the chance to l-"
"So you decided to be that chance? You really thought you could teach that arrogant, selfish, destructive asshole how to love - right in this damn house, OUR house?"
"Joshua, I-"
"I honestly don't know who's the more stupid out the two of us, Y/N. I really don’t." Joshua cuts you off, “All I know is that I hate myself for not realizing sooner.”
“Joshie, wait!” You move from your spot when you see him grabbing his suitcase, ready to walk out of the door.
“For how long, Y/N? I’ve waited for so damn long already,” he replies nonchalantly, his words utterly devoid of emotions.
“I can still fix this, we can talk this out - I just…Just give me a chance and I promise you, I will fix everything!” you plead, your hands holding his wrist, tears welling up in your eyes again.
“That’s exactly the problem, Y/N - you’re still making this about you. Not us.” He gives you a strained smile and he lets go of your hands, opening the door and stepping out.
“I will stay at a hotel downtown for a few days,” he informs you, “I believe it should be enough time for you to decide what you really want.”
These are the last words he says before closing the door shut behind him.
It feels like the air in the room has turned colder and the walls have gotten gloomier within those split seconds of Joshua leaving, but the realization of his absence hasn’t reached your rational parts of your brain yet.
The emotional ones, however, are wide awake and you wish they weren’t - you wish it was all a bad dream and if you pinch yourself, you’ll just wake up in your king sized bed, right next to Joshua.
But the bad dream is the reality you have to face now - the very one you shaped with your own two hands, unbeknownst to the man you’re supposed to love and cherish.
The fucking irony.
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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months
Note
HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!! IM NOT SURE IF YOUR REQS ARE STILL OPEN OR NOT, IF NOT, PLEASE IGNORE THIS!
its been like 2 or 3 days since i found your account and your fanfics and they are just perfect like they r literally the defination of perfect
and since i love reading ur fanfics, i wanted to ask if it was possible for you to write a gun x goo fanfic where they both realize that they slowly fall in love to each other, but they r too scared to admit it.. just idiots in love, yk. you write them so good and im here for it hehe.
love you, take care of urself<33
Oof Gun x Goo? Gotta admit, I love this pairing. Thank you so much for reading anon and getting back to your ask like... 8 weeks later (maybe 8 weeks of MORE reading heh). 🫶 Take care too!
Gun Park x Goo Kim: Equals
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What happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force? Two lives fated to entwine for better or worse? Not souls to be saved but dragging each other to depths of depravity and then some.
Gun's ears pricked when he heard the name from Charles Choi. A weapons prodigy, someone meant to be his equal.
And on their first meeting, all Goo could say at first glance was 'woah' to the man standing before him. A legend built through rumours of ferocity and power on the grapevine.
What better way is there to prove everything than with a test of strength?
It didn't take long for them to bring out the brutality in one another. A bloody battle resulting in no clear winner but perfectly matched equals, lasting scars and permanent steel pins.
The beginning of a partnership.
.
.
An object of mutual hatred speeds up their bonding.
Mr. Carpenter. Tom Lee. Someone who tests the limits of their patience and what they are willing to do to achieve their goals.
Day after day, both put through their paces until their bodies are beaten and spirits almost broken.
Gun is the first one to offer a helping hand. A truce. Held in his palm a healing balm developed by the Yamazaki clan to ease the muscles and numb the agony.
It's not much. Though it means at least Goo can go to sleep instead of lying awake, brain kept sharp from his body and limbs pulsing with pain.
Goo calls him a bastard and takes it.
.
.
Opposites in so many ways yet different sides of the exact same coin.
Forced to spend minutes, hours, days, in one another's company. Until they know each other's habits like their own. Know every single button to press. Can predict the next words out of the other's mouth. The time together, the company becoming as natural as breathing.
It was Goo's idea.
After the training, after they both started working formally for HNH.
Cabin fever building from seeing each other day in day out. Partners during business hours, sharing a home during the rest.
Why not prove dominance in other ways Goo had suggested, thinking there is no way Gun Park would say yes to this.
But when all the constant fights only lead to dead ends, what else is there to do? Why not chase a little pleasure with the pain too.
Gun agrees.
It doesn't mean anything. Why would it? It's a means to an end (though the victor is never decided) and a way to fulfil a human need.
.
.
The first inkling of something blossoming is thanks to Sinu Han.
The Boss of Big Deal breaking Goo's glasses and him sulking all the way home.
After listening to his incessant whining for what feels like hours, Gun takes a detour; pulling up straight outside an optometrist and marching the blonde in.
He even pays the bill.
"Aww," Goo places the black frames on and Gun has to admit that his broken ones, the gold pair, never did him enough justice, "A gift for your boyfriend. How kind."
.
.
Little adventures together add up. Nights in a bathhouse. Natural springs. Sailing vast oceans. Drifting under the open sky.
Training and eating and fighting. Against each other or back to back, Gun looking out for Goo and Goo looking out for Gun.
Honing their skills, unknowingly, to fight with a very specific partner by their side.
Hours upon hours upon hours together.
Sunlight following as they drive along highways, experiencing the highs of summer and lows of winter and everything in between. 
Moonlight illuminating dark corners in shady warehouses; casting a glow on all the skin torn open with violence and blood they have spilled.
It's a twisted sort of romance. One that would never be remembered as any great love story but fitting for demons that have never known anything else.
.
.
Karaoke in Ansan is never part of the plan.
(Neither was falling into bed together.)
Completely destroying the place and crew was but not the staying behind, surrounded by broken bodies and singing.
Goo pouts and frowns so much that Gun, even with the vein throbbing on his neck, acquiesce.
And when Gun suggested they make a move back to Seoul soon, and Goo scowled even more, saying he's having fun?
Fine. They stay for another song.
Which turns into 3, into 5, into the whole night.
Gun never gives in to the duet Goo asks for. He considers that a small win.
.
.
Goo is not familar with jealousy. Simply put, he’s an attention seeker. Loves the limelight, seeks it out and demands all eyes on him.
When Gun first started obsessing over Daniel Park, it doesn't affect him. Not really.
But when they're together, Gun is still distracted. Well, that's when it irks him.
On seeing Gun's broken arm, Goo laughed himself silly. It's what that bastard deserves.
Daniel Park should have broken his other one. Maybe snapped a leg too and his neck.
Goo continues to laugh even when he holds up Gun's phone for him.
Even when he knots that asshole's tie.
Even when he follows him to check ups and appointments.
Goo laughs especially hard when he offers to feed him and receives a dirty look in return.
It's only half a joke.
.
.
Everyone knows of their fights, the way they constantly butt heads and gripe at each other.
What no-one else sees are the moments of tenderness. That neither realise they are capable of giving and also could accept.
Goo, one that always prefers to run his mouth, stays quiet. Sitting in the gloom with Gun whenever a successor doesn't work out.
Eagerly takes the brunt of Gun's frustrations with his back arched and whimpers falling from his lips.
Then when finally, the storm passes, Goo is still there. Full of smart quips and sassy remarks until Gun cracks. A smirk, a tiny thing.
But it's there.
.
.
Debt is repaid and so is kindness, though no one is keeping count.
And neither would admit that it's kindness.
The night Goo returns home, shovel in hand after the run in with Charles Choi and Tom Lee, Gun is the one that offers to fight Tom Lee together.
Goo doesn't know how serious he is. Nevertheless the idea makes him cackle. Maybe they would win, maybe they would die together.
It’s kind of poetic, in a way.
In the morning, he wakes with Gun curled around his back and an arm flung over his waist.
.
.
Cards are still held close to their chest; Gun and Goo both keep their secrets. They're at each other's throat as much as they're on each other's lips.
It's an unconventional relationship that would likely doom anyone else but for them, it works.
They never tell one another how they feel, they don't have to. It's not in their nature to say I love you, anyway. Their actions speak for themselves.
.
.
Gun watches his partner, his equal, driving. Humming along to a pop song, windows down and breeze fanning his hair.
It really is strange how they have managed to slot all their broken edges together.
How the line has blurred and turned fuzzy, yet now he can't recall if there was a line in the first place.
Goo, feeling Gun's eyes on him, looks over and snorts when he sees his expression. It's become soft, softer still with each passing day. He would make fun but sometimes he catches himself wearing the same one.
And. Well, he doesn't want to be a hypocrite. Not with this.
Goo grins, wide and a little wild, "We have fun, don't we?"
Gun barely even needs to think about his answer.
"Of course."
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ransprang · 7 months
Note
how about heath ledger's joker and corruption kink? hehehe
Kinktober 2023
Joker x Corruption Kink
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Joker’s eyes widened as he smacked his lips in amusement looking down at his phone. You stood before him with your face contorted with worry as your eyes brimmed with tears and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Please keep your phone down…”
Joker looked up at you “this is horrendous, horrible, might I say degenerate.”
He continued “didn’t know you are such a misfit y/n” he laughed loudly chucking the phone at the table in front. You looked horrified, Joker had found your tumblr.
You walked up to him and held his arm “that was supposed to be my little secret…” hoping this won’t make the man leave you. Joker looked you in the eyes his expression suddenly all serious “you’re filthy muck of this society, you could never be one of them. Pervert.” He smacked his lips as he cupped your face intimidatingly in his hands, Joker brought his face close, his nose touching yours as he said “Why…so serious?”
You were shocked as the man instantly pulled away and laughed while howling “you really thought that would disgust me? Come on now? I’ve thought worse for Batman.” He continued while getting breathless from laughter.
A sigh of relief escaped your mouth, you smirked back. You were disgusting and he loved that. “What kind of thoughts do you have for Batman?” You said twirling your hair hoping to draw ideas for your next post.
Joker now laying on the couch hopped up with a jolt “y/n you won’t understand them, no no no you won’t” he walked around the room shaking his head.
- “haven’t you seen my content? Of course I would.” You retorted.
Joker smacked his lips now bringing his gaze to your eyes “filthy filthy y/n let me share with you a story.” He twirled and continued “there was once a man who had a fantasy, of tying another to the walls of his house and kissing till both were breathless. As his hot thick penis throbbed to enter the walls of the human in front, he teased his own tip, cuz FUCK the pleasure of other people.” He began laughing.
You looked at him invested, now sitting down on the dining table with your face cupped in your hands. Looking at him starry eyed. “Please tell me more!” Joker immediately stopped laughing as he cleared his throat. “ah yes, well then he rubbed his bare chest on the soft skin, the chest of the one tied on the wall. The friction made his heart beat faster, his Dick throbbed. Ached to be rubbed. Hands struggled against the ropes, as I touch myself and start stroking my shaft, looking at the nude body in front of me.”
Joker stood by the window, staring into the twilight sky. It looked like he was searching the horizon, as he spoke in a low voice “I increase my stroking speed rapidly as I feel the burning desire within my body, the chains clank as the body whimpers. Oh to deprave someone of touch when they want you so badly, I feel my tip tingle as my stomach contracts and I release my thick white cum.” He takes out a cigarette and smokes it blowing the smoke into the light breeze outside the window as his smile is now gone.
You get up fascinated, you have respect in your eyes. You love this man, he inspired you. You ran and hugged him from the back tightly, knowing you were going to write many fanfics thanks to your dear boyfriend. “I love you” you whispered. He continued smoking…as you said again “can we please do this today?” Joker shuffled his feet and turned around to face you. He hugged you back and calmly said “I’ll get the ropes and chains out” As he walked away.
your joker,
admin sav
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candycandy00 · 4 months
Text
The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1
Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Read Geto’s Part Here!
Read Toji’s Part Here!
Read Nanami’s Part Here!
Read Gojo’s Part Here!
Read Choso’s Part Here!
Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!
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On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.
Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.
AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!
Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.
Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Needles. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!
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“That’s all you’ll give me for her?”
“I think this is a generous offer, all things considered.”
You’re sitting in a plush leather chair in the office of the owner of the Doll House while your father argues with her about pricing. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, your father growing more agitated while the owner remains calm and firm. 
“Sir,” the owner begins, leaning forward slightly over her desk, “there are two major issues with your daughter. For one, she has a previous owner. Most of our clients consider that a deal breaker.”
“She was just with that guy a little over a year!” your father retorts, his face slightly red. 
“I’m aware of that. But that leads us to the other issue.”  The owner pauses and glances at you. “Your daughter’s scars are quite prominent. They’re very hard to ignore.”
There’s a hint of an apology in her eyes. It’s unnecessary. You know better than anyone that you’re disfigured. Scars of various types and sizes cover over half your body, including a sizable portion of your face. 
Your father is sweating. “I‘ve heard some clients have weird  tastes, that they actually want… people like her.”
The owner leans back in her chair. “It is true that we sometimes get unusual requests. But it doesn’t happen often. She would have to be given highly specialized training, to emphasize that unique aspect.”
Your father’s face lights up. “Then do that!”
The owner looks from him to you, then says, “I need to speak to her privately before finalizing the purchase.”
“What? Why?” your father asks. 
“It’s a routine part of the interview, I assure you,” the owner replies smoothly. 
Your father hesitates, but then stands up from his seat. He gives you a stern look, a warning look, and then he’s out the door. 
The owner’s face seems to soften slightly. “How do you feel about this?” 
You shrug. “I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long time.”
The owner looks at a laptop sitting open on her desk. “Let’s go over a few things in your file first. It says here you were sold on the direct market on your eighteenth birthday. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You were with your previous owner for sixteen months before being removed, during which time he breached the contract by doing permanent harm. Hence the scars.”
“Yes,” you answer again. 
“And I see that your father sued your previous owner, collecting quite the hefty sum for your suffering.”
You nod. 
The owner closes the laptop and looks at you again. “And I’m guessing your father already blew through that money, despite only two years passing. So he’s selling you again. How many other doll shops has he taken you to so far?”
“Three.”
“Any offers?”
“None,” you say, eyes lowering toward the floor. 
The owner sighs. “If I don’t take you, he’s going to sell you on the direct market again, isn’t he?”
“He already tried,” you tell her, “but he said the offers were too low. If no shop will take me, he’ll probably go back and take a low offer.”
The owner grimaces. “He’s a real sick fuck, your father.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to take you on?”
You think for a moment, then say, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything anyway.”
“When you say that,” the owner says, “do you mean physically or emotionally?”
“Both. I’ve been numb for nearly three years now.”
The owner picks up a silk fan from her desk and lightly taps her chin with it as she regards you. After a few moments, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you. I’ll make a slightly higher offer to your father, one he would be foolish to refuse. And in light of your unique circumstances, I’m going to add two extra clauses to your contract. The first is that you will have the option to change trainers if the one I assign to you is too much for you.”
You nod. “And the second?”
“All dolls sold through the Doll House are allowed to come back within one week of being purchased by a client, if they provide sufficient reasoning. In your case, I’m extending that to two weeks, and you don’t have to provide a reason. I’ll take you back, no questions asked, if you feel like your owner isn’t right for you. However, I would advise you not to abuse this privilege.”
“I understand.”
“Alright then. Let’s get your father back in here and finalize the sale.”
******************
Sukuna grins when he sees the message on his phone: “I have a new doll for you to train.”
He’s at home, in his swanky, upscale apartment in the city. Though he enjoys his alone time, he very much enjoys his work at the Doll House as well. Unlike the other trainers, Sukuna doesn’t keep a near constant flow of new dolls. He understands why of course. His training produces a very specific sort of doll that only a specific sort of client wants. But he trains enough dolls to keep himself well paid, and the work is incredibly satisfying. 
The standard training time is six weeks, which is exactly the right amount of time for Sukuna to thoroughly enjoy each doll without getting too bored with them before they’re handed over to their owners. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep the same doll for ten whole years. He knows he’s not alone in this thought, which is why doll rental services have been growing in popularity lately. 
He packs a few things into a small duffel bag. He keeps plenty of clothes and personal items in his room at the Doll House, so he only has to pack lightly for the six week stay. He’s in a good mood as he turns off the lights and locks the door. 
When  he arrives at the Doll House, he finds a rather interesting young woman sitting in the welcome room. Interesting because half her pretty face is covered in scars, as well as what’s visible of her left arm. Just how far do they extend? He’s looking forward to finding out. 
She glances up at him, but gives no reaction. Strange. Most new dolls look terrified, or at least nervous, when they see him for the first time. It’s probably the tattoos that frighten them. Sukuna is well aware that they make him look like a Yakuza member, or some criminal from a past era. But he so enjoys the way people instinctively shrink back away from them. 
The owner meets him in the welcome room and ushers him into her office. All trainers are briefed on their new dolls, except in unusual circumstances. But the owner looks troubled today, meaning this doll has a story. But he supposes the scars made that obvious already. 
Sitting in a chair across the desk from the owner, Sukuna places one elbow on the cushioned arm and props his face up with his hand. “So? What’s the deal with little Miss gloomy out there?”
The owner is tapping keys on her laptop, then he hears his phone chime from his pocket. “I’ve sent you her file. You really need to read over it. She has a complicated history.”
“Give me the short version,” he says, making a mental note to at least skim the file later. 
“Previous owner who abused and tortured her, shitty father who’s sold her twice now, and… she can’t feel anything.”
That last part captures Sukuna’s attention. “What does that mean?”
“She’s completely numb, both physically and emotionally. I’ve read over her medical reports, and they’ve concluded that there’s no significant nerve damage. The scar tissue dulls her senses in those areas somewhat, but they don’t leave her totally numb like this. And she can’t feel anything in the unscarred areas either.”
“Meaning it’s psychological,” Sukuna says. 
The owner nods. “It’s clearly a defense mechanism. Her body and mind simply shut off all sensation in order to cope. And that’s going to be her biggest issue as a doll. There are plenty of buyers who would find the scars exotic, but a doll who doesn’t react to anything? No one wants that. And if we don’t eventually find a buyer for her, she’s going to get passed around from one scumbag to another on the direct market for the rest of her life.”
Sukuna had little interest in the doll’s sob story, but he was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t feel anything. “So you want me to fix her? Make her feel again?”
“Yes. I figured if anyone could, it would be you. But be careful. She’s already been shattered. I don’t need you grinding up the pieces.”
Sukuna stands up and heads for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll reforge her,” he says with a smile, “in a way that pleases me.”
***************
The man covered in strange black tattoos introduces himself as your trainer. He’s handsome, well-built, and dressed like a man far too rich to be working here. A few years ago, you might have been attracted to him. Your heart might have fluttered at the thought of him touching you. But now? Now you feel nothing as he tells you to follow him to his room. 
He opens the door and walks in first, turning on the lights as he goes. You follow behind him and look around. The room looks like someone converted a fancy hotel room into a dungeon. 
The deep red carpets and expensive looking furniture contrast with the various… devices around the room. There’s an X shaped table, harnesses and chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wall of leashes, whips, rods, and other such items along the left side of the room. 
Ah, so he’s this type. 
You’re not surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Give the girl who can’t feel pain to the trainer who tortures his dolls. 
The man, who said his name is Sukuna, is watching your face, looking for a reaction. He won’t find one. But instead of seeming disappointed, he’s grinning. 
“My specialty is probably obvious,” he says, to which you nod. Then he goes over to the wall of tools and toys, taking something small and shiny from it. When he returns, there’s a silver, claw-like item on his right index finger. Without a word of warning, he approaches you and quickly swipes the claw over your exposed right forearm. 
You look down, curious, to see a thin red line appear on your skin, small drops of blood beading along it before sliding down. You watch the blood with no expression for a moment before looking back up at Sukuna. 
His grin is wider than before. “You really didn’t feel that,” he says, not a question but a statement. He’s standing in front of you, staring at you, when he says, “Let me ask you something, and think hard about your answer. It’s going to determine how the training proceeds.”
You nod. 
“Do you prefer being this way to how you were before?”
You blink as the question settles into your mind. You’ve never really thought about it before, but do you prefer being numb? It’s helped you block out the hurt you felt upon being sold off by your father, being abused by your owner, but it also blocks out any joy. 
“I… I don’t know.”
He’s looming over you, looking down with an expression you can’t quite place. Is it desire? Pity? Disgust? Or have you lost the ability to distinguish them? 
“Do you want to feel again?” he asks, something about his deep tone telling you to answer honestly. The sheer intensity of his presence is overwhelming you. 
You can still remember when you felt things. You can remember a poor but happy childhood when your mother was still alive. Even after, when things got worse, there were still moments of happiness. Watching movies with a friend, eating cheap snacks from the convenience store down the street. A kiss from the boy you had a crush on in high school. You miss these feelings. And once you realize that, your answer is clear. 
“Yes, I want to feel again.”
“Even if what you feel is pain?” he asks. 
An emotion you haven’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, startling you so much that your voice cracks slightly as you reply, “Yes! I’d love to feel pain again. I’d love to feel anything!”
A smile spreads across his features, and his hands move to your shirt. “I’ll make you feel again,” he says as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “But it will only work if you want it.”
“I… I want it,” you say, realizing with some measure of shock that you’re already feeling emotions you thought long dead. 
He removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them strewn about the floor. Then he stands back to look at you. Completely bare before him, you don’t feel embarrassed. Shame is yet another emotion you can’t seem to feel anymore. But there is a strange prickling sensation on your skin as his eyes rake over you, taking in the scars that form a map of your suffering. 
“It’s like a work of art,” he says, his gaze lingering on the left side of your torso. The words make you feel something else, but you’re not sure what that is. Your own emotions have become unfamiliar to you. 
He leads you over to the X shaped table and lifts you onto it, then spreads you out on it like a meal. He slowly attaches the leather cuffs on each end to your ankles and wrists, still watching your face for any sign of fear. 
There is none. You’re starting to feel things for the first time in three years, but fear isn’t one of them. If he can bring back the girl you once were, one who could laugh and smile and feel, then you’ll accept anything he wants to do to you. 
Once you’re secured to the table, he stands back and unbuttons his shirt. When he slips it off his shoulders, you get a full view of the intricate tattoos on his body. They’re beautiful, the way they move and twist with his body’s motion. 
He steps back to the table and runs one large hand over your arm, trailing it down toward your chest, where he squeezes your scarred breast. You can’t feel it, so you don’t know if he’s squeezing hard or not, but when his fingers lightly slide over your nipple, a tingling sensation blossoms there. What was that? 
Did he notice that you felt something? You don’t think you visibly reacted in any way, but he’s smiling as if he knows. His fingers suddenly pinch your nipple, and you feel pressure, but little else. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and runs his tongue over that same nipple, then wraps his lips around it. You feel it again, that pleasant tingling. It reminds you of something, but you can’t remember what. 
His hand moves to your other breast, where his fingers grope and pinch. You feel this a little more, and your breathing quickens slightly. That’s when he stops abruptly and goes over to the wall again. This time he returns with a rolled up velvet pouch, which he unrolls to reveal a group of very long, very thin, shiny silver needles. 
He pulls one out and holds it up for you to see. “Let’s see how numb you really are,” he says. Then he grips your scarred nipple between his finger and thumb with one hand while using the other to bring the needle closer. He looks up at your face, perhaps still searching for a trace of fear. Finding none, he pushes the needle in, sliding it sideways through your flesh. 
Your breath hitches as a new sensation hits you. This… this is pain! You haven’t felt it in so long, you’d almost forgotten it. When he grips the other nipple, the one with no scar tissue to dull your senses, you almost flinch. He grins up at you, as if he’s reading your mind. He leans down and licks the nipple slowly, awakening it to sensation, before plunging the needle in. 
This time you gasp, your arms reflexively tugging on the restraints. You felt that! Not as keenly as a normal woman would, but far more than you’ve felt anything else in years. It hurt. It still hurts as his hand squeezes your breast, his tongue running over the needle imbedded in your skin. But you welcome the pain. It’s far more preferable to no feeling whatsoever. 
Then he steps back again, and walks around the table to the bottom, where he moves in between your widely spread legs. His hand moves to your pussy, kneading it gently for a moment before his fingers slip inside your folds, finding you clit. 
You draw in a sharp breath as he strokes it, feeling the pleasure so strongly that it’s almost as if you were never numb. Your previous owner had ignored your clit, having no interest in giving you pleasure, so these sensations were entirely new to you. 
When Sukuna uses his fingers to spread you open and leans forward to lick your quivering clit, your body nearly jerks off the table. He rises up and looks at you. “Not so numb down here, are you?”
You can only gasp out shallow breaths.  
His thumb begins stroking you again as he speaks. “I don’t care who your previous owner was.” He reaches over and pulls one more needle from the pouch, his tongue running over you again, making your nerves come alive. “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand different owners before me.” His thumb and finger pinch your clit, holding it in position. Your heart races as you wait, now holding your breath. “Because now,” he says, gliding his tongue across the glimmering needle in his hand, “you belong to me.”
He pushes the needle into your clit from the bottom and out the top, so slowly that you feel every single bit of it. Your body bucks from the table, your arms and legs jerk against the cuffs, and a loud scream erupts from your mouth as you feel excruciating pain for the first time in three years. 
It’s wonderful. 
Tears spring to your eyes, and you cum on the spot, weeping and shuddering. You were certain you would never experience an orgasm again for the rest of your life, but here you were, riding out the insane pleasure while Sukuna’s tongue prodded your clit, licking over the needle stuck there. 
**************
Sukuna watches his doll as she sleeps peacefully in his bed. She passed out not long after the “training session” was over, just as he was unfastening the cuffs on her wrists. He carried her to his bed and laid her there, and now he’s looking over her scarred form once more before covering her. 
He’s surprised by the progress they’d already made, but he can’t get too comfortable. 
Because he noticed it. When he pulled the needles out of her, which should have hurt, she didn’t even flinch. He’d squeezed one nipple afterwards, before beginning to uncuff her, just to test it. This should have made her scream, given how sore she should be, but she had no reaction at all. 
Meaning she’s numb again. The awakening of her senses was only temporary, and wore off after she came down from the high of her orgasm. 
Sukuna smiles. He certainly enjoys a challenge, and it’s clear to him that his job is far from over. 
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corvid007 · 3 months
Text
fanfic conflict idea for hazbin.
Reader/Oc writes a letter to Ozzie letting him know of the mistreatment and abuse happening to them/other Valentino workers (you choose how the reader knows of Ozzie wether it be Lucifer, Blitzo, or Fizz or something). they write the letter letting Ozzie know that this treatment is happening under the Overlord of LUST and depravity, this possibly giving Ozzie a bad name. while out for a walk with Val to a club or something (reader has the letter in their purse[for some god reason]) they see an I.M.P worker or something(you decide the backstory, cant be too close or they would just tell them in private). Reader tells Val they they will be a moment. Reader quickly runs over to [worker] and hands them the letter with a small pouch of coins(or cash, idfk) and asks them to get the letter to Ozzie (or just call them the sin of lust if they dont know him). Val yells at them to “hurry up” only for reader to yell back “one sec!”. Reader apologises and before worker can ask for what, reader yells/hits them and runs away from them. Val askes what that was about/what they were doing, reader responds with something loosly beleiveable like, “i wantdd to know how they had the bravery/audacity to leave the house looking like that” or “i wanted a smoke from them but they told me to fuck off”. Val offers to ‘take care’ of them only for reader to quickly reapond ‘no!’, softly coughs or clears throat then say, “you dont beed to Val/Daddy you shouldn’t need to waste your time or resorses on someone/something so worthless” while looking back at them.
BOOM i pretty much wrote the entire scene for you but i can’t for the life of me be bothered to write the whole fanfic to build up to the scene. if someone writes this please let me know! i would love to see the out come☺️
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