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tonycries · 2 months

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Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Synopsis. He fucks you like he hates you. You didn’t mean to fuck your old friend-with-benefits - truly - it just kinda happened.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Reader, hate sex, ex-friends-with-benefits, slight angst, he’s still in love with you, unprotected sex, jealous sex (from his side), choking, marking, pet names (my love, sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Ummmmmmmm yeah. Art by @_3eam on X.

He fucks you like he hates you.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

“Do it then. What? Scared he’ll do it bet-”

Cut off by a pathetic gurgle - his large hand around your throat. Ringed fingers tightening right above your pulse, the cold metal digging into your searing skin.

Your vision is bleary, blood roaring in your ears as he leans down, muscled front against your back. His breath is hot against your face as he whispers lowly, “Running your mouth a bit too much, my love. You do the same with him as well?”

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to your cunt, pulsing and clenching furiously around his throbbing tip. Teasing your dripping entrance. Unmoving.

Your walls burn, struggling at the stretch of his thick head, yet still wanting the bastard to fucking move. Such a fucking tease. He was always like this - even back when you two were together, but that’s a story for another time.

Turning to glare at him over your shoulder, “So what if I do? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

You’re either an idiot or a mastermind.

Maybe both. Because you feel his achingly hard cock twitch animalistically inside you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across those kiss-bitten lips you knew too well. You hated how much you wanted them on yours right now.

“You’re right. I’m not anyone to you.” he murmurs venomously, swiftly capturing the tender skin of your exposed neck, sharp teeth digging into you. Branding you.

You keen, hips bucking uselessly against his bruising grip on your hips as he pulls away. God, you felt so used - and it made your walls flutter around him so desperately.

Two long fingers reach up to squeeze your cheeks together mockingly into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look at him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for everyone. Including that little prick you’ve tried to replace me with.”

Your eyes flutter open in shock - you didn’t even realize they were scrunched up - getting lost in the ones boring into yours, half-lidded and pupils blown ferally. Electricity jolts through your body at the pure lust and rage whirling in his intense gaze.

You two were going to be the deaths of each other.

You two were always going to end up like this.

You’ve barely even finished the thought before his flushed tip is kissing your cervix so painfully good.

“Hah- Oh, fuck. Fuck you.” Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheaths himself completely in you. A low hiss leaves his swollen lips as he pulls out agonizingly slow, inch by inch, prominent veins dragging along your g-spot.

“Fuck, you sure you hate me? Because this pussy seems like she can’t get enough of me, hm?”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by his rock-hard cock bullying its way back into your snug cunt. He fucks you animalistically, heavy balls stinging your pussy as his cock rams in and out of your hole over and over at a relentless pace.

Strangled mewls of ah! ah! ah! leave your swollen lips as large fingers presses tight circles into your clit at a merciless rhythm matching the cadence of his hips.

You mindlessly writhe against him, you felt so full - so split open on his cock. It was too much to handle. He was always too much to take.

“Now now, don’t hah- run away from me, my love. If you’re going to act like such a fucking slut then take it like one.” he purrs, lip curling into a smug smirk that you wanted to smack off his pretty face. You couldn’t stand him - but you couldn’t get enough of him either.

“I’m not the hah- o-one that runs away. And- hngh- I’m not your ‘love’” you grit, because God forbid you go down without a fight - even when you’re falling apart completely under him.

What else could he have even expected? You always did see through him.

God, did he love that bitchy mouth of yours.

Huffing out a surprised laugh, he wraps a strong arm around your waist pulling you deeper onto his throbbing cock - grip hard enough that he knows you’ll have marks to remember him by. Not like he planned on letting you ever forget him in the first place.

“You always did know how to push my buttons, huh, my love?”

“Could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

Fuck that stupid fucking petname. How is it that even after years of not hearing it, his heart still lurches the same as it falls out of your mouth? That annoying, nagging part of his brain wonders if you call him the same thing.

And maybe you could read minds - he wouldn’t be surprised - because you open those pretty lips to say “Though, you’re not my sweetheart anymore, huh?”

Unexplainable anger seethes under his skin in a way that makes him want to claw it off.

“Fuck you.” he hisses, turning your face so his mouth clashes with yours. It’s all bruising urgency and teeth clashing at the breathless dance of your tongues.

His cock speeds up it’s abuse on your cunt, fucking you with impatient, harsh thrusts that have his leaking tip kissing your cervix. Had it not been for his firm hand around your throat, you were sure you’d have been slammed into the headboard creaking in protest.

“You drive me fucking insane. Fuck you.”

He hates the whines of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, and how it’s his favorite song.

He hates the tears clinging to your lashes in a way that makes him want to burn down anything that made you cry. Including himself.

He hates the way your cunt clamps down on him as if it hurts to part - he wishes you felt the same.

He hates the way he can’t let you go.

You were perfect, so perfect. Too perfect for him. He was probably better for you - all stability and reassurance where he is nothing but a whirlwind of change.

In one, fluid move, he’s pulled out of the snug heaven of your dripping cunt - flipping you onto your back to stare into those beautiful eyes that haunt him every night.

"Let's forget everything else, if just for tonight."

And with those words, he’s back inside you again, ramming into you with purpose. Though his thrusts are as unforgiving as ever, something about the air feels charged with something different. A rawness that both of you would have shied away from.

“Th-this doesn’t hngh- fix us, y’know.”

“I know, my love.”

His low words muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the bite mark with a tenderness that doesn’t translate into his hips. And you can’t overthink it - because your head is only filled with him and the way your cunt is milking his thick cock so good.

And later you’ll probably blame your foggy thoughts for the reason why your hands subconsciously wrap around his muscled shoulders, pulling him so impossibly close until you can feel his heartbeat thundering under your touch - in sync with your own. One. Two. Three.

“Ah! Shit. Doing so good, cunt made jus’ f’me. You’re made jus’ f’me.” choked moans leave his throat as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to look into your fucked out eyes.

“Perfect f’me, my love.”

Maybe at his words - or maybe at his predatory, blown-out gaze - you buck your hips to desperately meet his. Breathless moans of his name leaving your bruised lips.

With a final, purposeful thrust of his cock, he pulls you once more into a familiar, searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. You see stars as you cum, mind barely registering the thick ropes of his seed that fill your quivering cunt.

A low groan leaves him as his cum forms a thick, white ring around his base, dripping down your legs and onto the bedsheets that he knew were your favorite. It was feral - and at least for this moment, it made him feel like yours.

Some carnal part of him keeps bucking his hips into you as if on instinct, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper the way he would as lovers, his strong arms wrapped around you to keep you from moving away. But he didn’t have to, because right now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Keeping you close. As if he never wanted to let go - both of your bodies a mindless whisper of what your minds craved.

A delicate intimacy that only your bodies could bring rings in the sex-filled air. And when he finally stops, body collapsing onto yours - he whispers a secret. Meant for only the two of you in this quiet world.

“Fuck me like you still love me.”

Because by God was he in love with you.

- Gojo, TOJI, SUGURU, Atsumu, SUNA, Tsukishima, SAKUSA, EREN

A/N. Maybe I’ll do some fluff next week to make up for this…

Plagiarism not authorized.

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lust444men · 5 months

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sorry but I feel like when Hobie is in one of those moods, he'd be the biggest dickhead in bed. You want it slower? He'll go faster. You want it faster? he'll go slower. Don't stop? He's stopped. Coming? He pulled out and ruined your orgasm.

warnings: slightly dom!Hob? x fem!reader, rough, overstim, mocking, teasing, slight dumbification?? idk. ruined orgasm. unprotected sex, use protection, don't be stupid!! oral (f rec). hes abit of a cocky bastard. fink that's it.

(all consensual, hush up!!!)

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Hobie roughly pounds into you, his hands leaving a bruising grip on your hips, his eyes connected to his dick slipping in and out of you with ease. He hears your whimpers and whines fill the air, the sound making him impossibly harder. He slows his pace, letting you catch your breath.

"Ay, c'mon, doll. We jus' started. Don' tell me you're givin' up a'ready?" He cooed gently, his hand brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "I-I'm o-oka-" Your words were cut short when he suddenly slammed back into you, hitting that sweet spot and making you splutter a whimper.

"Yeh? Then take i'." He mumbled roughly, his hand coming back down to your hip, his head now finding itself buried in your neck, placing soft kisses to harsh bites, marking you up. He leaned back up, a smirk gracing his pierced lip as he watches your fucked out expression.

"Wha's wrong, baby?" He asked with faux sympathy.

"S-slower! S'too much!" You mumbled, your hands fumbling to push at his hips. He chuckles lowly, grabbing both your hands in one of his, pushing it above your head.

"Slower, ay? Okay, baby." He whispered, kissing your forehead before smirking and picking up the pace, enjoying the way you writhe and moan beneath him.

"M'gonna come! Fuck- oh fuck. Bee, please." You begged, wriggling your wrists in his hold.

"S'okay, luv. You can come. Come f'me." He cooed, but the second he saw your body tense up and he heard your signature mewl, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ruining your orgasm. You whined, your legs shaking from the aftermath of a sad orgasm, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Why did you do that?! let me come." You complained, hating the way his face lit up and he smirked at you.

"Awh, m'sorry, luv. Le' me make i' up ta ya, yeah?" He whispered gently, kissing your temple before going down your body, hooking your legs over his shoulder, kissing his way down your thigh and towards your cunt, enjoying your little breaths and mumbled pleas. He gripped your thighs, the cold metal from his rings a sharp contrast to your skin that feels like it's on fire with every touch he gives you. Finally giving you what you wanted, he swiped his tongue through your folds, switching between soft licks and rough licks to your clit.

"Ohh god. Oh god." You whimpered, your hand tangling in his messy wicks as you tugged, pulling him closer.

"No god, baby. Me." He mumbled against your cunt, before delving back in, one hand sliding off your thigh to join in, two fingers slipping inside you with ease, moving in the same rhythm as his tongue did, immediately bringing you closer.

"Hobie! m'gonna come. m'so close." You said, your eyes meeting his that were already staring at you, a devilish glint in them. The sight alone made you crash head first into your intense orgasm, your head falling back as your hips rocked against Hobie's face. He happily lapped up every last bit of you, not even changing the pace of his fingers or tongue. You came down from your high, mewling softly, the feeling of overstimulation burning into your skin.

"Hob- too much." You said, attempting to roll your hips away from him, only to be yanked back.

"Nah, luv. You said you wan'ed to come, so you're gon' come f'me, yeah?"

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I love how I disappear for months, come back for 3 days, write smut about hobie, n dip again. at least its good smut. (I hope it is)

ps. check out my 400 celebration post >> here

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evilminji · 6 months

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I just had a Thought that smacked me upside the head and insulted my mother (o.o )

You know how in DC, much like in most media, all Forces have an opposing Force? Fire to Water, Yin to Yang, Order to Chaos, etc etc. Well.....

If you ADD in DP's The Zone?

That right there? Is a Realm. An Element Of Creation. Yes, the glue, the very lining, of the Multiverse. Buuuuuuuut? What is it CONNECTING? The FABRIC? The SHELL and FORM?

What, in a word, is it's Reverse Element? Just as the Speed Force has the Slow Force. As Chaos has Order. What does the Realm of Death have?

I hear you suggest "the living world?" But! Rightfully, you sound uncertain! Because! Death is INHERENT to the so called "living world". Everything is! Order, chaos. Ying, Yang. Fire and water and earth and air! All of it! It's the mid-ground. Shared and thus balanced.

So what sits on the other side of the coin?

I? Propose? Those fffffuckin IMPS! The 5th dimensional imps, known to haunt our beloved DC Heros. Immortal. Eternal. Life unending.

Driven to cruelty and boredom by it.

They are a brilliant, distorted, reflection of the Ghosts we know! Are they not? Not every Imp so powerful as the ones we've seen. But? If, say, Overgrowth or Clockwork? Wanted to just pop in to harrass their favorite Blorbo?

What's a little veil between Realms?

Only thing STOPPING them, is themselves. The Rules. You know... the ones THEY made. Because Goverment. Kinda like the Observants. Walker. Danny and his throne.

I bet they HAAAAAATE each other.

Both have Obsessions, but gods help you if you compare them. Because Ghosts Obsess with the steadiness of the Dead. The unchanging, unrelenting, persistence. While IMPS? Obsessions like firecrackers! Shifting, changing, sticking on this or that! Maybe for a nano-second! Maybe for eons! Who knows?! Not them!

They both think the other side are FREAKS.

The single most OBNOXIOUS, Irritating, Grating, Petty, PATHETIC group of LOSERS you will ever be unfortunate enough to meet.

You think Danny hates the Joker? Is On Sight with HIM? You know NOTHING of his hatred for those big headed little balls of nasally BASTARD energy. It's like weasels and snakes.

Clark loves it. Danny keeps getting free pie. Because EVERY time that Imp comes to harrass him? *unholy staticy yowl screech* *flying tackle out of the air into a cartoonish dust cloud fist fight* here comes the normally cheerful and polite Phantom, looking POSSESSED. To claw Mxyzptlk's throat out.

Of course, the Imps refuse to give up. They were stalking their targets first. PHANTOM should leave.

Phantom shouts something that makes them gasp, deeply offended, and the nearby magic users choke on their own spit.

Yep. Clark LOVES the newest addition to the team. Best decision they ever made, Bruce. He's DELIGHTFUL :D

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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privitivium · 2 months

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Uhhh i been thinking how about yan two alphas competing for a Omega nerdy Male reader.... Like imagine a yan jock alpha that "needs" helps on whatever test/exam (When in reality he only wants the male reader) but the yan bully alpha see that as a threat because he also wants the reader and there is no way he leting a stupid jock take him away from him..

I can also imagine that the reader gets rail from both of them after they realise that the reader is probably "save" with the both of them (Is like a way to not give up on the reader and also keeping him close even if they hate sharing the reader :3)...

real. i like the jock n bully thing so i might reuse that as some kinda ramble fic,,, sorry for any mistakes, subbot reader

yan alpha jock + bully duo x nerdy omega reader

cw;; dubcon, plain nsfw, spitroasting - tiny dick having reader

jock and delinquent... nearly always going at it. couldnt help but snap at each other - the lingering scent of the other around your locker - you just had to know what was up right? no way you were that much of an oblivious moron... jock believes that you do know about his like towards you, and you're just a flustered little thing not knowing what to do with himself, no idea how to react to such a big strong guy taking a liking to you!!

no worries, he'll help you come out of your shell, silly-! wouldn't you rather he help you than that wretched fucking bastard delinquent? haha, yeah, he figured... sauntering up so confidently to your locker, nose twitching at your apparent flusteredness - what happened while he was away for a brief moment?! god dont look at him with those wide little eyes, he doesnt want you to be scared of him,,, though he cannot deny the feeling of his prick twitching at your intent, wide-eyed stare... looking like a bunny in shock. yeah, he understands why you would be surprised... him loitering around your locker and finally having the courage to actually talk to you so confidently!!

merely scheduling a time to tutor him is all... he desperately needs it - calling himself such an idiot as he nearly begs you for it - answering with a soft;; "alright! alright, yesㅡsure, jeez..." aw, he's sorry he's a bit pushy, but you have to demand these sort of things with someone so nervous like you-! ecstatically sauntering away the way he came... score! a tutoring session with his adorable little guy he stalks on the down lowㅡhah! beat that! all fucking smug as he so happens to pass by the dude he was ruling against... tossing him an evil, cruel look. that fucking bastardㅡ

ㅡ"what do you think youre doing?" he burst into the classroom you were occupying - an onega and alpha alone together - and it's not you and him!??! - so suddenly - you, squeaking in surprise that he pauses a moment to assess you... before turning his attention to that wretched jock

ㅡ"i'm being tutored, what does it look like?" he grumbles, cocking an eyebrow with his hand on your inner thigh. it doesn't quite look like ... he's being tutored. observing your embarrassed, hunched over figure, nearly squirming away from jock's touch - "man, th-that.. just isn't fair..." delinquent hisses in disappointment, stepping closer after locking the door behind him. the scent would be enough - of two alphas so clearly horny; infiltrating your nostrils and overpowering your sense of logicㅡ"this isn't a fair fight!" he continues, lurking closer - "you taking advatange of him-!" truly, a mindless rant. to try and curve his aggression as he smells the lingering scents of embarrassment and arousal - god, stop staring at him like that?!!

"ye-yeah i mean he'll- with us as his-" delinquent pauses, grumbling and huffing as he inhales the scent of your delicious fucking scent and nearly cumming before willing himself; stiffening and grabbing hold of your hips to ground himself;; "he'll be fine with both of us around you fucking idiot, don't you ever think?" he snarked, nearly snarling as he jerks forward - grinding his into your rear roughlyㅡ

they just cant help themselves, you know... your scent filling their brains and all they can think about is filling you to the brim. snd it looks that way you're thinking the same thing, huh??? i mean - practically eyefucking them right??!!! it'a your own fault!

"isn't he so pretty." jock mumbled, eyes raking over your figure strewn out over the desk they were going to have to dispose of - "he's so cute. so compliant... he's actually pretty calm with both of us here huh?" mentioning casually with a truely breathless moan of a voice; yes, calm - your face tear stricken and darkened in color with a blush, choking around his cock and trying so hard to swallow and to calm yourself downㅡyes, that's good.. you're doing so good.

"no need to be so angry..." jock mumbled, nearly in a trace, staring down at you so lovingly and ever so gently grazing his palm along your cheek. praising you.. "be gentle with him, you jackass. he deserves it." he scoffs, passing a cruel glare toward the other - gently caressing your face; completely unminding of your tears and drool dribbling down your face. seeming to find you pretty either way...

ㅡit was a true wonder how the two top dogs weren't brawling over who gets to stick their dick inside you first - quite complacent with their positions... one getting to stare into your eyes and pet you while you take his cock down your hollowed out throat and the other getting to feel the walls of your heat clamping on his prick - nearly sucking his fat length into you;; both inhaling the scent of your pungent arousal and obvious embarrassment - it was seen as a plus to fucking you as it permeates the room. "s-shut up! don't tell me how to treat him..." he complains, jaw tensing as he hunches over, nearly panting.

"at least I'm the one who gets to feel their tongue on his cock first.." he hisses, gloating as he slowly rocks into your mouth; tongue along the underside of his girth and instinctively hollowing your throat... and him, making sure to gently caress your tears away and praise you for taking him so well, taking him fully that your nose was buried in his trimmed cut. "-and i'm the one who gets to feel their tight little walls clamp on my cock - first." delinquent snarls- slick dripping down ones' sack before he glances downward at your sudden tighteningㅡloosening his strong grip on your waist with guilt riddling his toughened expression...

ㅡ"a-ah, sorry, sweetheart..." delinquent's grumbling voice could be heard faintly over the sound of your soft sobs and mewling... fumbling around and reaching downward inbetween your trembling legs - cum dribbling from your prick that he so gently takes hold of. "so tiny..." he snickers breathlessly, hips snapping forward as he languidly strokes your cock completely messy with your cum - "just like it's cute owner..."

#yandere alpha.....#ocs =͟͟͞͞★#x male reader #male reader #x bttm male reader #x sub male reader!#sub male reader #bttm male reader #dom male character #top male character!#yandere x male reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere m x m reader #yandere male x reader

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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Liar Liar

Just a little Protective!Austin Butler x Wife!Reader blurb

Summary - After a rather unpleasant encounter with a familiar neighbor at your local supermarket, you come home to your husband, Austin, teary-eyed and shaken up. He handles it, and afterward, he handles you.

Warnings - Mid-Late 60s AU, vague mention of unspecified sexual harassment/assault, swearing, hinted at violence, protective Austin crying, angst, Austin is a bit insensitive here, Austin is set to be a morally grey person outside of his love for you

WC - 2k

Author's Note - So I haven't used this account in forever mostly because I haven't felt like writing much lately, I've been lacking inspiration, but I was scrolling through pinterest and saw that picture of Austin, and good god. Anyways now we're here, enjoy. This was also supposed to have a very smutty ending but it felt too random the way I was formatting it so I tossed it, so this ending is random and abrupt, but again it's just a blurb

The sound of Austin's tongue clicking at the two orange cats that wormed their way through his legs and around his feet was cut off by a wince as he knicked his thumb on the ridged edge of the cat food can.

Normally you'd feed the cats just before starting dinner, but you'd gone to the grocery store over half an hour before to grab a few ingredients. Austin didn't mind feeding the cats. Although he pretended to think they were a menace to the home, truth be told he didn't mind the cats as long as you weren't around, when you were around he'd get jealous of the love you showed the cats, almost like a child.

"Damnit…"

He mumbled softly before bringing the knick up to his mouth to suck the blood up. He could hear you already nagging him about using soap and water, you were very passionate about hygiene and health. He could also hear you nagging him about using a knife to open the can instead of the state-of-the-art electric can opener you bought at a Home Show. He hated when you went to those things, he feared you would realize the poor quality of life that his job provided the two of you with, seeing all that gorgeous furniture while your own was hand-me-down from his parents and going on 13 years old this June.

The cats let out a choir of meows that were beginning to overpower the tune that Austin had playing on the record player, Bring It On Home to Me, Sam Cooke. Austin still wasn't quite over his death, so Cooke had kept the both of you company many mornings and nights as Austin's way to honor him. Austin sighed softly,

"Alright alright, it's coming you glutinous bastards"

He used his uncut hand to peel back the rest of the can's top, then after walking to the cat bowls, he, in a very unceremonious manner began beating and battering the open end of the can into the poor plastic bowls. After a dozen or so pounds (one of which may have been from the angry neighbors in the apartment below), the food was dished out and the cats were happy as clams.

He tossed the can into the sink, confident you would sort through it later as you'd been getting quite involved in some sort of environmental shenanigans with those hippies which involved reusing cans for art or other projects. Austin didn't like you around them truthfully.

As Austin took a quick swig of a bottle of brandy he heard the front door open and close. Not an unusual occurrence. If you went out the door, of course, you'd come back in the door. What was unusual was the lack of that sing-song voice of yours. There was no, "I'm home!!", no "Baby guess what?!", no "Where are my pretty kitties?" in reference to both Austin and the actual cats, there was nothing. And it was eerie, making Austin for a moment furrow his brows and crane his neck to see if it was you.

He smiled softly at the sight of your figure, you were turned away from him, a bag in each arm, trying to lock the door, it's something you'd done many times before, but this time your arms were too shaky to keep it all together, and with a clatter and crash of glass one of the bags fell from your arms, landing on the floor, making you jump back in shock.

The noise had surprised Austin as he flinched at the sudden ruckus, quickly rounding the counter, letting your pet name "Babydoll", slip through his lips in worry as he did so. Thankfully he noticed whatever glass jar or bottle you'd bought at the market had broken in the bag so there weren't shards strewn about, his rough hand landed on your wrist to turn you around, but you'd jumped and turned at the sensation, not expecting him to touch you, or be so close to you.

"Woah, woah, babydoll what's the matter?"

At his concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows of confusion your face had crumpled and you let out a child-like cry, ugly in all its manner, but as raw as can be. Your arms stretched out to him as your face continued to contort in a way Austin had not yet seen. Now it wasn't unusual for you to cry, you had always been a bit of a crybaby truthfully, but you hadn't cried so helplessly for as long as Austin could remember.

"Baby? Honey, what's wrong?"

He kept trying to push you away far enough to make eye contact with you, but before he could you kept curling your head back into his chest or shoulder. "What happened?" His voice was stern but there were hints of sympathy that only you could detect as you continued to cry into his chest.

"T-thomas…"

Austin's forehead wrinkled at the name in confusion. Thomas was a tenant in the same apartment building, you and Austin had met him a few times before and he had confided in Austin about his issues regarding how unsteady his job was, how much he'd been spending on alcohol, and the kind of dark conflicting thoughts he'd had. All those things combined and the fact that Thomas' wife often sported a bruise after the entire apartment building was subjected to listening to their arguments had given Austin enough reason to tell you to stay away from him.

"What's he got to do with this Baby?"

With your silence and sniffles being his only current answer, Austin's imagination goes wild, and those soft pillowy lips thin into a line of concentration. His rough hands which have only handled your body carefully, begin to forcefully latch onto the sides of your head, pulling your head back to finally look him in the eye. It felt like your skull might soon cave in and you weren't sure if it was the overwhelming feelings of the moment or if he was just using that much force. You knew very well it could've been the latter.

Your lip quivers as you look up at his blank face. He let out a shudder of a breath and asked with a jittery, almost sinisterly excitable look in his eye, "Did Tommy touch you? Did he lay a hand on you like he does his wife? He hit you?"

You attempted to shake your head only to feel his hold on your head grow tighter as he edged his face closer to yours. As he stared at you through those blank glassy eyes, like he didn't have a clear, coherent thought behind them, he asked another question.

"What did he do?"

The eye contact was getting to be too much, you felt like too much of a wreck to answer, so you closed your eyes, and with the closing of your lids, tears slid down your cheeks simultaneously. And that was enough of an answer for Austin. His voice was gravelly, as he mumbled, "That fucking-"

Before he could finish his statement, he'd paced back into the kitchen, pulling a drawer open roughly, you could hear by the clatter it made that it was either the silverware drawer or the knife drawer. It didn't matter which, in Austin's state he could do a decent amount of damage with either.

Finally, you regained your voice, "Austin…" but it was too late, he was already about to pace right by you. But you grabbed his wrist with both hands, "Austin..!" He turned to look at you and had easily released himself from your grip, instead now he held your wrist and pulled you over to the couch.

By now your tears were from both your experience with Thomas but also your worry for Austin. You didn't want him doing something that would land him in jail. You knew that he had been the kind of man in the past to run with the wrong crowd and he already did have a criminal record, which is part of the reason his job has such shitty pay. They say old habits die hard but you didn't want another man to die with it.

Your voice was quivery and weeping as you put two shaky hands on his free hand, pleading rather than asking, "Y-you're not gonna kill him, are you? You're not gonna touch him right? Oh please Austin it's not a big deal, I don't want you to-"

"Stay here. I don't want you to go off and get yourself into more fucking trouble"

Austin paced to the hook holding his brown jacket and quickly shrugged it over his white tank, zipping it before making his way out the door. He didn't even spare you a look before slamming the door to the apartment shut.

You felt hurt by the statement, it wasn't something he'd normally say, and he didn't tend to speak to you like that. But you could reassure yourself that it's just because he's so worried about you. Austin tended to be a little mean when he was overwhelmed, angry, sad, or worried. But you knew to listen to his command in this state.

For the next hour or so you had calmed yourself down and had tucked yourself into the corner of the worn, plush sofa. Your cats Marlon and Kick were cuddled up to you with Marlon by your feet and Kick on your lap. And just as you were beginning to nod off you heard the lock click and door open. The apartment was quite small so your living room and kitchen happened to also be your apartment entry. You turned your head and saw Austin looking cautious as he entered the apartment.

Whenever he yelled at you he had that cautious look before approaching you, it was cute and boyish. It made you forget he ever yelled. As he walked closer the dim, yellow lighting of the living room lamp gave you a sight of a reddish, brownish color stained onto the fabric of his brown jacket, it wasn't in large splashes, it was more so a little spatter on the two the sleeves and over the front center. Your stomach dropped as you questioned, "Aus, is that.."

"It's my own Honey, it was a fair fight, fists only"

He said that as if it would make you feel better, well it did a little, knowing it was less likely for him to have killed the guy and get put away for life. Austin shrugged off the jacket and tossed it into the laundry room which was more of a closet really, before walking over to sit on the sofa next to you. His white tank was completely unharmed, still a pristine white.

You looked him over with a bit of worry, he spoke lowly, "Thomas isn't gonna bother you again, it- It's all handled, Baby". You hummed appreciatively and maneuvered your body to cuddle into his side. "Thank you, Honey…" He hummed in response while staring at the pictures on the wall in front of the two of you, he leaned his head onto yours which rested on his shoulder.

You then asked,

"What happened to the knife?"

He answered while continuing to look straight ahead,

"Ah, I dropped it, don't know why I took it. I think I lost it somewhere in the stairwell, I'll go looking for it tomorrow."

Your eyes fell to his lap, the way his calloused hands lay so limply. You didn't believe him. You knew when your husband was lying. And you knew when he said that the blood was his that he was lying, after all his face looked clean and smooth aside from his 5-o'clock shadow. Didn't have a bruise, some sort of swelling, or a scratch on him.

His voice had pulled you out of the storm that your thoughts were developing as he mumbled, "I love you."

You grabbed his hand and smiled, "I love you."

As you held it you noticed a little itty bitty cut on his thumb, not any sort of cut from a fight.

"What happened to your thumb?"

Austin peered down at it and shrugged, "Cut it opening a can"

Your eyebrow quirked as you looked up at him, shoulders going limp in defeat as you nagged, "I told you to stop using knives to open the cat food, why do you think I bought that electric can opener-"

"Why can't we just have a hand-held can opener??"

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut

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futureplayboibunnie · 7 months

Text

lil Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader drabble

Warnings: NSFW, depics of violence, blood, some steamy stuff but not too much, sooo much dirtytalk.

You were many things. But you weren't naive.

That wouldn't be an issue if Miguel couldn't talk his way out of hell and right into those pearly gates. His manipulation and sweet talking were just another thing that made you hate him and attracted to him amongst many other things

He was an asshole. He was a powerful Mob Boss. He was your husband and your arch-nemesis. You both loved playing these little games that would send the other down a spiral of paranoia and obsession- it lit a fire under both of your asses. It made you meaner, sharper, stronger

Miguel told his men to take shots at you, haphazardly, making sure they all missed for the sole purpose of scaring you to make you behave and see how valuable his protection was . You weren’t scared, you were pissed and filled with rage. You blew up one of his lackey’s cars, he watched it burn in front of him, if he had gotten into the wrong black beauty of a Lamborghini, he’d be a pile of ashes.

You both poked and prodded, messed and obsessed with every step you made. It was like a Greek tragedy. You outsmarted him some days. He outsmarted you some days.

But after all of it, you were still married, still husband and wife. When he fell for you, he fell hard. You were the daughter of of one of the most renowned gangster in the country, Miguel had to pay his dues to earn his respect- and in the end it payed off. Your father blessed your marriage and that night was a dream above all dreams. The honeymoon was beautiful too, every night was filled with passionate and messy sex and every day he spent with you he fell more and more in love.

But Lord did you test his patience, it was something that you were born to do. He was angry and channelled his rage through many illegal mediums.

Yet you always let him back in.

You’ve been doing what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.

Waiting up for Miguel.

Waiting for him to come home.

He said he had something to take care of and hasn’t shown his face since. And here you were, waiting for him like a Park Avenue trophy wife. Your wine was making you more anxious than tipsy as you glared at the clock, the fireplace in front of you not warming your body from this strange fear of a man you hate and love. It was nearing 1am.

Then you heard it, the door opening and closing and the rustling of expensive shoes hitting the marble of the foyer, then a jarring clank of keys hitting the holder.

Your breath got lost in your throat, eyes widening when you saw Miguel’s figure. His white shirt was bloodied and his fists were bruised and raw. It’s not his blood, but he did have a cut on his eyebrow. You scoffed as you stood up from your seat.

But that didn’t stop you from both charging at each other, wanting to see each other up close.

“I hate you.” You said with a scowl but what was it all for when you both embraced each other seconds after.

“I believe you.” He said coldly but he knew you meant it. Your head rested on his shoulder and he could smell the shampoo you used earlier tonight. A sweet orchard, green apple. Yet your sweet scent didn’t transfer to yout personality. You didn’t like to sit still and play house.

You were an antagonizing bitch.

He was a heartless bastard.

Yet here you were.

Hating each other, yet seeking each other’s company.

“I hate you.” You repeated much firmly this time and Miguel gripped onto your cheeks and pulled your face up so he could glare at you.

“I said I believe you…I haven’t believed anyone in a long time.” He muttered, but his tone was harsh. Unamused eyes searched yours for an answer but instead he found contempt and sadness.

“You left for weeks….I hated you every second of it.” You spat out but your words couldn’t be brutal when you were this sad.

Miguel’s grip on your face softened, the pads of his fingertips tracing on the outline of your chin. “Now that I’m back…do you still hate me?” He was asking with genuine concern for some reason.

“Yes.” You whispered but your legs started to tremble as the word rolled off of your tongue. Miguel frowned indignantly and huffed out, taking his turn to pivot the conversation to him just ordering you around again.

“I don’t want you leaving the penthouse. I don’t want you outside while I deal with these bastards-“

Your choked breath cut him off. “Is that all you’re thinking about right now? I can’t fucking believe you.” You scoffed, his gall was truly outstanding, of course he had to do this right now. You weren’t purposefully trying to fan the flames to Miguel’s anger but he wanted to treat it like you were, he was already annoyed for ruining one of his best shirts with the blood of subspecies and now he has to deal with you bitching and moaning…and not in the way he liked. “You know what Miguel-“ He directly stopped your words by gripping onto your waist and neck and sitting you on the dining table. You struggled against his hold but it all proved to be fruitless.

“You’re gawking at me like an idiot right now.” You insulted but he was way too far gone now, the crimson of his eyes migrated to a deep ring of burgundy- he was already pissed and you just had to play with him the wrong way.

“You’re beautiful that’s why.” He said endearingly, like he was cooing at you but his serious expression really contrasted that.

“You’re flattering me because you wanna fuck?”

“You asked me if you staying here is all I’m thinking about right now and in fact, it’s not.” Miguel placed a palm on your chest and pushed you flat onto the table, hard. Your eyes were half lidded weapons, scrutinising his every move- and dare he think, he loves it, because he always proves you wrong.

You were his wife, his bitch, his cumdump. You both may hate each other but you always needed each other in this way.

No one else could make you cum otherwise, no one else memorised your body like he did. How couldn’t he? He loved you…once.

You like to think these outbursts are impactful and grand displays of independence but no, you’re Miguel’s lover and you’re gonna act like it.

Hmm. You always looked so pretty in this silk robe, but the fact that your nipples were peaking already under the thin fabric told him all he needed to know.

“I was thinking of you today when I was killing my competition’s men, while I got blood on my hands.” Miguel’s calloused palms splayed onto your smooth legs, feeling up and down teasingly, riding up your robe. You arched against the table already.

Shit, you didn’t mean to.

“The others said that my mind was wandering. I could see their mouths open and close but I couldn’t hear a single word come out..” He said huskily, you gasped when he ripped open your robe, revealing your naked and beautiful figure under him. The only thing that could ever get him off. He dipped his head between your legs to were your thin barely there panties were, he ran his nose over the fabric and inhaled softly. “I could smell you.”

You blinked up at him in confusion, you didn’t know what to feel. You were mad but so aroused…and in the weeks he’s been gone you hadn’t been able to pleasure yourself at all. He looked vicious and mean, your husband was ruthless and sometimes….sometimes it was so fucking arousing, you couldn’t help but squirm and struggle underneath him.

“You wanna know what I did? You wanna know who the man you married is really like when he’s not at home?” His head raised up to your ear to mumble hotly, you jolted and struggled when his hand suddenly went to your already sticky folds.

You weren’t sure if you even had a choice, so you stayed silent, your expression akin to that of vacant displeasure….but oh, were you lying. Your face was about to break.

“I shot them in the kneecaps and beat them until they were barely breathing, but would you believe the way they died was by suffocation?” He chuckled lowly, his fingers teasing your already sloppy entrance.

“F-fuck…are you talking about?” You tried to fight back the moans collecting in the back of your throat but you couldn’t help it.

“They drowned in a puddle of their own blood and I put them there.” Miguel rasped firmly in your ear, his tone and body language becoming very intimidating and…scary. “The bastard’s blood got on my fucking shoes.”

Your husband only wanted to protect what was his. His fingers plunged inside of you, feeling up and down, circling around. You whined out.

“One of them I knew, he went to my fucking highschool hermosa. I called him my friend. But the worst thing occured to me, I imagined him on top of you, my wife, the woman that loathes me so. I saw him tasting you in my head and that’s what made me kill him. You. Just because you sit up here in this untouchable palace doesn’t mesn you’re any cleaner than I am. You’re just as depraved as I am.”

His eyes were beating with a scorching red, his lips were curled into a visicious snarl and at this moment, you knew he was right and that made you want him that much more.

You were his lover.

He wanted you to act like it.

Even if that meant being exactly like he was.

Heartless.

(I deleted my other mafia Miguel fic because I wasn’t sure if i was gonna make it a bigger fic or not and I felt like if i kept it up it would’ve been confusing or something? I’m playing on the same ideas in this fic dw)

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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cherrycudy · 1 year

Text

"Don't look at me with those eyes..."

feat - scaramouche, cyno, alhaitham

NSFW - fem!reader, their wild fantasies about you, established relationship, voyeurism, dubcon, degradation, aphrodisiac use, name calling, somniphillia, size kink

Note - poorly edited, prolly lots of grammar mistakes, characters may be out of character, sorry in advance if this sucks, a part 1 of this smut headcanons series, MDNI

Part 2

Scaramouche

He has been through a lot, everyone can tell, but especially you. Scaramouche has a way with words in the bedroom, often calling you disgusting and degratory names, it's what makes him feel dominant, the stronger one.

Enjoys watching you squirm under him, squeezing around his cock when he's inside of you.

Loves calling you his little whore while he teases his tip around you clit, rubbing slow painful circles around the sensitive bud, and if you want more, show him. He'll make you beg for more

He's not shy to praise you for being a good girl, as long as you beg and plead with that irresistible face of yours, he'll deliver, after all, dogs that follow orders, must be praised

There is something Scara won't tell you that he's weak to : bondage. Something about seeing you in those tight red ropes turns him on, give him those eyes and he'll be ready to punish you for it. Will drive himself insane just thinking about it

The thought of him wrapping his hands around your neck while endlessly pounding into you, he could already feel his pants tighten

Sinful skin slapping can be heard echoing throughout the enclosed space. Scara had taken you there and then on the sofa of your shared home. He couldn't help it, you looked so pretty tonight and you gave him those daring and bold eyes with endless teasing, he thought you'd be stupid if you think he'll let you go without punishment.

A long, veiny hand wrapped around your neck, as he began to slow down his pace, seeing as tears began falling from your eyes.

"What's wrong pretty girl?"

He asks, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. Your high was near, you were so close, just why'd he had to stop now? Muffled noises can only be heard as you try to respond, but only with the hand around your neck slowly closing tighter.

"C'mon now, use your words..." He cooed into your ear, and in a desperate attempt to reach your high again, you muffle the magic word.

"p-please.."

"Hm? What was that? I can't hear you~"

"please, please, more..."

"please what doll? What do you want me to do?"

"please...fuck me..."

"now that's what I like to hear~"

Cyno

Cyno loves to experiment with things. Sometimes a bit too much. After all the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, however, this cat, has nine lives

He is willing to try everything and anything with you. From bondage, BDSM, foreplay, toys you name it. He's rather open and blunt with it too

Such a little bitch too, loves to hear you whine in pleasure as he stuffs his fat cock into your mouth, watching you clearly struggle to take him in and putting on this shit eating grin with a smart remark like "what's wrong dove? Am I too big for you?" As you gag and you choke on him, and he thinks he's funny

Loves LOVES hair pulling, both ways. Either he pulls on your hair while he takes you from behind/you blowing him off or you grip onto his hair while he presses himself deep inside you

Loves marking and leaving hickeys to show that your his property. Absolutely hates the idea of sharing, but, if he had the opportunity, he would fuck you in a crowd to show off how pretty you are. Smug bastard.

Another dirty little secret is that he's into somniphillia. Something about the thought of pleasing you while your asleep makes him hard on the spot, it won't take him long to find you when he needs you

You try, you try to muffle your moans and steady your heavy breathing as Cyno wastes no time eating your pussy. You were just peacefully taking a nap as you needed a rest from your long day. That was the plan, until your boyfriend shows up earlier than usual.

"you've had a long day sweetheart, let me help you stretch out..." He muffles I'm a deep raspy voice while he's deep in between your legs, focusing more on your pleasure than his, although, the painfully hardened cock wants him to do more than just that.

With a fistful of his hair, your moans slowly but surely get louder and louder as you reach your high. He adds a bit more spice by rubbing your painful bud with fast reoccuring circles, making you cum in his mouth which he slurps up delightfully.

"I hope you know that we're not anywhere near finished yet, love..."

Alhaitham

Dont be fooled by his appearance and personality, in fact, he may be the most risky when it comes to sex

Enjoys pushing your head into the mattress when he rails you into the bed. He explains that the mattress muffles and softens any noise you make while someone else is nearby. Half of what he says is true, but the other half is really him just wanting to feel your head under his hands

A huge fan of voyeurism, nothing gets his adrenaline pumping and excitement this fast than this. Especially since Kaveh is his roommate, he always shushs you to be quiet while he's obliterating you from behind as if the shaking of the bed wasn't loud enough already (may actually break the bed)

The thought of him painting you in his cum turns him on faster than anything. It's a beautiful sight to see in his eyes, watching your tired figure covered in his seed. He also loves watching the cum drip out of you and pushing it back in.

He undergoes a lot of stress in his life, so he usually takes it out in the bedroom, endlessly pounding into your small figure under him. He loves putting you into the full Nelson poisition, where you're holseterd up in his strong arms making you whimper and begging for more.

As long as you ask, he will always deliver

The sweet moans and grunts shared by the both of you are forced to be muffled down. You're both in Alhaitham's bedroom, unbeknownst to Kaveh, your in the room too.

"Stay quiet, my love, you don't want to disturb Kaveh now would you?" He says in a calm voice. But rather than a question, it felt more like a command. He holsters one of your arms upwards, while his strong arm pushes your small head into the mattress, muffling the audible moans from Kaveh's ears.

He shifted the two of yous position a bit, feeling his tip reach your cevrix. Tears ran down your face as his painfully huge cock was stuffed inside you in a new angle. You were closer than you were before, you can tell he was too.

"Al! Please! Faster!" You pleaded, and your wish was granted. He responded with the loud slaps of skin and a faster pounding that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You let out a loud moan, audible enough for Kaveh to hear, but the both of you didn't care now, you wanted to reach your high.

And with that, he gave you a few final blows before he released his semen inside you, slowly pulling himself out, as he watches his seed pour out of you. He slips two digits into you, watching the cum gush out even more as he fingers it back inside you, the sight turning him on once more.

"Another round, babe? I'm sure Kaveh wouldn't mind~"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #cyno smut #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #al haitham #alhaitham smut

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talaok · 11 months

Note

Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too"

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am"

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

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blacknedsoul-blog · 5 months

Text

Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven

So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.

What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.

Montresor's possible backstory

A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:

Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.

In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.

But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.

"I know this game better than anybody"

We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.

Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.

Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".

Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.

Same goal.

If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.

But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…

"So I'm not afraid to cheat."

Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.

So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.

Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.

Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.

And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).

Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.

She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).

The bad ending

These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.

The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.

But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #montresor nevermore #By the way #I don't want this to be read as me defending Montresor #Just because I believe that his attitudes follow a logic does not make them good or excusable #But that's how good antagonists are written #as a reflection of protagonists #And perhaps we should take whatever happens to him as a dark omen for Annabel and Lenore #And speaking of antagonizing Morella where the fuck are you? Your spectre is the opposite of this guy's

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cod-fishing · 5 months

Text

Thinking about Price being possessive over his boys. Not romantically or sexually (he likes to tell himself), but any time Soap starts chatting about some bear he met in a bar during leave, or Gaz mentions a girl who gave him her number, he can feel himself bristle. He tries to bury it, but it only gets worse after Las Almas, their bonds forged in far too much blood, and he struggles to bite down discouragement for any connection outside their little family.

When soap and ghost finally get together, he can’t figure out which of them he wants to throttle, but the sensation is intense nonetheless. Enough that he can’t stop himself from ordering them to his office and dressing them down so meticulously his old drill Sargent would be proud. They both look defiant. At perfect attention, military perfect in their stance, but fire in both of their eyes. It’s only when Soap, jaw clenched, demands if Price is going to transfer them that the Captain falters.

He sits heavy into his chair, and orders his boys at ease.

“I could never let go of either of you,” he finds himself gritting out through cigar smoke and choking emotions, far too unfiltered, “I just don’t want you boys to get hurt.”

He sees them soften, understanding. Not expecting a real answer, Price asks them their intentions with one another. He doesn’t want either of them to hurt the other, and while he knows they both have hearts of gold, they’ve got a lot of thorns as well. But they talk, and Soap is his usual genuine self and Ghost- Simon, really - is more honest and open than Price has seen him be ever, so…

He says okay. But keep me updated, he says. The good and the bad. They nod, and he assumes he’ll have to pry information out of them, and they move on.

Miraculously, they do keep him updated. Soap comes knocking one day, and Price asks about those reports he sent him off with and Soap says, aye, captain, got those for you, but ah…can I tell you something sweet Ghost did for me today? He’s bursting with joy when Price looks at him properly, and how can he say no to that?

Ghost, too, comes in one day, and asks to speak with the captain. Need some advice, sir. Johnny wants to take me home to his family for the holidays and I’m feeling real conflicted, he says. And they talk it out, fingers playing with the rims of their whiskey glasses. Price gets this feeling in his chest, likes he wants to reach out and trace his fingers somewhere else, but he ignores it.

It keeps happening that way, Price getting deeper and deeper in their relationship. He knows everything about the two together - almost everything. Ghost is on a solo mission one day and soap is moping, and so price pulls him into his office with the intention of getting him plastered and making him go to bed.

Instead, Johnny gets talkative. He should have known.

“God, Price, you wouldn’t believe the things he can do with his mouth. His fingers, too, lord knows where he learned it, but it’s like he took a fucking class on making me cum just from the teasing alone.”

“You’ve heard his voice captain, I mean no wonder I was creaming my pants to be with him so bad, and boy was I right. Downright evil how good it sounds during and early morning shag.”

And, even worse than all that, somehow…

“Well you know me, I like to be the best. So I told him we should start training my throat, so I can actually take his monster cock, the bastard. Did pass out the first time but we’ve been taking it slowly but surely ever since.”

And Price just…he should shut him up, but instead, he just takes it. Just lets the lad ramble about his love, like some lass back at home pinning for her deployed soldier. He hates it, he hates it, he tells himself. But he takes it for Johnny, and for Simon, and for the trust they have put in him.

And when he fists his cock in his quarters later that night, aching from being hard for so long, he can’t help but picture all those filthy things Soap told him.

Maybe, all this time, he was just jealous.

#cod mwii #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #ghoap #tf141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #codmw2 #mywriting #cod mw3 #cod mwiii #captain john price #priceghost #pricesoap #pricesoapghost

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ryomens-vixen · 1 month

Text

90s Boyfriend Toji

CW: Toji is a warning all on it's on, daddy kink, 90s Toji, mentions of drvg selling, smut, slight aftercare if you squint, hitting, etc.

Word count: 🤷🏾‍♀️ I don't know babes...

Good luck 🤞

Author note: thank you @blkkizzat for the nickname I really didn't know what to call him without being cringe af, I've never wrote for Toji so I hope this is kinda good I'm not too confident in this.

90sBF Toji who loves his son so much that he bought both of them matching gold chains, you could say they're almost like twins in a way, wherever Toji goes you'll definitely see megumi following behind him like the daddy's boy that he is.

90sBF Toji who listens to artists like Notorious B I G, Tupac, DMX, Ice Cube, Ol Dirty Bastard, Nas, Sir Mix A-lot, and Snoop Dogg.

90sBF Toji who's street name is “T-Raw” (thanks kali.) Almost all the ladies around his hood know him by that, even those he distributes Kush to, he just got it like that.

90sBF Toji who'll only kick it with you if his son likes you, he's the most important person in his life. If megumi doesn't like you then it's a wrap.

90sBF Toji who sells Kush for a living along with another side hustle of his… aka slanging dick, yes this whore of a man sells dick as well.

90sBF Toji who usually picks up single moms around the corner store from his place.

90sBF Toji who only lets the ladies that Megumi picks come over the house.

90sBF Toji who won't settle down with anyone unless his son Megumi likes you which doesn't normally last long. Once you do something Megumi doesn't like you better hope you can fix it before he tells Toji.

90sBF Toji who constantly makes Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto babysit poor Megumi every time he's hauled off to jail.

90sBF Toji who is almost always cellmates with his homeboys Shiu and Ryomen who of course nags him about whether or not he wants to see his son

90sBF Toji who's surprised by Megumi suddenly took a liking to you one day. Maybe he had mistaken you for another girl Toji use to fuck on or maybe he just thought “Woah pretty lady” and claimed you to be his new mom, but whatever his son wants, his son gets and Toji ain't arguing with that at all.

90sBF Toji who started making you, a college student babysit little Megumi who continues to call you “mama” and you have no clue as the whether it's because Toji calls you mamas or if he genuinely thinks you're his mother, either way he's cute with an annoyingly fine ass father.

90sBF Toji who's more into fuckin than he is romancing, but is willing to put forth the effort to keep you around more.

90sBF Toji who leaves all his women begging for more, surprisingly he hasn't gotten anyone pregnant by now.

90sBF Toji who constantly has to reassure you that you're the only one he's laying pipe on, he hates that you have to deal with the Plethora of heart broken obsessed women he's left behind.

90sBF Toji who fucks you like he like he's trying to get you pregnant. “Fuck- that's some good pussy, Hah- Ngh—”

“Fu— T.. To..ji! too much, too much!”

The more you begged him to slow down even just a little bit, the more he made it apparent that he wanted his dick in your stomach. God it felt like he was trying to break you- fucking you into the mattress. One hand on the back of your neck, the other on your frontal a fist FULL of hair mind you. It was intense. He wanted yet another orgasm out of you to cream and squirt all over him again, you needed this dick and he was going to give it to you all damn night if he had too.

Oh did your moans and screams turn him on even more than that ‘O’ face you were making. No wonder everyone called him “T-Raw”. “Shut the fuck up, you've been teasing me with that phat pussy all damn day- Fuuughck—” Toji said in an annoyed tone as he cocks a hand back and smacks a handprint onto your ass.

“m'sorry daddy!”

“Nah.. Don't cry now, take this dick, take it mamas.”

Oh boy did he take you down through there, eyes in the back of your head, tongue hanging, tears forming at the corners of those pretty (e/c) eyes. What was this your fifth? Sixth Orgasm? How experienced was this man, this is what you get for fuckin with a grown man like him. There he was beating your back in, creamy white ring formed at the base of his cock from both your pussy juices and his cum fusing together, blunt in mouth. Where'd he get the blunt from? Don't know, but man was his dick good no wonder he had so many women flocking after him. The way he makes you feel it in your stomach was no joke he really knew how to fuck you right.

90sBF Toji who didn't really fuck with college girl had you wrapped around his fingers… I mean his dick. It didn't matter where or when he wanted that pussy before your classes, after your classes, in your dorm room, his car, it didn't matter to him because he was a nasty old man.

90sBF Toji who had you chasing behind him wondering where he was taking that dick, YOUR dick, was he gonna start slanging dick again? You didn't know but you felt just like those older women he'd Freak then leave.

90sBF Toji who'd reassure you that he wasn't fuckin anyone else by making sweet love to you. He doesn't need you acting crazy on him. I mean who else is going to watch Megumi besides Satoru and Suguru?

90sBF Toji who gets a little annoyed when you show up blowing up on him about another woman flocking him again, he gets so annoyed that has to shut you up with cock in that tight throat of yours.

“Now tell me who the fuck do you think you're talkin to again!?”

“Mmmf- Sowry—”

“Can't talk with all that dick in your mouth can you, heh…”

You did your best trying to take it all, but couldn't make it to the base of his cock without gagging and coughing. But that was nothing he couldn't fix, with a smirk on Toji's face he held your head down on his thigh and began to fuck himself into your throat. God did this nasty bitch enjoy hearing your ‘gluck gluck gluck’ sounds coming from you. This slutty man let out a deep bellowing groan at the sensation he was feeling in his groin. It was a tight, and warm feeling making his pace grow sloppier by the minute.

“Nasty ass bitch look at you , mouth full of dick fuuughck Im gonna— gonna c.. Cum-”

Patting on his leg trying to signal him to slow down so you could breathe, if your face could visibly turn blue it would he was not letting up as he chased his own high. One strong thrust he came deep into your throat, god if he could put all that good dick in your kidneys he would.

90sBF Toji who isn't too big on aftercare, but since he's down bad for you, then he might just indulge in it, just for you, only for you.

90sBF Toji who after a good pounding throws a towel onto your body and praises you for taking him so well.

“Fuck, you take dick like a good lil bitch don't yah? What cat got yah tongue?”

“ since Megumi ain't trippin bout yah I guess you'll do for now .”

“How about you get cleaned up, come watch a movie with me.”

90sBF Toji who truly can't believe you're to put up with all his bullshit, even his homeboys think something's wrong with you.

90sBF Toji who hates bringing you over to Satoru and Suguru's place for boys night because it always end in a fight everytime Satoru thinks it's be funny to flirt with you.

90sBF Toji who hates that you have to remind him that you don't want him to end up in jail everytime they fight.

90sBF Toji who starts to grow a lil bit of a soft spot for you, so much that he starts to show you off to his old hoes.

90sBF Toji who randomly shows up to your college class to drop off YOUR son Megumi when Satoru and Suguru cancel on him, leaving all your homegirls to think you're a mother now.

Tags: @blkkizzat @littlemochabunni @honeeslust @gojos-thot-patrol-main @oreo-creampie @screampied(I was told to tag you) @halosdiary @connorsui (I was told to tag you) @biscuitsngravie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut

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dottores · 9 months

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, theta hurts reader but only a little, this was not edited sorry for mistakes 😭

notes: alrighty guys, this is officially the last chapter of the regular schedule—after this one, updates are going to be sporadic but they will at the very least be monthly. wish i could keep up the schedule but its not going to be feasible considering i start law school this upcoming wednesday </3 i'll update the masterlist to reflect the change too

SPIT IN MY FACE

“Excuse me?”

The masked man—had Gamma called him Theta?—kept a tight grip on your wrist, holding it up in front of you so he could look at it himself. He was stronger than he looked, you tried to rip your wrist out of his hold but failed. His nails dug into your skin in response to the attempt, drawing blood. You grimaced as you watched a thin line of red seep down your forearm.

“You heard me.” Theta’s smile didn’t budge as his other hand came up to grab your chin, turning your head away from where Kappa was still buried in the crook of your neck to face him. “Was he trying to keep you hidden away or were you trying to hide from us?”

He wasn’t looking at your hand. He was looking at your finger or more specifically… where your thread was hanging from it, leading off somewhere to the left of you wherever Dottore was. You remembered how Kappa had looked down at your hand curiously before deciding to come over to you, the way he was so at ease with you for no reason. And Gamma. Gamma had looked at your hand before he started panicking and ran off.

Could they… see it?

“Hm?” Theta’s nails dug into your cheeks now, just like how he had with the aristocrat—you didn’t even know where they went, if they had taken the opportunity to flee or if he had done something to immobilize them, you couldn’t turn your head to check. You grimaced as you felt his nails break skin again. “Answer me.”

How was that possible?

You could all but taste the poison in his words, the impatience and the frustration. You were at a loss as to how to proceed—your arms were tied up with Kappa, one of your hands was stuck in his and he was forcing you to look at him, and that unhinged look in his red eyes was causing your brain to fog with fear.

Think. You had to think. You had to free your wrist from his hand. You had to get back to your room, or to Pantalone’s.

Where was Pantalone? Livid, you realized that the man was probably still listening in on the show, not getting involved, leaving you to deal with this unstable bastard.

Think. What did he want to hear? What would make him settle down at least enough to loosen his grip on you?

But how the hell were you supposed to know what he wanted you to hear? Even with just the way he spat out those two questions, you knew both answers were wrong and would set him off more. But you had to say something, the longer you went without answering his question, the more his eyes flamed with impatience—you didn’t want to know what would happen when that thin thread of patience snapped.

“I came here, didn’t I?” you asked quietly. You tried to relax your shoulders and upper body, exuding a type of faux-comfort with the man. “I came looking for you.”

Theta’s red eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching you carefully—his grip did not waver, much to your distress.

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said coldly, speaking the one truth you’d hoped he wouldn’t. His grip on your wrist tightened and his nails dug deeper into your cheeks. “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” you told him, grimacing as his nail dragged against your skin. Kappa shifted in your arms, bristling, you couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. “You can see the thread, no? I may not fully understand how you can see it but the fact that you can speaks enough.”

Theta hesitated, the corner of his lip dipping in doubt as he tried to decide whether or not he thought you were lying. You watched with bated breath, tongue kissing the inside of your teeth, as a flurry of emotions rushed through his eyes ranging from anger to hesitancy and hope. Then his eyes hardened, decision made, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Liar.”

Again, his grip tightened but it was painful now and your body begged you to pull away or do something but he was stronger than you. He forced you closer to him, turning you so that if Kappa wasn’t between you, you would’ve been chest-to-chest with him. You wondered if you should let him go, let him flee somewhere safe, but he was still clutching your shirt.

Theta leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your cheek and the cool ceramic of his mask nudging against your skin where his nose would have been. You grit your teeth together as you felt something warm and wet press against the skin of your cheek where his nails had broken through, lapping at the blood.

Your face felt hot, anger and humiliation curdling your blood as Theta let out a puff of amused laughter against your skin.

“You taste like a liar too,” Theta crooned. “Lambda thinks you’re a fake sent to distract us. Are you a fake, little liar?”

Us. He kept saying us but you don’t know what that meant or how it was possible—they could see the thread but as far as you could tell, they did not have a connecting one. You had never seen anything like that before, nor had you ever read about anything like that.

You thought you should say something but your mind was reeling as you tried to piece together the puzzle and figure out what was going on.

But before you could do or say anything, Kappa squirmed and twisted in your arms, hanging over you to whack his small fist hard against Theta’s mask—with more strength than you expected from the boy.

Theta grunted stumbling back—he wasn’t hurt but the force of Kappa’s swing had partially knocked his mask off, revealing thick scars similar to the ones you had seen on Gamma. He fumbled trying to straighten out the mask and as he did, you whirled around to rush to your room.

You didn’t get far.

Not because of Theta, who was cursing as he fastened the mask back on, but because you slammed right into someone else’s chest, broad and dressed in dark clothes. You glanced up as a pair of gloved hands grabbed your waist, irritation rising at Pantalone’s thin, close-eyed smile. You wondered if you had passed or failed whatever test he expected from this situation.

The pads of his fingers pressed into your waist as he shifted you over to the side and behind him, leveling his attention on Theta as the man straightened back, narrowed eyes still trained on you instead of the Harbinger.

“Theta.” Venom dripped from Pantalone’s words as he spoke his name. “I suggest you make your way back to the Doctor’s labs instead of bothering my guest.”

“Your?” Theta spat out, taking a step forward. His eyes were wild again now, far gone from the hardened look he had directed toward you after he made his decision. You stiffened, watching as Pantalone lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows, challenging Theta. “She is not your anything, banker. Go back to counting your coins and sucking noble cock to get further in the world, stay out of our business.”

Pantalone, to his credit, did not look bothered by the dig—the only sign of anger was the way his lip twitched before he spoke: “Take it up with your maker, fraud. You have no authority here, you are not the Doctor.”

“I am-”

Sharp and loud, Theta’s voice rang up and down the hall as he took two long steps forward as if to attack Pantalone but the Harbinger only let out a huff of amusement as he cut Theta off mid-shout.

“I am not one of the subordinates who you can fool into believing you are him. You are a rabid dog running a thin line between life and death. It is only a matter of time before you’re put down, I again suggest you leave before I make that day come sooner.”

You thought that you shouldn’t feel anything for the man standing a few paces away but something deep in you clenched when Theta drew back as if he’d been physically slapped, red eyes wide with shock. The feeling did not last long though because as quick as the hurt appeared, it was gone, twisting into something far more sinister as a wide smile spread across his lips, teeth bared much like the rabid dog Pantalone claimed him to be.

“You think you can kill me?”

Something manic stained his words, deranged and challenging as if he meant for Pantalone to back his words right then and there. Theta did not have a vision, not one that you could see or feel at least, but you knew in your bones that he was far, far more dangerous than he looked—he was strong and he moved faster than any visionless human you’d ever seen. Briefly, you wondered if he even was hu-

Pantalone stepped forward and the air around the four of you crackled with an energy that made your skin crawl. You let out a shaky breath, eyes widening as you took a step away from the man, unconsciously trying to get away from the source of the energy, an unnatural and uncomfortable feeling spreading through you.

What is that?

It felt sick. Corrupted. The air tasted stale and rotted as it seeped down the halls like poison. Your vision was reacting in response to it, the purity of the hydro energy trying to repel the new, malefic energy but it was curling all around you, trying to find chinks in the thin shield your vision was providing you from the decay.

You had to get away from it but your feet were rooted to the ground, watching the scene play out before you. Neither Theta nor Pantalone looked bothered by the energy—in fact, Theta looked thrilled, eyes alight as his impossibly wide smile widened even more, a giggle slipping from his lips as he raised his hand as if to summon something, but before he could snap his fingers, his eyes dulled and his knees hit the ground hard. Almost like he had been turned off, just like that.

What-

At once, the energy around Pantalone dissipated and you could move, confusion riddling your mind as you tried to figure out what happened to Theta and what that disgusting energy was. You took a step forward, eyes wide and trained on Theta first—was that Pantalone’s doing? But as you turned to look at him, your gaze caught sight of a figure down the hall.

Dottore.

You were bleeding.

Dottore could feel his cheeks stinging but he hadn’t been sure what it was until he got to the hall in Pantalone’s wing where Gamma had left you. Theta was on the ground, empty-eyed and still, turned off courtesy of Dottore, and Pantalone was standing to the side of you, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation.

But you were looking at him, and only him, and he could only focus on you, eyes tracing the blood as it dripped down your cheeks to your neck, dribbling down your skin. With creased brows and lips pressed together tightly, he couldn’t tell if the look you were directing toward him was suspicion or anger or something else entirely. The only thing he could feel from you was what he assumed were the remnants of the confrontation with Theta: fear, anxiety, skepticism, confusion, disgust.

Disgust, was that directed toward him or Theta or both of them? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered how much Theta had told you, and he wondered how much you’d been able to piece together from what he had. Dottore had been hoping to keep the existence of the segments a secret from you.

The last thing he wanted to have to do was get into depth about what they were because if he knew you even half as well as he thought he did, he knew it would turn into an interrogation of all that he’d been up to with his research. Even when you were young, when the third phase of the bond had first manifested, he had to be careful about what he was thinking about so that it wasn’t transcribed to you. Countless times he received words from you that could have only been originally given by him: the names of the segments, residue, deactivate, and Dottore knew that you must be taking every word he sent you to relentlessly research into them.

“Doctor,” Pantalone finally drawled as Dottore came to a stop in front of them, forcing his attention away from you just for a second. “It’s about time that you’ve leashed your mad dog, I’m quite tired of dealing with him.”

Dottore didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he focused his attention back onto you—the only apparent wounds were the deep scratch marks on your cheek and wrist, painful but mostly superficial. It would heal in a few days at most, he would pass along an ointment to Pantalone so he could give it to you to speed along the healing process.

The issue for Dottore laid in the boy tucked neatly in your arms, hiding his face against your skin.

The Kappa segment.

Dottore exhaled. That would be trouble trying to handle. The Kappa segment was skittish and nervous. He usually only stuck around Epsilon, Iota or Gamma, he even tried to avoid the other segments if he could. Dottore had a feeling that it was because they reminded him of their father but he couldn’t be sure.

Either way, he had never latched onto someone like this before and Dottore had a feeling it would be an issue trying to get him away from you. He didn’t like shutting down the younger segments—or any of the segments for that matter because it tended to mess with their wiring—but he thought he might have to in order to get the kid back to the estate without alerting the entire palace to your presence and relationship to him.

His eyes lingered on you, only for a few more moments, watching the way you held Kappa close, arms wrapped around him tightly as if to shield him from danger. Kappa seemed like he was on the verge of dozing off, his shoulders rising and falling steadily—he’d never seen him so comfortable with someone that wasn’t Epsilon before. Something unfamiliar tightened his chest. Longing? Desire? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

He looked away sharply, finally turning his attention to Pantalone.

“Regrator, don’t act as if you spend all of your free time reluctantly handling my segments. You are usually asking for them, in fact,” Dottore said dryly. He barely spared you another look as he said: “I’ll handle this. Go back to your room and rest.”

Your face twisted and Dottore bit back a sigh, realizing that round three of his war of words with you was about to begin.

“I am not a child,” you shot back, voice tight. “You can’t just send me to my room. I have questions and you will give me answers now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Dottore had a feeling that you were not just talking about the past few hours. You were talking about the decade he had spent ignoring your existence. Unfortunately for you, he had no interest in answering your questions, not now or ever.

He turned his attention back to Pantalone, ignoring the furious look that spread across your face at being blatantly ignored. Luckily—or unluckily, time would tell—Epsilon stepped in. He watched as your brows dipped in suspicion, looking between Epsilon and Dottore warily. If you hadn’t put together something was very, very wrong with the existence of Kappa, Gamma and Theta already, he had a feeling that Epsilon’s appearance just sealed it.

Dottore turned away as Epsilon took your hand in his to press his lips to your knuckles before he gently led you in the direction of the door on the left. Gamma and Iota followed behind, the latter far more excited than the former. Gamma cast one last pleading look in Dottore’s direction just as Iota slammed the door shut behind them.

Dottore, as he turned his attention to Theta’s still body, thought this might just be the worst case scenario. All three of the children. Theta. Epsilon. The last segments Dottore wanted meeting you all somehow managed to do just that within hours of you being in Zapolyarny. This would spread to all of the rest of the segments in no time and then he would have Zeta demanding to see proof of your existence and Rho lurking about curious; he’d have Delta bashing down the palace door to get Iota away from you, convinced by Lambda that you were only here to deceive them. And he’d have Lambda doing god knows what to try to remove your existence from their lives so they could continue their research without distraction.

He needed a plan of action and he needed it fast but first, he had to deal with this.

“What happened?”

“Two aristocrats came up looking for the Kappa segment,” Pantalone said off-handedly. “Your soulmate interfered.”

“Interfered?” Dottore demanded. “What was she doing wandering around?”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “Was I meant to lock her in her room?”

Dottore looked at him coldly, silently telling him yes, he should have. They could not afford to have any of their subordinates run into you, much less any of the Harbingers and he knew that some of them would be searching for you. He remembered Columbina’s cryptic comment about you a few months ago, Sandrone’s fury at your presence in Snezhnaya, Arlecchino’s odd interest in you—and if Arlecchino was interested, it was only a matter of time before she sent her attack dog after you to find out whatever she wanted to know. Keeping you isolated from the rest of the Fatui was paramount.

“What happened with Theta?” Dottore asked after Pantalone let out an exaggerated sigh of agreement.

“What always happens with Theta,” Pantalone said dismissively. “He gets set off and lashes out. Was going on about her faking the bond, apparently Lambda is going around convincing them she’s lying.”

Of course, Dottore thought bitterly. He knew that Lambda had been talking to Zeta, Delta and Rho but he thought the segment knew better than to get Theta wound up about this.

He took a deep breath, taking a step away to calm himself down. Well, that made that decision: the first thing he had to do was talk to Lambda, he couldn’t have him turning the segments against you, least of all Theta, who was very liable to attack those that he thinks did him wrong. After that, he would figure out what to do with the rest of the segments because in stopping Lambda, he would have to admit to them all that you were his soulmate, that this was all real.

That this was all real.

Dottore shut his eyes briefly, unconsciously looking in the direction of where you, Epsilon and the kids had disappeared behind the dark door that led to your room. His body itched to follow them in there—the bond in work, surely, but he could feel it was getting stronger. It was stronger than it was while he had been dancing with you, and even stronger than it had been while talking to you outside of the washroom. He should just grab Theta and drag him back down to his lab, leaving Epsilon to deal with your interrogation, but his feet weren’t cooperating.

“You should speak to her,” Pantalone said as he turned to go back to his own room. “If you’re going to have me confine her to this wretched place, you should at the very least, explain to her why… lest you have a very unhappy soulmate on your hands. I doubt that would be conducive to productivity.”

Dottore hummed dismissively, glancing back at the door once. He supposed should, he didn’t want to deal with your turbulent emotions, especially when he was going to be dealing with the segments.

Distantly, a part of him wondered if he was just using that as a logical excuse to give in to the pull of the bond.

“And Doctor, do get me that prototype by the morning as promised.”

You felt overwhelmed. The older boy, Gamma, was sitting in the corner of your room, knees tucked to his chest as he watched you with the younger two. Kappa was fast asleep now, tiny arms slung around your neck as he slept—you had tried to place him down on your bed but whenever you tried to pull him away from you, his arms tightened and he started stirring awake. The other one, you didn’t know his name yet, was kneeling on the floor next to the bed where you were sitting, big red eyes peeked above the comforter, watching you with varying degrees of suspicion and distrust and longing.

He had the same scar on the upper half of his face that Gamma did, you couldn’t help but notice, down to the burn patterns and wrinkles. And they were identical, if Gamma was a few years younger, he’d be the spitting image of the kid. It was impossible. Not even brothers can be so similar as to be identical down to the wrinkles and patterns in scars.

So, what were they?

You had to have been onto something when you thought it was some sort of experiment—Kappa was too young to have been born eight years ago, Gamma and the new kid were too similar in appearances, if you saw correctly when Kappa partially knocked off the mask even Theta seemed to have some scars on his face, and Theta and Kappa both showed a strength that did not reflect in their body.

A throat being cleared knocked you out of your thoughts, your eyes drew up from the kids to where the man was standing near the door. He gave you a small, apologetic smile as his eyes met yours—red and gentle.

Who was this?

You watched the man with thinly veiled suspicion. He looked just like Dottore, silvery blue hair styled the same way and even wearing a similar dark button-up that he did.

Except unlike Dottore, he was not wearing a mask.

His skin was smooth compared to the scars of the children and instead of the ever-present frown of Dottore, the corner of his lips were turned up. You had grown used to the cold aloofness of your soulmate over the years, it unnerved you how someone could look so much like him and yet feel entirely different.

You raised your chin as Epsilon came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, keeping your expression stony, studying him to try to figure out what he wanted from you.

“Peace,” he murmured. “I’d just like to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

He had a white handkerchief between his fingers and you were acutely aware of the blood still dripping down your cheeks and arm. He raised his eyebrows, but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to budge, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer them if you’d like.”

Of course you had questions, but could you trust him to answer them?

He didn’t appear as if he was trying to deceive you, his eyes were warm and his lips were lax, he had none of that tightness that Dottore usually had. Was he faking it? Or was he wanting to help you? You couldn’t tell, his demeanor was throwing you off.

“You’re really her?” a new, young voice said softly, voice hesitant but tinged with the slightest bit of hope that had your heart aching. You looked back toward the kid as he peered up at you through thick curls of hair cautiously. “Our soulmate?”

Our.

Your ears rang, distantly watching as the boy reached out for your hand, thin fingers playing with yours until he reached the one your thread was looped around. From the corner of your eye, you looked at the older man, who was watching you with a knowing expression.

Our.

How was that possible? He could clearly see your thread, trying to play with it and tug at it in the same way you used to as a child, but he had no connecting one, like the Doctor did. Did that make you his soulmate but he was not yours? Was there such a thing as unrequited soulmates? But you didn’t think it was that simple, there was a critical piece of information you were still missing.

But the kid was looking at you again, anxiously awaiting your response, and you didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if you weren’t sure what was going on, he could undeniably see your thread.

“Yes,” you finally said, watching as he lit up, red eyes pooling with tears and lips trembling as he flung himself forward, burying his face into your lap. He jostled Kappa, who kicked his foot out instinctively, but the kid was unbothered.

“I knew you were real.” His voice was muffled into the cloths of your dress. “Everyone said you weren’t but I knew you were.”

Your throat tightened and your now free hand twitched from where it was laying on the comforter of your bed, coming up to pat his head.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to focus on the man still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an indecipherable expression.

“I’ve never seen them take to someone like this before,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s just further proof that you are who you claim to be. Some of the others thought it might be a ploy.”

Others, you wondered distantly but you were more focused on the last thing he said, face twisting.

“I would not fake a soul bond,” you said tightly, mind turning to your stepfather and your mother, your dead father and your destroyed family.

“I insulted you,” he realized. “My apologies, it was not my intention. I was not one of the ones that thought that way but I figured it was best for you to know and prepare, some of them might doubt you when they meet you.”

“How many of you are there?” you asked, but the more important question that you just couldn’t push out was what are you?

“Excluding the Doctor, there are nine of us. I’m called Epsilon. Kappa is the youngest, then Iota, who is on your lap, and then Gamma, who’s sitting over there,” he explained.

You looked back over to where Gamma was sitting. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out the window into the dark night… or maybe he was. Amused, you realized that he was still watching you carefully through the reflection of the window. As soon as he realized that you noticed what he was doing, he turned his head away quickly.

“He’ll warm up,” Epsilon said quietly. You looked back toward him, watching as his lips turned up, red eyes glittering, as if sharing some secret with you. “He’s nervous.”

You couldn’t help the way you let out a puff of amusement, studying Gamma and the way he was digging his nails into the palm of his hand and tapping his foot against the wood of the window nook incessantly.

“I don’t… really understand all of this,” you finally admitted, relaxing a bit with Epsilon. You let yourself lean back against the large, decorative pillows set up on the bed, watching the man that looked eerily similar to Dottore, wondering if this was what he looked like beneath the mask as well.

“This is new for all of us too,” Epsilon told you, “so I can’t really explain to you what all of the bonds might be or mean… but I’m sure that is not what you’re asking right now, is it?”

“Not entirely, at least. First I’d like to understand…”

What you are. What they are. Why you can see the thread and why the children think that I’m their soulmate too.

“Well, I’ll do my best at explaining then. You deserve that much at least.”

The heavy weight on your chest lifted, if only a little. You thought that this might be the first time in weeks, months, that someone was actually giving you answers. Your father passed and left you with only questions, the masked person from the inn gave you even more questions and not a single answer, and now even Dottore refused to answer your questions, he just sent you away for Pantalone to deal with.

“Thanks,” you said softly, eyes meeting his again.

Epsilon gave you a small smile, lips parting to speak but before he could say anything, the door to your room opened again. Your gaze shot up, eyes falling upon a familiar masked figure standing in the frame, lips pressed together tightly.

“Epsilon,” Dottore said coldly. “Bring Theta down to the lab.”

Epsilon sighed heavily, shooting you an apologetic look before rising to his feet. “Another time,” he offered, and you nodded, disappointed, ignoring how Dottore’s lips turned downward.

Epsilon made his way out of the room, slipping past Dottore, and Gamma threw himself off the nook and scampered after Epsilon, fleeing the room without another look toward you.

The door slam shut behind them, an eerie silence sweeping over the room as he left you with Dottore.

Dottore’s already sour mood worsened when Epsilon flung him a triumphant look as soon as his back was turned to you. He wondered what he said to you in those few minutes he was in here alone with you but for some reason, he doubted that you would tell him and he by no means wanted to add more fuel to the fire by appearing interested in you. Narrowed eyes followed Epsilon as he left the room, shutting the door harshly behind him and the Gamma segment so he could speak to you without unwelcome ears listening in.

The Kappa and Iota segments made no move to leave—one being fast asleep and the other now watching Dottore suspiciously, shifting behind you to peek over your shoulder at him. Dottore could see the boy clutching something in his hand, knuckles white around the object and arms tensed as if ready to throw it. Dottore raised his eyebrows, albeit knowing neither of you could see the action anyway.

He ignored Iota and drew closer to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the mattress that Epsilon had been sitting on as he observed you. You looked exhausted—your eyes looked heavy and tired, they didn’t have the same spark in them that they had earlier in the night, and the blood from the scratch marks on your was smeared messily, staining your skin and dress.

Irritated, Dottore wondered why Epsilon hadn’t cleaned it up, pulling out a cloth from his jacket pocket and shifting a little closer. He grabbed your arm first, ignoring that tingling sensation as it reappeared as soon as the pads of his fingers were pressed against your bare skin, and especially ignoring the red thread tied around your finger.

He could feel your eyes on him as he carefully wiped away the blood, distantly noting that Iota had shimmied out from behind you and was darting to the opposite side of the room.

“He will not bother you again,” Dottore finally said, sparing a look to the side as Iota approached from the side, this time with bandages. He eyed the boy curiously, wondering if this room was one of the places he fled to those rare times he was stuck in the palace and got overwhelmed by the amount of people. Iota turned his head away pointedly and Dottore just shook his head, taking the bandages and wrapping them neatly around your wrist and forearm.

You didn’t respond to him and Dottore glanced up at you, waiting for you to say something. You looked away, Dottore bit back an irritated sigh, tying off the bandage and moving a bit closer to look at your face.

“Thought they just called you a doctor for the irony,” you snipped half-heartedly, keeping your eyes averted as his fingers grabbed your jaw, turning your head to the side to see just how deep Theta had cut you.

Dottore let out an amused puff of air. “They do,” he drawled, “but I’m usually presented as one to acquire more willing test subjects. I must at least know the basics.”

You gave him a withering look from the corner of your eye, bottom lip pushed out. He was grateful for his mask hiding the way his gaze lingered on it, focusing back on the scratch marks. They weren’t too deep but he didn’t have an ointment with him to spread over them, so instead he just pressed the handkerchief to the skin, cleaning up the blood.

“What are they?” you asked, eyes steeled for an argument.

Dottore sighed heavily, considering briefly trying to avoid the subject but you did not seem keen on letting this slide and he was not in the mood for an argument. He wanted to get this done and get out of your room as soon as possible, even if his body was betraying him by allowing his fingers to linger on your cheek as he wiped away the blood.

“They are me.”

Concise and to the point, as he always was, Dottore waited for the explosion of questions and demands to come from you but you only stared at him, studying him. Again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because he did not like the way he felt beneath your gaze.

“How?” you finally questioned.

“Experimentation,” Dottore said dryly, your eyes narrowed as if that was an obvious answer. His lip unconsciously pulled up into a smirk. “I was able to isolate and extract my consciousness at specific periods of my life after years of study into-”

“Irminsul,” you finished for him, voice little over a breath and eyes darting down to your forearm.

Dottore’s lips pressed into a thin line, watching you carefully—he did not like that, or did he? A part of him was impressed that you’d managed to put it together so easily just from the little he said and the words that had been transcribed to you through the bond. But on the same note, he thought that the fact that the bond had given you enough words to so easily string together how he had gone about his research was unnerving.

Not for the first time since the bond appeared, Dottore felt distinctly violated.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Study into Irminsul. All I had to do was create vessels for the consciousnesses after extracting them.”

“And they are… you?”

You were looking at Kappa with a different expression now, Dottore couldn’t figure out what it was but it made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. There was a reason why he made sure to keep all of the younger segments far, far away from people. Dottore let his hand drop back to his lap, folding the handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket.

“Yes.” His voice came out colder and sharper, and you caught the change in tone, looking up at him quickly with furrowed brows. “I’ll be taking them back to the labs.”

You didn’t look pleased, frowning as you looked down at Kappa, who was still fast asleep. Behind Dottore, Iota let out a noise of protest but Dottore only had to turn his head to the side to stop the boy from speaking his complaint out loud.

“So what? You’re just going to leave again?” you asked harshly.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” he quipped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. “That you and the younger segments and I were just going to be one happy family?”

To your credit, you didn’t look too perturbed by the harsh words but he knew it affected you, if the way your grip tightened on Kappa had anything to say about it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not-”

“You’ll find that I can do whatever I want,” Dottore corrected, rising to his feet.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting Kappa down to lay on the bed next to you as you moved forward, fingers wrapping around his wrist to hold him in place. A commendable effort, but all it would take was one quick snap of his wrist to free it from your hold…

But he did not snap away his wrist. As easy as it would have been, instead he just stood there, staring down at you, waiting for you to say whatever you wanted to say. He tensed as if to pull away but his body didn’t cooperate—he blamed it on the bond but he wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I’m not done,” you said. “I have more questions.”

“Another time,” he dismissed, finally forcing himself to pull his wrist back. Again, he felt a strange void as soon as the pressure of your fingers was removed from him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Wasted?

“Wasted?” you echoed his very thought, scoffing loudly before shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t really care. What I do care about is knowing what that energy was around Pantalone—what was that?”

Dottore looked at her steadily from beneath his mask. “That is none of your business,” he said coolly. “Do not go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong lest you find yourself a guest here forever.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of murderous. “As if I won’t be already,” you spat, rising to your feet to take a few steps closer to him after he moved away. Dottore remained rooted in place, looking down at you. “I will not be kept here like a caged animal.”

“Then maybe you should not act like one.”

“Excuse me?” Dottore’s words held no weight, but he did very much enjoy goading reactions out of you, watching as your face twisted in fury at the insult. “I came here for a reason, Doctor, and that reason was not to be imprisoned by you. I have information I need to find and one way or another, I will acquire it. You can either-”

“You will do as I say so long as you’re in this palace,” Dottore said, cutting you off by pinching your cheeks between his fingers and tilting your face up to look at him. “Just because we have a bond forced on us by Celestia does not make you untouchable, control that tongue of yours before it lashes at the wrong person. Once I get the information I want, I will consider getting you what you want. Then, we will never have to see each other again. Until then, you have reaped what you sowed and it is no one’s fault but your own that you were not adequately prepared for the consequences of your actions, do you understand?”

Just for a second, he watched as a helpless expression spread across your face, eyes glassy and lips pressed together tight as you stared up at him. His tongue itched to say something else but no words formed on it before you snapped your face out of his hold, looking away.

“Get out.”

A part of him wanted to refuse just to be spiteful—was it spite? Or was it something else, that heavy feeling weighing at his chest? That was a question he was not ready to answer, so instead, he smiled thinly:

“Gladly.”

i promise they’re going to start warming up to each other soon more than just in their internal narration <.< soon as in very soon wait til you see the scene i have planned

RBS APPRECIATED!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

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