#tw baby trapping

[on-leatheredwings]

Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid. 

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody. 

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk. 

… Therapist’s orders. 

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates. 

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman. 

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere. 

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver. 

You sigh. 

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal. 

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed. 

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ. 

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly. 

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”  

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–” 

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…” 

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch. 

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.” 

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.” 

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice. 

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say. 

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare. 

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking? 

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right. 

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react. 

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths. 

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out. 

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain. 

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong– 

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.” 

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do. 

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable. 

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore. 

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #mine #tw baby trapping #tw noncon

[milf-murdock]

The Scare: Part II

A/N: Y'all this is filthyyyyyyy. Absolutely fucking disgusting and I cannot get enough of it omg. I think I blacked out while writing this.

Check out Part 1 here

Warnings: Dark!Simon AU, breeding kink, pregnancy mentions, baby trapping, creepy behavior, red flags (dreamy), and if there's anything else I need to tag just let me know!

Putting the read more right at top because babes we are just jumping right into it ;,)

Simon is legendary when it comes to details. Nothing gets past this man. Especially, when he’s on a mission. And right now? Simon was a man on a mission. 

“Fuck babe,” he grunted as he pressed your legs even farther back, your knees nearly to your ears. “So fuckin’ tight.” His thrusts were deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. 

You were beyond response. Not only had he made you come on his fingers while he sucked on that pretty little clit, but he’d made sure to put a couple pillows underneath you, propping up your hips for him, opening yourself to a new angle that had you seeing fucking stars. All you could do was moan and gasp as Simon gripped your hips and drove his cock into you at a relentless pace. 

He had seen this position online, when he was conducting his late-night research on a private, completely locked-down browser, searching up the best ways to get you pregnant. 

___

He knew that he needed to lock you down, to ensure that there was no way you were going anywhere. He wanted you all to himself. And he wanted everyone to know just who you fucking belonged to. 

You’d be the prettiest mum, Simon thought to himself as he scrolled through the online articles, absentmindedly stroking his cock. You were fast asleep in the next room, and he was so thankful. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, round with his baby, heavy breasts, your supple curves growing even more. His fist moved faster, sliding over his thick cock, pulling back the skin to tease the bright red head. If he got you pregnant now, you’d be due just at the end of summer. The thought of you in one of your gorgeous sundresses, heavily and adorably pregnant with his baby, was enough to send him over the edge, hips rutting up into his hand. He tried to conceal his groan as the hot spurts of come landed on his bare chest. 

___

Simon is phenomenal when it comes to details. Which is how he has your cycle fucking memorized. Which is why he has you spread on your bed, legs in the air, pounding into you with everything he has. 

He knows this is your ovulation window. Sure, he had made sure to fill you up yesterday, and he’ll make damn sure to fill you up tomorrow, too, just to be safe. But today? Today was when you were most fertile. He knows, because he’s been secretly tracking your ovulation, taking your temperature while you sleep to make the most accurate prediction. He had been so disappointed to see that negative test last month. His hopes had been so high when he saw that you were late. Only to be dashed the next morning when your period had started. He coddled you through it, of course, bringing you medicine, hot tea, heating pad, endless snuggles. But the whole time, he was planning how this month would be different. 

He’d knock you up if it was the last thing he fucking did. 

___

“Such a good girl, taking my fuckin’ cock,” Simon groaned, pulling back his hips, all the way so just the tip rested inside you. 

“I can’t—it’s too,” you sputter, absolutely cock drunk. 

“Ah, but you can, love,” Simon smirked to himself as he thrusted deep into your weeping pussy, all the way to the hilt. He reveled in the way you screamed in pleasure. He continued the pattern: pulling out, thrusting in, picking up the pace. His heavy balls bounced off your ass as his pace picked up. You were getting close, he could tell, your body starting to stiffen, your cries getting louder. He used his broad hands to grab your hips and hold you steady as he hammered into you, relentless in his pursuit. 

“Gonna come for me, dove?” He teased, his voice deep and earnest, filled with lust. He needed you to finish. He’d read an old wives tale saying the seed was more likely to take root when the mother finishes. The thought alone nearly had Simon coming right then and there. Your shaky voice brought him back to reality. “Yes, uh huh, don’t forget—“ you screamed as he thrusted in you particularly hard. “Pull out,” you mumbled, hazy in the oncoming fog of your orgasm. “Fuck Simon, fuck, fuck FUCK,” you screamed as your orgasm overtook you.

Simon watched as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back arched off the gentle stack of pillows, pushing your breasts forward. Simon couldn’t help the mental image that popped into his head: you, swollen with his child, those same breasts full of milk, ready to nourish your child, his child. Everyone would know how he had pleased you, claimed you, made you his. 

Simon’s hips stuttered as he came, a resounding growl of pleasure escaping his lips as he slammed into your cunt a final time. His seed flooded your cervix, filling you with a warmth you were too blissed out to recognize. Ropes and ropes of his spend filled you,  his cock twitching inside you, as Simon pressed his face against your chest, breathing heavily. 

“Fuckin hell, love,” he moaned. “Gonna be the fucking death of me.” 

He slid his softening cock out of you, careful to use his fingers to scoop any escaping seed back into your aching cunt. He silently tutted to himself. We can’t be having that, now can we? 

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #dark!simon riley x reader #dark!Simon Riley #tw pregnancy mention #tw baby trapping

[vampyrsm]

An Ode to Lost Love.

✞ — Synopsis: What was that quote about another's silence? “Be leery of silence. It doesn't mean you won the argument. Often, people are just busy reloading their guns.” Right. You should’ve seen this coming, really, it was a little stupid of you to believe he just forgot all about you.

✞ — Warnings: MDNI. Dark content, implied stockholm syndrome, mentions of murder, the reader receives death threats, yandere behaviour, violence, blood, injuries, asphyxiation, the reader is knocked unconscious, concussion, heavy manipulation, preying on the reader, dumbification, objectification, gaslighting, non-con, dubcon (but hardly, it's a very grey area), disassociation, minimal/no prep vaginal sex, burning/marking in detail, reader vomits once due to injuries, creampie, breeding kink, baby trapping, Dabi flipflops a lot between emotions.

✞ — Word Count: 7k

✞ — Notes: This is a Dabi x female!Reader. This is my first real dark content fic. If this is not your cup of tea, please do not interact. Please take care with the warnings, it's very much a dead dove: do not eat. Posted over on AO3 too for ease of reading. I definitely do not condone anything that has been written here, I'm also not romanticising noncon or any of the warnings. Thank you for taking the time to read it, remember to take care and enjoy :)

Living in the aftermath of someone's destruction was just as you would expect; chaotic, and lonesome. You had signed up for this all those years ago but you hadn’t expected it to turn out quite like this. You were never going to get used to the stares when someone recognised you in the store, or the smashed windows of the local youth who wanted to shame someone who was tricked with the promise of something more. 

Though you didn’t feel ashamed for what you had done, nor did you regret it – for the most part, anyway. Sure you had regretted keeping silent when you saw a man lose his life because of a simple mistake, you should’ve left when you realised that you were being lied to. That the man you had fallen in love with was not a misunderstood young man but rather a cruel and deceiving criminal. 

The man in question? Touya Todoroki – also most commonly known as Dabi.

You hated this part of town, it was… less than decent. Run down and filled with low-life criminals who were on the run or simply just wanted to live a somewhat normal life. The walls of the buildings you pass by are decaying, unrepaired from when heroes did decide to pay a visit to the neglected parts of the cities and towns they were supposed to serve and protect. 

What a fucking lie.

It’s not that you hated hero society, per se, but you also knew how disgusting some of the heroes still were. After everything Touya went through after he poured his heart out to you and the rest of the world – nothing fucking changed. Of course, it had pissed you off when they exhausted him to the point of near death before carting him off to Tartarus, they were sweeping him under the rug to be forgotten about. You attempted to reach out to the other members of the liberation but none of them wanted anything to do with you, you weren’t a villain. You were just attached to one.

The stairs up to your rundown apartment were practically crumbling with each step, you made sure to avoid the 8th step that was shattered entirely. When you first moved here, you thought it would only be for a short amount of time, just somewhere to lay low to avoid the probing questions of the heroes who wondered if you were compliant in any of Touya’s crimes. But the two-year timeframe you gave yourself quickly turned to three, then five, and now here you were eight years later. The apartment building looked the same as when you first moved in, the mysterious stain on the carpet leading to your apartment had never been removed and you’re pretty sure the world will end before it’s ever cleaned.

Your door opened with a creak, the old hinges were hanging on for dear life and you never worked up the nerve to ask the guy who let you live here to try and fix it. Of course, you would do it yourself, if it were not for the fear of breaking it entirely and having no door at all in such a shady neighbourhood. With a click of the door behind you, your entire body relaxes with a drop of your shoulders and you drop the keys in the chipped bowl by the front door.

Once free of your shoes, you trudge further into the apartment. Inside it was much nicer than outside, you had made sure to work hard to make yourself comfortable here. At first, you hesitated on decorating, the constant voice in the back of your head telling you that Dabi—Touya wouldn’t like it. But it became easier over time, as the claws he had sunk in your flesh had loosened with each passing day without him leering over you. Of course, he still lingered deep in your bones, scars like the ones he left on you would never truly go away.

You hadn’t realised you were quite so ‘damaged’ until after he was gone. When you were suddenly allowed to break the surface of the water Dabi had been holding you down beneath to see you squirm, it was jarring, to say the least. You struggled day to day wondering what to do with yourself, you had no one to direct your every move or to care for you the way he had. The first couple of years were the worst, a constant void in place of where your heart should be. You longed to have Dabi back, to card your fingers through soft snow-like hair, you missed his insufferable warmth. It had suffocated you at first until it became a comfort, something you needed to get through the day. 

The letters you sent back and forth with him had helped some, the smell of smoke and ash when you’d open a new letter from him would get you through the darkest of nights. He had always had a way with his words, not many would think that of Touya, he hadn’t finished school and he most definitely didn’t have the support through his teenage years but he had taught himself how to read and write. And he was very good at it, very fucking good.

With each letter, you could practically hear his voice, the syrupy low tone that would muddle your brain and numb your nerves. Those letters had started to grow more erratic, it morphed from the loving Touya you had been privileged to know in the safety of his bedroom into Dabi, a cruel villain who wanted you to suffer just as he had. He didn’t take it easy when you told him you were starting to question the legitimacy of your relationship with the scarred man. He grew unkind with his words, the I love you turning into I wish you were fucking dead at the end of each letter. 

He felt betrayed, you figured, everyone he had known had abandoned him and you were just the same as the rest of them. His final letter went into gruesome detail as to what he would do to you once he got out, how his hands may be made to burn but he would relish in watching the light leave your eye when he choked you to death. You didn’t need to read further to know he would’ve gone into detail about what he’d then do with your dead body. That was the last letter you had read, but they continued to come every fortnight like clockwork until they didn’t. You figured he might’ve gotten bored, or perhaps someone had taken him out on the inside. There wasn’t a shortage of people who would want Dabi dead.

The bag in your hand was heavy as you dropped it onto the counter of the tiny kitchen, the relief in your wrist was instantaneous and you could finally relax fully. Your eyes close for a brief moment, relishing in the quiet of the apartment with the distant sound of sirens from down on the street. It was good to be home, each trip was harder than the last with the fear of being recognised by heroes, or worse. With the safety of your home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, you reopened your eyes to begin the trivial task of putting away the groceries. But as you step further into the kitchen, it’s as if your entire body is dunked into ice water.

There’s a letter. An open letter was pinned to the old wooden cupboard with one of the knives from the rack. You don’t need to get closer to know which letter it is, the paper is well-worn and the big hearts he had drawn at the bottom are enough of an indicator. It’s the one he sent you on your birthday. It was riddled with love confessions, how he missed you more than anything in the world and when he’d get out he promised your hand in marriage. A life you wanted but knew you’d never get with a man like Dabi.

You take a step back, hip bumping into the corner of the counter to startle you into action. You whip around, ready to run out of the apartment but instead, your path is cut off almost instantly. There’s a broad chest in front of you, wide shoulders and a head of snowy white hair that you would recognise in a crowd of a thousand people. When you meet his eyes, he’s sneering down at you with a heat in his eyes that you saw moments before he would burn someone alive.

“Hello, doll. Miss me?” His voice hasn’t changed in the eight years apart, it’s still got a timbre to it that you can feel deep in the pit of your stomach. He looks bigger, somehow, the muscles of his neck and shoulders look firmer. He had always loomed over you but now he seemed even taller, swallowing the room whole with just his aura alone. Dabi must be able to see the way you’re eyeing him up, not quite in the way you had in the past but rather in a way that makes him excited; you were thinking of running.

You’re horribly predictable, he realises as you dash to the other side of the kitchen to dart around the tiny kitchen island that really didn’t give you any sort of head start. You can hear him click his tongue, then huffing a sigh before there’s the loud squeak of his boots and the thump of his bounding footsteps as he chases after you. The apartment is small, you don’t have a whole lot of room to make your escape so you have to rush past him when he starts to corner you into the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom. 

A big mistake, you realise. He’s always been quick, and lithe on his feet and it reminded you of when a snake would strike. Fast and precise. His hands grab at your ribcage, easily swiping you off your feet before you’re slammed against the closest wall with a bang of your head on the wall. The world swirls when you try to look at him, the blue of his eyes glowing with mirth at the fact you even tried to outrun him. You’ve never been able to do it before, so what made you think you could do it this time?

“Silly fucking bitch,” He snarls in your face, the heat coming from his hands alone makes you squirm uncomfortably, you can feel the sting of welts starting to form on your skin in the shape of his hands. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you? You really fucking thought I’d forget about you?” Your silence isn’t what he wanted, apparently, as he pulls you from the wall just to slam you against it once again before throwing you to the floor. The movement has your stomach churning, bile rising in your throat when your head impacts on the floor again. 

“I’d never forget about you, never.” His weight is heavy as he settles atop you, his thighs effectively pinning you beneath him before his hands descend onto your throat. His eyes are wide, manic, his lips parted in a twisted grin that makes him look more like the Devil himself. “Remember what I said to you? Hm? You remember the letters I sent?” You choke against his hands when he pushes harder, your fingers instinctively trying to come up and loosen his hold on you. “FUCKING ANSWER ME!” The spit of his words hits you in the face, but your entire head feels numb and fuzzy, your lips hurt – everything does.

“Y–” He leans in closer, sneering in your face and it does nothing to relieve the pressure on your throat. You’re going to die, he’s actually going to do it. “Yes!” you croak, hardly an audible word but Dabi hears it loud and clear. He holds eye contact as if he’s waiting for something, you’re not quite sure. Maybe he’s waiting for you to die, he had wanted to see the life drain from your eyes—

His hands come away from your throat, a too-hot hand latching on the underside of your jaw and his blunt nails dig into your cheeks. You suck in a harsh breath, choking on the sudden reintroduction of oxygen but you don’t get much longer to relish the fact you’re still alive. Dabi looms over you, the outline of his body blocks out the dingy yellow light overhead, giving him a grim outline that you have to squint at when you look up at him properly.

“Yeah? Then why’d you ignore me? Why’d you make me think you were fucking dead, or that you were busy getting fucked by some other guy like the whore that you are.” There’s a warning in his eye that prompts you to reply.

“I–I was scared!” you clear your throat uncomfortably, the confession coming from your mouth unwillingly but it was the hard truth. You were terrified of him and the things he had said to you, solely because you knew he would go through with it. If Dabi was anything, then he was a man of his word. His fingers curl harder into your jaw, forcing your mouth to open with the pressure. The look in his eye terrifies you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking with the way his eyes bounce back and forth between your own. He’s searching, you belatedly realise, searching to see if you’re telling the truth.

“Good,” he finally says, “You should be fucking scared.” He pulls your head from the floor just to smash it back against the floor in a blink of an eye. Everything falls into inky darkness.

There’s a distant sound of water running, but it sounds like it’s miles away. Your mind starts to slowly swirl back to life, the pain at the back of your head blossoming into something fierce that has a pained groan coming from your lips.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer looking up at the ceiling of your hallway but rather at the ceiling fan in your bedroom, you’re not sure if it’s actually on or if your vision is still swimming. Nothing is quite adding up, how did you end up here? You were on the floor, and a ghost of something heavy atop of you had your mind jogging to try and catch up. But you weren’t always on the floor, something had put you there — no, someone had put you there. Dabi.

He’s not here, as far as you can tell, there’s no immediate warmth that comes with him when he steps into a room but there’s a distant smell of ash. He was still lurking. The shooting pain in the back of your head has your body jolting, muscles seizing up before they relax once the pain subsides just enough to let you breathe.

You were no idiot, you had hit your head a number of times, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were teetering on the edge between life and death. Though that doesn’t deter you when your mind finally catches up with you, you have to get out of here. If he’s not here right now, then you have a chance to leave. This might be the last chance you have.

With a great effort that has your face screwing up, eyes clenched shut, you roll yourself onto your side until your face is stuffed into the soft cotton of your bed sheets that you huff against. Your entire body felt like it was being weighed down, your muscles screamed when you slowly got your arms beneath you to push yourself up enough to stare down at the bed. Instantly your eyes lock onto the patch of still-wet blood, the stain was massive and the sight of it had your stomach threatening to empty itself. Or maybe that was the concussion.

Your feet slip on the floor when you try to find your footing, your knees colliding with the floor with a muted thud that you hope Dabi doesn’t hear. The feeling of your jeans against the skin of your knees is relieving, you knew Dabi preferred for you to be … conscious, but you wouldn’t put it past him to want something regardless of whether you were awake or not. Slowly, you get up onto unsteady feet as if you had never walked a day in your life before. Your vision swims again when you stand up straight, it feels as if your head is ten times the size it is as it lolls back in threat of toppling you over again.

But just as you’re about to fall, there are hands catching you beneath your armpits and letting your head land against a shoulder – a bare one, but your mind doesn’t quite connect the dots just yet. “You really are pathetic, aren’t you? You can’t do anything without me, no wonder you panicked when I wasn’t here anymore…” Dabi drawls into your ear, but his voice sounds like it’s submerged in water. He breathes in a heavy exasperated sigh, his body jostling yours. “C’mon doll, let’s get you cleaned up. You made such a mess.”

There’s no room to argue, not that you would be able to form one with how your tongue tingles and your throat burns. Dabi is anything but graceful with the way he drags you towards the bathroom, uncaring for your feet that slip or bang against the corner of the shoddy old wooden door as you pass by.

There’s a bang of a door and you’re submerged in sticky warmth, the steam from the bathtub filling the room to the point where you can’t quite see more than a few inches in front of your face. With a shove and a push, you find your hands pressed into the slippy tile of your bathroom sink, your mind still too foggy to control your extremities and you find yourself pressed against the cool glass mirror.

You can feel Dabi’s eyes on you as he watches you struggle to get your bearings, your forehead pressed to the glass is soothing against the deafening thunderstorm in your head. His fingers are long when they wrap themselves carefully around your throat this time, pressing into the bruises you weren’t aware had already formed from his previous attack. Your head slumps back against his shoulders and you can just make out the glowing blue of his eyes as he stares right back at you, it always felt like he had the ability to stare into your soul.

“Look at you…” He coos, voice a soft contrast to the harsh voice from earlier. His spare hand cards through your hair, brushing past the gash on the back of your head that has you wincing. “My poor baby, you did this all to yourself.” Had you? You supposed he did have a point, you did ignore his letters, and you did try to run when he always told you to never do it. If you weren’t so stupid you might’ve avoided this, you shouldn’t have turned your back on him.

His burning fingers slide up from your throat until he grabs at your jaw once again, angling your head to stare at yourself directly in the mirror. Even through the thickness of the steam you can see you look on the verge of half-dead, there’s no life to your eyes, no usual glow to your skin. It’s horrifying to see yourself looking like a different person entirely. You were no longer you, but rather you were reduced back to the role of being Dabi’s plaything. Dabi hums deep in his throat as if he can hear the sluggish thoughts rolling around in your mind, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“Look what you did to my baby, my doll. She’s all broken and for what? Because you forgot your place?” He clicks his tongue, chin withdrawing from your shoulder until he’s drawn back up to his full height and you can just make out the look on his face. His nostrils flared, lips drawing into a grim line and eyes half-lidded. “Maybe I should do you a favour, remind you of your place.” Dabi spins you on the spot, steadying your whirling head with both of his hands before he takes a careful step back and you can’t help but wonder if he plans on reminding you of your place by finally putting you out of your misery.

“Strip.”

What?

“Don’t make me do it for you, you won’t like it.” It’s a very clear warning, blaring sirens and red flags. You have to blink hard, will your mind to work with your trembling hands that attempt to grab at the bottom of your shirt. It feels like an eternity goes by until you’re dropping the shirt onto the floor with a wet plop, your eyebrows furrow at the sound but when you attempt to look down your vision swims again – “Useless.” Dabi grumbles before his warmth is pressed to your front, the smell of forest fire smoke choking you.

His fingers are quick and precise when they undo the buttons of your jeans before they’re shoved down your thighs, pooling at your ankles and Dabi is at least courteous enough to let you hold his forearms when you climb out of them until you’re left in just your underwear.

As if appraising a piece of art in a museum, Dabi lets his eyes slowly trail over flesh that he had seen an endless amount of times in the past. His head tilts slowly, regarding the swell of your breasts in the cup of your bra and the softness of your stomach, the way your hips pudge a little from the tight elastic of your plain underwear.

Still engulfing your personal space with his heat, he lets a hand slide up along your side, pressing dangerously into your ribs to hear the sharp inhale of when his fingers brush into bruised skin and muscle. Cerulean eyes level with your own when he inches around to the back of your bra, his fingers seemingly hardly move before the straps slip down your shoulders and the cups slacken on your chest. He plucks it from your body, letting it drop to the floor before his fingers trail back around to your front.

He keeps his head tilted, gaze redirected down to your chest and he can’t help but wet his tongue in anticipation. You had always been his most prized possession, the most beautiful, a masterpiece that was all for him. Those same too-hot fingers trail along the underside of your breasts, feeling the weight of them before groping one much too hard in one large palm. His fingers curl cruelly, squeezing as if it were a stress ball and all you could do was take it, your face crumpling in pain much to his delight.

“I trusted you, y’know.” He all but mumbles, gaze not lifting from the way your tit spills between his fingers when he gives another squeeze. “I thought it would always be me and you, against the world or whatever the fuck they say.” His thumb and index finger mercilessly pinch your nipple, tugging on it harshly to pull a pitiful cry from your mouth.

The sound has his eyes flicking up to yours, watching the way your lashes clump with unshed tears and how you’re not even attempting to stop the saliva dribbling from your lips. You really were so pathetic. Dabi chews on his scarred bottom lip for a moment, tossing over a thought in his mind but instead he opts to move his fingers to your neglected nipple, pulling and tugging until you’re a snivelling mess.

“‘M sorry!” You sob, the volume of your voice makes your head throb and the tears falling in fat streaks make your head feel heavier. “I’m sorry, Touya! Please, I–I didn’t know what to do without you.” The use of his name makes his eyebrow twitch, jaw clicking in place when he glares at you. It’s a low blow, to use his name like that and he knows you know that. He had always forbidden you from using that name unless you were given permission.

“Last warning, doll. I’m being nice here. You don’t get to use that name when you betrayed me.” His words have your mouth closing, bottom lip wobbling in an effort to keep yourself from openly crying in front of your tormentor. He would only ridicule you for it, tease you and see how far he could go before you broke apart from his words alone. Dabi doesn’t wait to pull down your panties next, the material dragging and scratching at your skin until they’re pooled at your feet along with everything else. “Turn around.”

And you do. You wordlessly turn, letting your hands brace on the sink once again before you meet your own gaze in the mirror. You somehow looked worse, the snot and saliva made you look quite like the snivelling petulant child that Dabi spoke to you like. There’s a clink of a belt before it hits the floor, the dropping of your heart into your stomach threatens to tip you over the edge.

A boot kicks your ankles apart, uncaring for the way you flinch at just how hard he kicks you. You’re perched over the sink, your stomach twitching every time it touches the cold porcelain. Dabi had only ever forced himself onto you a handful of times in the past, at the start of your “relationship”, he always soothed your tears and hushed your refusal with false promises hidden in between his sickly sweet words.

Over time the lines blurred between him forcing himself onto you and you willingly opening your legs for him when he asked for it. It pleased him to see you listening to him, and he became ‘softer’ if that was a possible word to describe a villain like him. Time spent with Dabi got easier when he was softer, it actually felt believable when he whispered into your ear at night how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. It was hard to distinguish his lies and the truth when he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

A searing hot hand pressed to your bare ass has your mind jolting, bile rising momentarily in your throat until you lean into the coolness of the sink once again. Those same fingers that feel as if they had come from the depths of hell brush their way down over your sensitive skin until they find their way between your thighs. And much to your embarrassment, you’re wet. Biology was a cruel mean thing, your body was still hardwired to react to the man of your nightmares lest you want to face the consequences. Your bottom lip wobbles, thankful for the fact Dabi is preoccupied with his new discovery.

His laugh is loud and boisterous, almost manic with the way his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re fucking wet. I knew it,” he breathes in hard, pushing his hips flush with your own and you can feel the twitch of his leaky cock between your cheeks. “I knew you missed me, I knew you still loved me. This pussy never lied to me, unlike someone.” His words sting, a jab directly into your heart.

He sounds hurt, upset that you’d actually try to lie and hide away from him. It has fresh tears pricking your eyes, how could you hurt someone like him? Someone who loved you so devotedly.

Long deft fingers prod and poke between your thighs, pulling your lips apart crudely to watch the strings of arousal snap and cling to your thighs. He’s still chuckling deep in his chest, elated with the newfound knowledge that you still want him in such a carnal way. He circles your clit in clumsy patterns, enough to have your thighs tensing up and hips arching into the pleasure you’re unwillingly receiving. But the thing about Dabi is—

He’s not a patient man.

The tip of his cock pierces your unprepared hole, the pain shoots from deep in your pelvis and ricochets up your spine until it tingles at the base of your skull. Your hands help brace yourself over the sink, your head drops down and you’re vaguely aware of the way your throat aches with a scream. His fingers find a home in hidden bruises, the sting of his metal staples heating against your skin is familiar. Dabi had always been big, thick and unforgiving with the piercings that he adorned. Each of the barbells digs into your velvety walls, his hips so flush with yours you’re not sure where you end and he begins anymore.

“Fuck, missed this too much. Thought I’d never get to feel your cunt wrapped around me again.” His words are vulgar, but they spark something to life in your brain. Something you hadn’t quite considered until now. Just how was he here? Last you heard Dabi was never getting out, he killed too many people and committed far too many crimes to just be let loose on the world again.

Though you never got to air the question, his hips drawback until they’re smacking back against your ass. The pace from there on out is brutal, the tip of his cock bullies itself into your clenching cunt until it hits against your cervix. Each tap feels like you’re being punched in the gut, your lips parted in a soundless scream.

The pain was too much, the ache in your head was getting steadily worse and the back-and-forth thrashing of your body was making you woozy. “D–Dabi…” You try to speak, the words slurred with the saliva that dribbles from your parted mouth and drips into the sink.

“What?” He snarls, grunting with the effort of how hard he’s fucking you.

“Hurts.” You reply with a gasp, his fingers instantly latching around your throat until you’re pulled up to face what you assume must be the Devil leering over your shoulder with the most disgruntled expression on his face. 

You can smell the burning of flesh before the pain registers, the sizzling hardly audible over the sound of his hips slapping against your abused rear. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll teach you a fucking lesson. Next time you think about trying to leave me, you’ll remember how much it hurt.”

His fingers squeeze tighter around your throat until you can’t breathe, the horrid stench of marred flesh the only thing flooding your system when you desperately try to suck in air. Then you’re falling forward, your forehead plummeting with force against the mirror and you think you hear it smashing over the deafening ring in your ears. It feels like your head is being held under a pillow, like someone has pressed two large hands over your ears and held you there. Your throat burns, for a lack of a better word. The flesh bubbles and hisses with a reminder of Dabi’s words.

You’re not quite sure how much time has passed until you work up the strength to lift your gaze to the now-smashed mirror. The first thing you notice is the blood trickling down from a gash on your forehead, trailing down along the bridge of your nose until it meets the plumpness of your lips – filling the cracks with a metallic taste. Then you see it, the burn, it’s gnarly.

The flesh is hardly recognisable as flesh, it looks like butchered meat. It’s blistered already, layers of the skin open for the world to see and the sight finally does tip you over the edge. The bile doesn’t burn quite as much as the 3rd-degree handprint on your throat as you spill the contents of your stomach into the sink.

Dabi groans in anger, snarling as he retches you away from the sink and throws you onto all fours on the floor. “Disgusting fucking whore,” There’s something wet pressed to your mouth, a sponge you realise, as it drags roughly against your mouth until he forces it into your mouth. The scouring pad scrapes along your tongue, replacing the taste of vomit with soap. “Always making me clean up your messes.” Then it’s gone as fast as it came, your body being shoved and pushed until your back is against the bathmat and you’re staring up at Dabi who seems to be kneeling already between your thighs.

He wastes no time once again in pressing himself back inside of you, the stretch this time nowhere near as painful but it reignites the old ache of when he first forced himself inside. Your heart aches when you stare up at him, silhouetted by the flickering dim light of the bathroom bulb. It makes the white of his hair glow, angelic your brain supplies, but he was anything but an angel. His hands grab at your thighs, forcing them back until they uncomfortably press into your chest. The angle makes it hard to breathe, the furious pace he sets is agonising.

But your body is betraying you once again, the lewd squelch of your pussy is giving you away. A deep dark and twisted part of you has missed this, missed him. Missed the way he would fuck you like it was his last day on earth, like he had something to prove. It has an involuntary whimper leaving your throat, and of course, Dabi perks up at the sound – whilst he didn’t care much if you were silent the entire time, he always enjoyed the cute noises you’d make for him and only him. His eyes find yours, and you’re sucked into the endless expanse of the blinding blue Hellfire.

Dabi has a new goal in mind now, to fuck you the way he knows you liked to be fucked. His hips roll a little more fluidly, finding the old rhythm from all those years ago that surely would have your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your lips parting to sing him the most beautiful of songs with your moans. You don't disappoint him either, not when his thumb joins the fray and rubs languid circles against your puffy clit. The initial contact and stimulation have your hips jerking, fighting against the hold he has on you but it’s futile; he has you pinned beneath him much like a wolf would with its prey.

“There she is,” he grins when your fluttering eyes meet his, that contempt and confusion you had held onto for so long being replaced with a glassy look in your eye that must be lust. “There’s my fucking girl. Missed you so much baby, missed your cute noises. Y’gonna give me more, right? It’s the right thing to do, after all, you did hurt my feelings.” He still looks angelic angled over you like this, the shadows of his face almost hiding the glinting staples and scars that cover most of his body now. You can’t help but nod at his words, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

Dabi groans at your assent, fucking into you somehow harder. The slap of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass is loud, the sticky sound of his hips meeting yours fuels your own impending orgasm.

Of course, Dabi knows it’s coming too, his thumb presses firmer against your clit and moves a little faster to edge you closer and closer whilst he drops his hips just enough to have the tip of his cock hitting that squishy spot that no one but him has been able to reach. 

You can’t help but gasp and squeal, your back arching off of the floor until it slams back down when your orgasm hits you like a train. It’s violent, shakes through your bones like an earthquake would through a building. Your toes curl uncomfortably in the air, your thighs twitch in an attempt to close them to bar the man still torturing your clit from causing you any more pleasurable pain.

“Enough,” you try and push his hand away but Dabi never listens, he bats your hand away with a harsh slap that has your skin tingling in pain. “You’re gonna take it, like the good girl I know you are.” 

“Can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” He grapples your still twitching thighs until they tighten around his waist and then he’s diving down to your face. His breath is hot against your face, the smell of cigarette ash suffocates you.

“I know you can. Now kiss me.” He demands, and the fear of not obeying his command in such a compromising position has you indulging him. Your lips press against his, you work hard to try and keep yourself dispassionate but it’s impossible when he does the thing with the tip of his tongue – drags it along your bottom lip so delicately until he pries you open, lets the smooth expanse of his tongue coax yours out until he can suck on it. 

The steadily rising heat of the kiss engulfs you, douses you in an indescribable warmth that you can’t help but lean into the familiarity of it. It’s intoxicating to let go of that fear, to detach yourself from the person you had become in the eight years of solitude and recede back into the one who was simply in love with a man who was willing to burn down the world at her feet. But you’ve never been allowed to live in the illusion you formulate to ignore the harsh reality of things, Dabi would never give you that luxury.

His lips part from yours with a wet smack, saliva coating your lips and he grins again. The staples in his cheeks almost look like they might split as he stares at you, splayed out with a faraway look in your eye when you stare up at him.

“Gonna cum inside this beautiful pussy,” he breathes, eyes coming to life when your eyes slowly start to refocus on him and the words he’s letting spill from his saccharine mouth. “Fill you up nice and good with my cum, get you pregnant so you can never fucking leave me.” 

What? Is that what he wanted? You squirm in an attempt to get away from him, but he keeps you uncomfortably pinned in a deep mating press whilst his cock bullies itself deeper – you hadn’t even noticed the way it was twitching so harshly in the depths of your pussy until now. He was too close, he was really going to do it—

“Oh fuck, yeah, squeeze me like that baby. I knew you wanted me to breed you.” You don’t, you don’t want to be trapped with his child. It’s the ultimate thing he would hold over your head until the end of time, you could never escape him if you gave birth to a child that had the same dangerous eyes as his. “Aw, doll, don’t cry. It’s okay, I won’t leave you to raise the brat on its own. I’ll be there, always.” You hadn’t even realised you were crying until he mentioned it.

The groan that rumbles deep in Dabi’s chest and vibrates up through his throat is something you would never, ever, forget. It was a sound that meant only one thing; he was about to cum. You feel the twitch before the first spurt of molten cum paints your insides. That burn of your insides is something you had grown accustomed to after the time spent with Dabi, he had said it was because of his quirk. Everything about him was just hotter.

He holds himself balls deep in your dripping cunt, uncaring at the shuddering sob that shakes your body at the realisation that he’s going to keep his promise of making sure you get pregnant. The thought has your eyes closing, your head far too sore to think about what might just happen if you were to get pregnant with Dabi’s child.

Your body is limp when he effortlessly picks you up eventually, tucking his hands under your armpits before your feet are placed in something cold and wet. Your body starts with a jolt, your skin pricking with gooseflesh before you’re forced to sit down in the bathtub. Just how much time had passed for the bath to grow cold?

A warm chest is pressed to your back, pulling you effortlessly between long defined legs and arms loop around you like a safety belt. Dabi holds you there, his fingers stroking delicately along the skin he had bruised and marred not too long ago. You could almost fall into the allusion of him being a lover, a man who was simply giving you the aftercare you need.

The bath bubbles around you with the raising temperature, his skin is too hot for you to be laid up against like this and you can feel the staples burning their way into your flesh but you can’t find the strength anymore to fight back. He pushes you forward slightly to reach for a washcloth, dipping it into the scorching water and slowly but carefully dragging it along your bloodied skin. He doesn't go near the wound on your throat.

It feels like no time has passed at all since he left you and now, those eight years apart squashed into nothing when he noses his way into your hair and breathes in.

“How did you find me?” You speak eventually, Dabi remains silent for a moment and that only makes you worry more. 

“I always knew where you were. You shouldn’t trust everyone you meet.” 

And if that wasn’t the truth.

#tw noncon #cw noncon #tw baby trapping #cw dark content #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #touya smut #dabi x you

[emjiroki]

Telling Toji you want to divorce him and leave him is like signing your "babymaking" contract. Oh so you don't love him and don't want to stay with him?

He will make you have his baby so you won't leave him. He would be so ಠ⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಠ before going down on you

Then Baby Gumi popped out 9 months later 🥰

THE FACE LMAO but he would totally do this! Toji is definitely the "if I can't have you no one can" kind of guy. He'll put that baby in your belly just so that even if you do actually leave he always has a connection to you. And even if he doesn't really care for all the parenting stuff he's at your house picking Megumi up every other weekend, eating out of your fridge and intimidating any boyfriend you've got around, an ever present pain in the ass. But we love him we would never leave

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #tw baby trapping #anons 😶‍🌫️ #inbox 💌 #em talks 👄

[lesinquietes]

I fucking love thinking about how by-the-books Erwin Smith dares to deviate from regime and reason solely for you. Like, he knows it isn’t chill to lock you away so you’re safe and no one else can see you, but does he release you? That would be utterly preposterous. You know how deep his love for you runs. It scares you. If only you took the time to hear him out. Maybe then, your confusion wouldn’t lead to big, silly emotions, like fear and anger. Maybe then, you wouldn’t try to flee at every opportunity you’re given, regardless of how conceivably thin your chance of escape is. He feels pathetic admitting he doesn’t handle rejection very well — especially not when it comes from you. The next time you run, he promised himself he’d physically incapacitate you. If he’s feeling kind, he might even let you choose.

What’ll it be: a baby or broken bones?

#18+ mdni #tw dark content #tw baby trapping #reader has a uterus #aot erwin #erwin smith #yandere erwin #yandere erwin smith #yandere erwin smith x reader #yandere erwin x reader

[chaoswithinstars]

only one [Gojo S.]

Tw: DC,yandere, baby trapping, mention of sex, birth control manipulation, NC (mention of drunk reader)

Gojo doesn't really want children, he already has his hands full with the brats in the school. He just wants you, to keep you by his side forever. He loves you but he has noticed that your affection towards him is slowly fading, you rarely kiss him and when he does initiate, you're quick to turn your head so his lips land on your cheek. You pull out of his embrace after a few moments, no longer squeezing his waist and burrowing your face into his chest or neck. You've dropped the cute pet names too, you don't have sex as often, you rarely talk…

Gojo can't have that, he loves and needs you too much for you to break up with him; you're the only untainted person he has in his life. So he does everything he can to light that fire from before, show you that he's still Mr Right for you. There's flowers and chocolates, dinners and dates, abundance of gifts and he sees that it's working. Gojo is well aware how charming he is, he's not above using each and every trick in the books to have you fall.

You're back in that honeymoon phase, loving him from every little thing he does, for all those quirks he has. Sex is amazing, feels even better than before; from slow and sensual to hard and fast, old kinks to trying out new ones. You feel like you're living your best life.

But it doesn't always feel like that. There's something in the back of your head telling you that something isn't right, that Gojo is playing games with you and yet, the moment he sweeps you into his arms, you shut that little voice up. He wouldn't do anything bad, he's so sweet and attentive, so good to you that all those doubts have to be just that- doubts.

You should have listened.

Since day one of his attempts, Gojo has been replacing your birth control with sugar pills, has been poking little holes in the condoms, made you teas that people say helps with fertility, haven't used condoms when you got drunk (when he got you drunk). He's been doing it all, just to keep you at his side forever. At first, you don't think anything of a few missed days of your period, it happens from time to time, you don't even think anything is off when a month passes- your hormones have been messed up in general, it wasn't the first time.

Then two months pass, smells start to bother you, you feel nauseous and you've thrown up. Two out of three pregnancy tests scream positive and you're lowkey panicking. You don't know how it happened, you were so careful, almost obsessively, with your pills and additional protection with the condoms. But your sweet, lovely boyfriend is there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances into your ears, kissing your panicky tears away. You don't see him smile in victory, you don't see that now there's no escape until it is too late.

Gojo couldn't be happier, seeing you grow with his child. He's clingy, he rubs your swollen feet, buys all of the food you are craving for but doesn't let you go outside, doesn't let you hear your family and friends with a few carefully chosen words, picking at your weaknesses and picks at your childhood scars of broken relationships. They could never love you like Gojo does, could never protect you and your baby from the dangers of the world- only he can.

#hefi writes #spicy wiritng #tw baby trapping #tw yandere #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader

[the-grimm-writer]

Dude imagine a Yan CEO going as far as purposely knocking his employee up, firing her and making her his housewife

He'd act so shocked about it to like "oh you're pregnant? darn looks like you can't work anymore." Pretending like he totally didn't do everything to make sure he got you pregnant, whether it was replacing your birth control or just simply reassuring you you won't get pregnant despite coming in you every time.

And you'd be so caught off guard that you barely process what's happened until you're locked up in his home with your belly getting bigger by the day. <3

#breeding kink 😩 #suddenly im imagining keigo in dis scenario #grimm thirsts #tw baby trapping

[fbfh]

But what if Francis got his gf pregnant to babytrap her? Cuz he doesn’t want her to leave him.

AAAUGH. the noise I just made was inhuman. thank you so much for this one anon fr fr. (reader and francis are both aged up to 18+ for smut)

no bc it's when Lois finds him fucking you on the kitchen counter that he first gets the idea. the boys had barely gone to sleep when Francis absolutely jumped your bones. you thought it was going to be another one of his usual impromptu makeout sessions paired with flowery ramblings about how incredible you are, how you shine brighter than the north star, how you're the most amazing girl he's ever met, and you're not even a girl, you're an angel. which yeah it did start out like that, then one thing lead to another and his hand was down your pants. next thing you know he’s kissing your neck and he has you pinned beneath you the way he likes and he's telling you he loves you while he hits that spot inside you over and over. you're millimeters away from cumming when the front door closes. Francis doesn't stop. he keeps going and going until he hears Lois behind him.

"Francis!" He finally realizes she's there, and looks up in a panic. "Are you kidding me?! What's the one thing - the one thing I told you when this started?" she demands rhetorically, gesturing at you in reference to when you started sitting for them.

"Don't fuck the babysitter!" Lois finishes. You scramble away from each other and you begin to apologize. All the rage drops from her face as she turns to you.

"Oh, I'm not mad at you, sweetie." She turns back to Francis. "YOU, on the other hand..." She gives him the lecture of a lifetime. It feels like it lasts forever, but eventually, she's said her peace and they watch you pull yourself together and grab your stuff so you can go home. She had a feeling this was going to happen, that Francis would end up falling for whoever she hired. between that and how hard it is to keep a sitter, you already lowkey have her approval. she could see this coming from a mile away, she just didn't think it'd be so soon. she meets you at the front door and hands you your cash for the night. before you can sputter out more apologies, she cuts you off.

"Really, I'm not mad at you. This isn't your fault." You relax a little. "At this point, we should just get him neutered, make it a lot easier on everyone..." You laugh and she sends you on your way. She turns back to Francis. He's ready to get yelled at again, but she just looks at him. She's quiet. This is almost worse. She's quiet when she does talk, but he can tell she means business.

"If you break that girl's heart, I break your neck. She's good for you, Francis, don't mess this up." He looks relieved. "And one more thing. Don't get her pregnant."

he blinks, then laughs.

"I'm not going to get her pregnant."

They both go to bed shortly after that. His brothers all pretend to be asleep even though they heard everything. They can press him for details in the morning. In spite of his best efforts, Francis can't sleep. Not even when he drowns his pillow case with the bottle of body spray he got in the same scent you use. Get you pregnant. He's not going to get you pregnant. He could, of course. In theory. But why would he? So he can see a little bump grow on your tummy where you're carrying his child? So he can see you all cute and pregnant and dependant on him for nine whole months? So you can raise a precious little baby that's half him and half you and be bound together irreversibly for the rest of your lives?? Huh. That doesn't sound so bad, actually. And you'd look cute pregnant. God you'd look cute pregnant. He lays awake, thinking about it so late into the night. When he finally does fall asleep, he dreams about it. It's only for a few seconds, but he can see you clear as day with your sweet smile and pretty eyes all round with his baby, your baby, and when he wakes up his mind is more than made up. He kind of has to now, right? He absolutely does. All it would take is a few holes poked in a condom and boom, dream come true - a dream life where you're tied to him forever and ever. You're coming over later this week, and he makes a mental note to make sure he knows where a safety pin is before then.

#drabbles #francis wilkerson drabbles #francis wilkerson x reader #francis wilkerson #francis wilkerson smut #malcolm in the middle drabbles #malcolm in the middle x reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle smut #tw baby trapping #LSDKFJSLKJFSL #BARK BARK BARK GRRR WOOF #it's giving 'what was the one thing i told you not to do' 'raise the dead' 'and what did you do' '.......raise the dead' #he so would #so so so would do this #with his history of impulse #bad decision making skills #AND a desire to constantly disobey his mother???? #and the obsessive wilkerson gene???????? #zero chance he won't try to baby trap you #you're so real for this anon

[aajjks]

Izuku is such a sneaky little fucker, he’s literally going to baby trap you and you wouldn’t even realise it.

#tw baby trapping #and he can.. I wouldn’t mind he makes me so… 😵‍💫

[festive]

*shakes can* spare baby trapper kita crumbs??

asking because I love seeing the potential a nice guy has to be a bastard

!!!!!

Now it’s no secret that grandma Kita wants to be married, even more she wants great grandchildren.. constantly hounds Shinsuke about it — although she means well and he’d be lying if he’s said he’s never thought about it, see he’s a family man ofc, there’s nothing he wants more than to come home after a long day of work to you dressed all pretty while making him dinner with a lil mini version of him greeting him at the door.

The only problem? Is every time he mentions it you brush it off, talking bout ‘shin I don’t think I’m ready’.

And that’s what irks him, when will you be ready?

Hell, y’all have been together for years now.

Running out of options, he confides in his old teammates… it’s Atsumu who says it..

“Baby trapping? Did I hear that right?” The rest of them nod, before Atsumu explains that maybe you just need that extra push, that extra push is being pregnant.

What’s worse is Kita thinks about it — even feels bad about thinking about it (although all thoughts of guilt are pushed out the door when atsumu continues bringing up the pros and somehow they outweigh the cons.)

Weeks have passed, Kita no longer brings up any talk of marriage or anything like that — he’s still as sweet as ever to you, and that’s when you let your guard down.

Shin’s a sweet talker, manages to talk you into letting him hit raw, you contemplate it for awhile (let’s say you’re not on birth control.) you agree, and his just so ecstatic — you completely miss that darker look his eyes hold.

Shin was right it does feel better without the condom — YOU feel better without it, he’s made sure to fuck you so well, you can barely register that warm feeling in your lower area.

“You pulled out, right?” You look at Kita, and he gives you a smile in return, “‘course I did, I promised.” But he didn’t.

Now let’s say if you were on birth control — Atsumu would also give him the idea to start sabotaging your pills. Teehee.

#mutuals<3 #sister wife: Robyn 💓 #Fjdjdjd baby trapping with Kita #now I wanna write a fic about this #tw baby trapping #sorry I’m just waking up and my thoughts are all over the place #😭

[catoncrack59]

Little yandere comic

#yandere eddie munson #yandere art #tw baby trapping

[emjiroki]

BABY TRAPPING 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Lmao yes baby trapping! It's so fun to write honestly (that izana fic blew up when I didn't expect it to) Izana is the ultimate baby trap king (I feel like Ran Haitani is too...) they're very "if they want something they get it" type of guys you know?

#AskBox #em talks 👄 #izana kurokawa #tokyo revengers #tw baby trapping

[erikatsu]

mmm thinkin about baby trapping dainsleif

#gonna wrap my legs so tight around his waist #that he can't pull out #i just want him to stopppppp #quit fighting the abyss n come love me instead #tw baby trapping #tw.baby trapping #tw: baby trapping #if u wont do it for me then ill give u a whole new reason

[fuwushiguro]

i cant stop thinking of scumbag gojo.. damn you're good at keeping your readers hooked to the point where im left going back to read it all over again got how many times this past week 5? 6? doesnt matter. i'm curious though if your planning to add a 3rd part, a finale of sorts?

if you arent planning to write another part then i'll respect it but can i ask how gojo would react if let's say failed attempted suicide would happen? the reason could be a miscarriage, being driven too far up for debate really. for once i want him to be the one in pain or would he simply move on to the next bitch to call his wife? i'm so intrigued by your thinking process of creating this

you really are a gem in hiding

Ah thank you so much!

I haven't planned on doing a part three honestly. I wrote the first part intending for it to be a one shot and there was such high demand for a sequel so I included it for my kinktober event last year. I've had fleeting ideas for a third part but I don't think I have the passion or drive to write it.

But that's a great question! I don't think the reader would personally contemplate suicide. I can imagine her feeling very sad and hollow, and understandably so. She'd be devastated that she'd never get to meet her child. But I think a lot of the sadness would also come from a place of, 'this is the only good thing Gojo has done for me.' and 'I've suffered through this relationship for my baby, for nothing.' she's repeatedly allowed him to cheat on her because she's fallen in love with him and she wanted to have a family with him. Since he is the one who got her pregnant and he was the one who proposed to her. She was just hoping things would change and get better and she really thought a baby would be the catalyst of that change.

However, I think it would be enough for the reader to finally have the courage to leave. She does love him but that is the only reason she'd stay with him after losing the baby, but it's not a good enough reason. He's put her through hell and manipulated and gaslit her to the point she barely recognises herself and I really do think losing the baby would be her 'enough is enough' moment. And, ironically, I think losing the baby would be the point in which Gojo changes too.

I think he'd legitimately want to be with her. He wanted to marry her because of the baby but he fell in love with her as she had him and I know it would break his heart to have lost his baby too. He was so excited to be a dad after the shock of them realising she was pregnant. He immediately stepped up for the baby but not for her. He decorated a room in his penthouse to be a nursery and he was present for every scan, reading baby books in his spare time and being there for anything the reader needed to do baby wise. But he just couldn't stop himself from filling in a piece of himself with random and casual sex. He knew it was wrong and he didn't stop because he knew the reader was practically baby trapped.

But the baby wasn't a pawn to him, ever. So I think the devastation that only those two were experiencing and hurting over at the same time would really make him realise 'this is my forever person and I want to be with her only.' but it's too late.

She's been hurt time and time again by him but now she's feeling the worst pain of her life and what he's done doesn't compare. She'd move out and Gojo would undoubtedly spend extended time trying to get her back.

Sorry this was so long but I hope it answered your question!

#luxe mail 💰 #tw suicide #tw miscarriage #tw adultery #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #tw baby trapping #thank you for sending this ask #i was legit saying to bambi the other day i wish i got more asks like this #like... please guys ask me questions about my fics and my aus 😭😭 #it would make me v v happy <3 #anyway yah thank u nonnie bb have a nice day and take care #mwah mwah <3