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piedinthepiper · 7 months

Text

You owe me ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader

Summary: It’s your job to help people, but is he really suffering? At least it’s a case of the crazy and obsessive syndrome.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dub con, guilt tripping, description of murder and crime, mention of stalking, cursing, weapons (one singular gun), mention of male masturbation, descriptive smut, probably wrong use of psychological terms (oopsie)

Wc: 6.9k

A/n: This is my first post on my bts fic blog! If you like it please show your support! Don’t be a silent reader! My requests are open, share your ideas!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I am not a licensed psychologist! Everything related to psychology in this fic is off Google, do not use this to diagnose yourself or anyone else!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

He clutched the gun close to his chest. Hiding it under his pyjamas. His fathers words ringing in the back of his mind. “Your brother is too soft for this industry, but you son, you’re my perfect descendant.”

He walked into his family’s suite. It was dark, except for one light in the living room. His mother sat there head propped up on her hand reading a book.

“What are you doing up so late, baby?”

She asked, putting the book down in her lap and taking off her reading glasses. He looked over at the white sofa placed next to the large windows. His brother was sleeping there peacefully. Not aware of his presence.

“I let your brother sleep in the living room tonight. His nightmares have returned.”

She continued when he didn’t answer her. He slowly turned his eyes towards his mother again.

“Weak.”

He answered lowly. Her look turned concerned.

“Is something wrong, baby?

His eyes continued to stare at her. He didn’t move a muscle, not yet.

“You know I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”

She continued when he yet again didn’t answer. There was a sturdiness to her voice now. The kind of sturdiness mothers have before scolding you. He started smiling. Not in a sweet innocent way. Not in the way 11 year olds should. But in a sinister and dark way. His hand moved out of his pyjamas top. She looked at the object in his hand.

“Drop that gun right now, Jungkook!”

A scream. Three shots. And silence.

15 years later

“Your patient is here.”

Your assistant, Erin, said through the slightly ajar door to your office. You looked up from your lunch. Quickly glancing over at the stationary computer to check the time.

“I don’t have an appointment. Not in another thirty minutes.”

Erin looked back to the waiting room before slowly stepping inside the office. Closing the door quietly behind her. She walked closer to you.

“He’s been sitting here for an hour already. I told him his appointment wasn’t until 1 pm. He just said ‘I know’ and sat down.”

She hurriedly whispered afraid of whoever was sitting out there.

“Please, Erin. Don’t act like he’s crazy. Send him in, I’ll eat later.”

She gave you a look before holding up two fingers. The signal that the two of you created. Working as a psychologist you meet with all sorts of people. Even criminals. The signal signalised that she would call the police if you hit the button that called directly to the front desk.

“Stop it, there will be no need to call the police. He’s harmless.”

“If you say so.”

She shrugged and walked out the door. The next time it opened a familiar figure entered.

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”

“You’re early Mr. Jeon.”

You had been treating Jungkook Jeon for a little over a month now. And you had come to the conclusion that he had PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. After he had witnessed a series of murders and crimes during his childhood. He was vague about the past, but a few things came out here and there. You only knew about his absent father and that his brother and mother had both been killed. No description of how or when. Which is common at first. It’s hard to re-live your trauma.

“I’m sorry I disturbed your lunch. Just eat, I don’t mind.”

He said as he sat down in the white sofa across your desk. You gave him a small smile as you reached into your drawer.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll eat after our session.”

You said as you fished his file up and opened it on you desk. You quickly read your notes from the last session as you continued talking.

“How are you doing? Still having nightmares?”

You looked up from the file maintaining eye contact as he answered your question.

“Sometimes, but not as often as before. I dream of you instead now.”

His eyes never left yours as he bit his lip, playing with his piercing he had there. You nodded.

“How often do you dream about me? And what are the dreams about?”

You asked as you scribbled it down in your notes.

“Every now and then they occur. Especially after our sessions. Or after I read your books. You’re a good writer Dr. y/l/n.”

He started smiling. His smile wasn’t sweet, it was different from how he had smiled at you before.

“As for what they’re about, I don’t think you’d want to know, Doctor.”

You tried concealing your confusion at his last statement. Curiosity taking over you.

“Dreaming about people you frequently surround yourself with is not uncommon. If you don’t like to talk about it we don’t have to. I would just like to know if they’re good or bad dreams.”

He nodded, still not breaking his smile nor the eye contact.

“Oh they’re good, Doctor. Don’t worry.”

You smiled back at him.

“That’s good to know. I’m glad to hear your nightmares are slowly being changed with good dreams.”

It went silent for a moment as you wrote down the good news. When you looked up again he wasn’t looking at you anymore, and for some reason you felt relived. His eyes were big and doe like, and when they focused on you for too long you would sometimes feel uneasy. You wondered so what those eyes had experiences in the past.

“What about your sudden outbreaks, are you able to control your anger better?”

He focused on you again the second he heard your voice. His smile returned.

“Sort of, I’ve been letting out the aggression in the gym, after you adviced me to try to stay active. I’ve started boxing.”

You smiled and nodded, writing down boxing in your notes.

“That’s good to hear. It seems that you’re getting better Mr. Jeon, much b-“

“Jungkook, call me Jungkook.”

He interrupted. You stopped and looked at him for a second.

“And no, I’m not cured. I still need you.”

You slowly nodded.

“Well there is no cure for your diagnosis, it’s a matter of being at peace with living with it. But I can understand that you still have things you would want to talk about. Maybe you would like to open up to me about your past?”

The room grew quiet. His eyes now focused on his hands in his lap. His demeanour changed completely.

“I have told you about my past. If I didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to diagnose me in the first place.”

He answered with a bit of underlaying annoyance. You sighed. Something felt off, but you couldn’t figure out what.

“You have told me some parts yes. If you want to go more in detail you can, I’m not forcing you. As your psychologist I would advise talking about it with me. It could be nice to have an outsiders perspective.”

You said in a soft tone. Trying to get your point across at the same time as being gentle. You didn’t want him to feel pressured or as if he had to say anything. When he didn’t open his mouth you understood you crossed his personal line of what he feels fit for you to know. You spoke after almost a minute with silence.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to. You can think about-“

“You’re a smart one.”

He interrupted you again. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“That’s why I like you. You know to some extent what is going on inside my head. I could never do that. I never know what is going on inside your head. If you think I’m weak or even crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy nor weak. It’s not your job to know what is going on inside my head. But it is my job to know what’s going on inside yours.”

He nodded before patting the sofa seat beside him.

“Come here.”

He simply said. You don’t know why, but you had a bad feeling in your stomach. He was acting differently today, compared to other sessions. Either way you got up from your chair, knowing that doing what he said would get you an insight of what you wanted to know. You slowly walked around your desk and sat down in the small sofa next to him. You crossed your legs trying your best not to get too close to him, but he seemed to man spread even more. Making your thighs touch. You placed your notebook in your lap, ready to write down exactly what he told you. He took a hold of your wrist.

“You’re not writing this down, Doctor. I need your full attention.”

It was the first time he had touched you, beside the first time you met when you shook hands. It made you think that you usually never have any sort of physical contact with your patients. Maybe that’s exactly what they need. What he needs to open up to you. You put your notebook down, and continued holding his hand. He looked down at your hands intertwining. Your smooth small hand was a sharp contrast to his bigger tattooed one.

“Tell me whatever you feel comfortable with telling me.”

You said to get his attention back to reality. He went quiet for a few seconds.

“I grew up in a hotel. It was a nice hotel, four stars, good breakfast. My father was almost never home, I didn’t mind though. I had my mother and my brother there. It was perfect in the beginning.”

He stopped. You looked down at his hand, it was shaking. You started drawing small circles at the back of his hand. Trying to calm him down. He looked down at your hands again.

“One night when I was sleeping I was woken up by a loud bang. The door to our home was broken down. A man entered and started shooting. My brother was still sleeping on the sofa and died instantly. My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder.”

He looked into your eyes.

“But he shot her in the head.”

You nodded, looking down at the floor. You knew he was looking at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes in that moment.

“Did you find out who that man was? Why he would do such a thing.”

He went quiet again at your question. His grip on your hand tightened, as if what he was going to say would make you pull away.

“He was a mobster. Like my father. After the incident he trained me as the next leader of his group. I was 11.”

You looked at him. His childhood was worse than you thought, but he wasn’t saying all this as if it was a traumatic experience. It seemed like he was bragging about it. You would have to go through your notes and his file after work to see if there was something you were missing about him. You couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.

“Thank you for telling me.”

You smiled at him. He looked back at you with those big eyes. You looked at the watch on your wrist. The session was over.

“Look at the time.”

You were about to let go of his hand to get up from the sofa. But he grabbed you harder. Forcing you to sit still.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon. But our session is over-“

“I’ve told you to call me Jungkook.”

“Jungkook, I have other patients today as well. We can continue this next week.”

You tried to assure him. He still didn’t let go.

“I’ve never told anyone about this, and you decide to end the session this quickly?”

You grabbed his hand with your other hand as well.

“You know I usually don’t end sessions like this. But I can’t let my other patients wait. You’re free to sit in the waiting room for as long as you want to.”

He frowned at your comment, but relaxed his hand nonetheless. You got off the sofa and walked to your desk again. Before you could say anything else he got up from the sofa and hastily walked out the door. Slamming it shut behind him.

You had two more patients that day. You waved goodbye to your last patient of the day, a young girl named Olive Thomson who was suffering from severe anxiety, as she walked through the door. You got up from your chair and collected your things. You turned off the computer and the light. You made sure to lock the door as you always do. The only thing you had to do now was say goodbye to Erin by the front desk, and you could go home. You walked into the waiting room.

“Finally.”

You turned to find the owner of the voice, as it was clearly not Erin’s.

“Mr. Jeon what are you doing here?”

You asked as you looked at the man seated in one of the waiting chairs.

“I told him he had to leave, I promise.”

You heard Erin whisper behind you.

“You said I could sit here for as long as I wanted to, Doctor. And please, just call me Jungkook.”

He was clearly upset. You remembered your words from earlier, but you didn’t think he would spend almost four hours just sitting there.

“I did, you’re right. I’m leaving now, Erin will be here for another two hours. But after that we’re closed.”

He got up from the chair.

“I was waiting for you.”

He simply said.

“I’m sorry our session ended so brutally, but I promise we’ll talk about it next week.”

You said and patted his shoulder as you walked past him towards the exit.

“Goodbye, Erin!”

You said as you made your way outside. The wind was cold and you clutched your coat closer to you as you walked towards your car.

“The least you can do is eat with me.”

He had followed you outside. You turned to look at him.

“I’m not that hungry, I just want to go home.”

You was going to open your car door, but his hand suddenly blocked the door. You were about to cuss him out. Tired of his antics.

“You haven’t eaten all day, I hardly doubt that one bite you had for lunch filled you up.”

He sounded threatening, something he had started to do recently.

“I just want to hear your thoughts on what I said. Don’t you think you owe me that? Or do I have to wait a week and dread finding out your opinion of me?”

He was desperate, you could see it. What he was saying was true. He would walk around overthinking for the next week and his health could worsen. You had to take action according to your diagnosis.

“Ok, I’ll eat with you.”

The two of you were sitting at some restaurant. The lights were low and to everyone around you, the two of you looked like a couple on a date. This was obviously not something you would do with your patients, you like to keep things professional. Something about this whole situation felt anything but professional.

“Get whatever you want, my treat.”

He said deeply focused on the menu. You shook your head.

“No thank you, I can pay for my own food.”

You answered.

“I’m the one responsible for you not being able to eat your lunch right? You owe me this meeting and I owe you food. Two birds with one stone.”

You sighed when you didn’t have a rebuttal. The two of you ordered, and the silence grew more and more awkward.

“I’m sorry again, Mr. Jeon I’m-“

“Jungkook. Please y/n! Just call me Jungkook!”

He was clearly upset now. You were a bit taken aback from the sudden use of your first name. He had never called you by your first name before. And the feeling of the professionalism fading away became more apparent.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember your request.”

“Say it. Say my name.”

For some reason you didn’t feel like you had it in you. It felt so strange to call a patient by their name, the same way it felt weird to be called your name by a patient.

“Jungkook.”

You managed to get it out, but you couldn’t look him in the eye saying it. The food luckily came quickly, you were starving. Plus it saved you from whatever he was going to answer. You decided to take the lead. Wanting to stay on track for the actual reason you said yes to join him.

“You said your father was a mobster. Do you know if he’s still living that lifestyle? Do you have any contact with him?”

You asked after taking a big bite of your pasta. Jungkook swallowed before answering your question.

“My father is dead. He’s been dead for 7 years now.”

A question came to mind, but you didn’t know if you dared ask him. You remember he said his father trained him to the life of crime at a young age. For him to take over his fathers legacy. With his father gone he would be next in line to whatever group his father had built. He got the image. Tattoos, piercings, the black clothes. But you couldn’t imagine him being a mafia boss. Maybe it was some sort of stereotype that strong, tough men don’t go to the psychologist. But you were starting to rethink his intentions.

“You’re thinking about something.”

You looked up from your food. He was staring at you.

“Look at you, you do have the ability to understand my mind.”

You said lightheartedly. He chuckled.

“I think you’re brave. Not many people survive the kind of neglect and trauma you’ve experienced in your childhood.”

You said, trying to give him an answer for his entire life story. He nodded and suddenly reached for your hand across the table. You jumped, but didn’t remove your hand. You didn’t want to make a scene with this many people around.

“I’m fine, y/n. I think the only cure I need is you.”

His statement combined with his eyes staring into your soul, gave you chills down your back. Something was off about him. You had to ask. You just had to.

“When your father died, did you…?”

He smiled. The same sinister smile he smiled at you earlier that day.

“I did. I took over his legacy. Me and my father were actually great friends the years before he died. Not that I cared for him. I don’t think I’ve ever cared for anyone in my entire life.”

Another shot of chills froze your body at his statement. You had overlooked it this entire time. His calm demeanour, his tendency to physically violence, his intelligence and charisma and now his lack of empathy. He didn’t suffer from PTSD, he had been lying this entire time.

“At least not until I met you.”

He interrupted your thoughts. You pulled your hand out of his quickly. You took a deep breath trying to compose yourself.

“That’s nonsense. You must’ve cared for your mother.”

He shrugged.

“Not really, she wasn’t exactly the best mother.”

“You don’t really have those nightmares do you?”

You asked, looking at him. It took him a few seconds to answer. Probably contemplating if he should continue his lies or tell the truth.

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t really have a problem with your mother or brother dying either right?”

He let out a small laugh.

“I just told you.”

“Just answer me.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek and leaned forward onto the table.

“What is this? Are you trying to diagnose me, Doctor?”

He said mockingly.

“Answer me.”

You commanded. He sighed and started smiling at you again.

“Everyone has to die at some point. Doesn’t matter when or how.”

You nodded. Your instinct was true.

“You don’t have PTSD, you have ASPD.”

He licked his lips and cocked his head.

“And what does that mean, Doctor?”

“You’re a sociopath.”

He looked taken aback from your bluntness for a second. He probably wasn’t expecting you to crack his code.

“You’ve lied this entire time for your own personal gain. I must admit your acting was really good. But my question is, what do you want?”

He was quiet for a second. You knew he was fighting a war on the inside.

“I really underestimated you y/n. I knew you were smart, but personally I don’t think PhDs make a person smart by default. You’ve really proven yourself to me.”

“My efforts were not made to impress you. You think too highly of yourself Mr. Jeon.”

His gaze switched, you had aggravated him. Not only by calling him by his last name, but by attacking his self image.

“Why don’t you come home with me, we can continue our conversation there.”

You shook your head, and arranged the cutlery neatly by the side of your half empty plate.

“I do not go home with patients, and I definitely do not go home with mobsters. You have already challenged my professionalism by taking me out to eat.”

He smirked.

“What if I stop being your patient? In all honesty I don’t really need your advice, Doctor.”

You grabbed your bag and got up from your seat.

“In all honesty I think you do. We will continue this conversation in my office next week. Good night Mr. Jeon.”

With that you walked away from the table. Not looking back.

The next few days you were on edge. Constantly overthinking everything that had happened that day with Jungkook. You almost wanted to call in sick. Terrified of what would happen next. But regardless of that you had to continue working. You couldn’t let your other patients get affected by whatever was going on with you. You said goodbye to Mrs. Humphrey. An elderly woman that had fallen into depression after her husband had passed. Once the door closed you fetched your lunch out of your bag. You didn’t feel like eating, but you knew you had to. If not your energy would be drained at the end of the day. After the first bite you started hearing noises outside. Erin was almost yelling outside your door. You stood up, wanting to investigate what the commotion was. Before you could take one step the door swung open. And there he stood, your nightmare for the last couple of days.

“I told him you were busy, Dr. y/l/n! I told him he couldn’t enter!”

Erin said hopelessly behind him. He was soaking wet from the rain. His hair plastered itself to his forehead. And his black shirt did the same to his abdomen. He didn’t move, he was just staring at you with a furious look in his eyes.

“It’s fine, Erin. I’ll handle this.”

Erin looked at Jungkook worriedly before looking back to you. She held up two fingers. You nodded, and she left.

“Sit.”

You said, as you yourself sat down behind your desk. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t sit down. He continued to lure near the door.

“You interrupt my lunch again, I don’t want this to become a habit.”

“Please, spear me the bullshit.”

He said, and you went quiet. Wanting him to say whatever he came here for.

“How did you do it?”

He said after some time. You looked confused at him. Not understanding what he was referring to.

“Did what?”

You asked in almost a sharp tone. You were annoyed. He let out a small laugh, it almost sounded like a sneer.

“You’re cute when you’re angry with me.”

He started slowly walking towards you.

“But I need to know how you did it, y/n.”

He stopped once he reached the end of your desk. You looked up at him.

“What did I do?”

You ask again. He puts his palms on the table and lean closer to you. You don’t move, trying to prove to him and yourself that you’re not scared.

“You figured out a side of me I never understood I had. If I, the person that’s bearing this disease didn’t know. How come you knew?”

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. He was clearly distressed. Maybe even more than what you had been for the last days. And for some reason it pleased you.

“I told you, this is what I do. This is my job.”

You could tell he was conflicted in what to do next. You could practically see the way the wheels were turning inside his head. But eventually he sat down.

“I studied the human mind for six years to be able to understand things not even you are aware of.”

He scowled at you as you talked to him in a harsh tone.

“I’ve done research, and I’ve written books about this, that you have read may I add. What made you think that I wasn’t capable?”

He didn’t answer. The two of you just stared at each other.

“This is not a session, I demand answers, Jungkook.”

His eyes lit up when he heard his name fall off your tongue.

“Like I said, I underestimated you.”

He answered short.

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

You stated. He looked confused at you.

“The question from the other night. What do you want?”

He started laughing. You did not find it funny, and watched him as his fit of laughter died down.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious! You’re telling me that you were able to diagnose me with some bullshit, while I was pretending to be something else. But you’re not able to see the fact that I want you.”

The room got quiet. For the first time in a long time you felt completely speechless. He moved to get up from the sofa, but stopped the second he saw you roll your chair further away from him. He could tell you were afraid now, there was no point in acting tough.

“Come here.”

He said with a smirk and patted his thigh this time. There was still fight in you though.

“You’re disgusting.”

You uttered. He sneered at your comment.

“You’ve exploited me for your own satisfaction this entire time.”

You looked strictly at him, as he sighed.

“What was I supposed to do? You’re constantly on my mind. Day and night. And it’s awful!”

“That’s called an obsession.”

“I know what it’s called!”

He bit back. You went quiet, waiting for him to give you more information.

“The only way I can get a break is after i come to the thought of you. It usually takes around three times until I’m too tired to think of you.”

You couldn’t hide your disgust from your facial expression anymore. Looking at him as if he was a rat on the street.

“And then I thought if that helps, the real deal would help even more.”

He got up from the sofa now. You stayed seated, your hand slowly moving across your desk towards the telephone.

“I need you, y/n.”

You broke eye contact and looked down to hit the right number for the front desk. Jungkook quickly understood what happened and pushed the stationary phone off the desk. It fell to the floor with a bang, breaking it on impact. You got up quickly, wanting to distance yourself from him.

“How did you know? About the phone, about me. We never met before our sessions. Why? I don’t understand.”

You blurted out in pure stress of the situation. He smiled as he started walking towards the side of the desk. You walked the other way, wanting to keep the desk between the two of you. He chuckled.

“You’re cute when you’re confused too.”

You continued walking backwards. Trying to keep as much distance from him, while he tries to close it.

“I’ve followed you for a long time, baby. A very long time.”

The two of you had walked an entire round around the desk now. He jumped down onto the sofa again. His hand gracing the sofa cushions beside him.

“Do you want to know the full story?”

You knew what he was hinting at. Your entire body was screaming not to get anywhere near him. But you needed to know. He didn’t have anything to hold back now, you were certain he would tell you the truth. So you walked towards the sofa, carefully sitting down beside him. You took a second to compose yourself before looking at him. Signalising that’s you were ready. He smiled.

“I have known you since we both were children. Your father was my brothers shrink. He´s the one that had PTSD. I saw you for the first time in the hotel lobby after your father had finished his session with my brother. You were maybe 6 and sat there for so long, waiting for your father to return. When I saw you, I knew we were meant to be. We were soulmates. And for the first time in my life I felt something for someone.”

He grabbed your hand. You quickly out of reflex tried to wiggle yourself out of his grip. He tugged your hand harshly towards him and your entire upper body followed. Without your hand to catch you, you fell straight into his chest. His other hand sneaked around your waist as you composed yourself.

“Let me go.”

You said annoyed, placing your hand on his chest to keep a distance.

“If you want to hear the rest, you have to play by my rules, baby.”

His eyes focused on your lips as he whispered to you. You shook your head.

“I don’t need to know the rest. I can make out the sob story on my own. Boy falls in love, boy doesn’t get girl.”

He shook his head and let go of your waist. You quickly sat back up, brushing off imaginary dust from your lap.

“You should show me some respect.”

He said with a serious tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your eyebrows.

“I’m not scared of you.”

He chuckled at your comment, placing his hand around the back of the sofa.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me either. I just think that you should show the man you owe your life to some respect.”

He touched your shoulder, drawing small circles on your jumper.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

He smirked.

“Oh, but you do. I made you the person you are today. Without me you wouldn’t be here.”

You sighed tiredly at him.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You got up from your seat and walked back to your desk. Starting to pack up your stuff. You were so done with him. He needed help, but you would no longer treat him. You decided as much.

“I need to get out of here, if you’re not gone when I’m back I’ll call the police.”

You put your bag over your shoulder, ready to walk away.

“How did you get into Yale, Doctor?”

He asked out of the blue. You stopped in your tracks.

“What? Why?”

He shrugged.

“Just seems so weird that someone with your grades would be able to attend any Ivy League school. Don’t you agree?”

You went quiet. Not knowing where he wanted this conversation to go.

“And don’t you think it’s weird how you always got A’s even when you were out partying instead of studying?”

You thought back to the years when you were studying. You originally did only apply to Yale just because your father went there. You didn’t think you actually was going to make it, because your grades were mediocre.

“What are you saying?”

“You have no idea how many people I had to blackmail to get you there. How many men I had follow you constantly. How many professors I had to bribe to make them give you a good grade. I’ve spent millions on you, y/n!”

Your mind was racing. You didn’t understand anything. Was your entire life a lie?

“I have to give it to you. Your first book made it without my help. But when you came out with your second book, and it wasn’t a success right away. I bought almost half the copies and payed a hefty amount of money to make it a New York Times best seller.”

You dropped your bag in awe. What he was saying made a lot of sense. You started rethinking every significant moment in your life. Wondering if he was behind it all. He got up from his seat and started moving towards you. But this time you didn’t step back. You let him come close to you.

“I’ve done so much for you, baby. Why are you so ungrateful?”

You looked up at him. He was now standing right in front of you. So close that you could almost feel his breath on your skin.

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this. You can’t keep me in debt for something I-“

You struggled with continuing the sentence. The reality of his words hit you, and your tears threatened to spill.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m not asking for much, considering what I’ve given you.”

He whispered calmly. His hands found your waist. He took one step closer to you and placed his forehead against yours.

“All I want is you, right here on this sofa, showing me how grateful you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tears in anymore, letting them slowly drip down your cheeks. One of his hands abandoned your waist to wipe away the hot tears on your cheek. You looked into his eyes as he continued to hold your face.

“If I do it, will you leave me alone?”

His eyes focus on your lips and how close you were. He had never been this close to you.

“I can never leave you. You’re my soulmate.”

He simply answered. You looked down at the floor.

“Jungkook, you’re delusional. You have to stop.”

“How can I stop? Huh? You’re the only one that matters in my life!”

You continued looking at the floor, even when he pushed himself off you in his fit of rage.

“I fucking love you!”

You shook your head, looking up at him this time.

“You don’t love me! You don’t even know me! You’ve created this illusion in your head that we are meant to be, but we’re not!”

You yelled back at him angrily.

“You’ve interfered in my life when I didn’t ask you to! You don’t have the right to do that!”

“And where would you be without me?”

He argued back.

“You act like you don’t care! But you know that without my help you wouldn’t be anything. You would’ve been a nobody.”

His words stung. What he was saying was the truth. The hard truth. You would have never made it to college. Never gotten this job. Never been a successful author. Never followed in your fathers footsteps and made him proud. You heard Jungkook sigh.

“I’m sorry baby, but it’s the truth.”

He said dejectedly. You took a deep breath. Realising what you had to do.

“I’ll do it.”

You simply said and met his eyes.

“I’ll have sex with you once, but after this I need you to stop.”

“Baby-“

“Listen to me! I’ll find you another psychologist. I want you to go to there and get help. When your treatment is over-“

You stopped for a second. Contemplating if you wanted to commit to the promise you were about to make.

“I’ll meet you again. To talk. I can’t promise you more than that.”

His eyes lit up and he swiftly lifted you in a hug. Letting out small sounds of excitement and shaking you around a little. You couldn’t help but smile at his boyish action. After a moment he put you down again, but continued to hold your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you say, baby. I’ll do anything for you.”

Your hands found his strong chest. You kept the eye contact, but your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to his lips for a split second. And that’s all he needed to kiss you. It started slow, but quickly got hotter. Your hands slid around his neck, unconsciously pulling him deeper into the kiss. He stepped backwards. You were taken aback by the sudden movement, but followed his lead. He guided the two of you to the sofa. The same sofa he had sat in every time he came to your sessions. He broke the kiss to jump down on the sofa. He looked up at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. He had been waiting for this for many years, and finally he had you. He reached out for you as you straddled his lap, feeling his already hard cock between the fabric of your trousers. His hands moved down to your ass. Grabbing it the second he had a chance, and letting out a satisfied groan. You reached down to the hem of your top and pulled it off.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

He said with half lidded eyes as he watched your bare skin. You smirked at his comment and reached for his shirt as well. He lifted his back off the sofa to help you get it off. Once it was off you started examining his tattoos. Tracing his arm with your finger all the way up to his shoulder. You stopped once you saw the little circular scar. Your entire body froze as you remembered his words from your last session. “My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder. But he shot her in the head.”. He looked at you confused for a second, before he looked at his shoulder where your eyes were glued. He understood what you were thinking.

“You killed your family.”

You said and looked back at him. He was already shaking his head.

“The man was you. You killed them.”

You tried to get up from his lap, suddenly scared of the killer you were straddling. But he held you down with a strong grip.

“Baby calm down, let me explain.”

You continued to struggle. Not listening to his words.

“Y/n!”

He suddenly screamed. Getting your attention. He sighed.

“I didn’t kill them.”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

You started struggling again, now hitting his chest as well. He quickly flipped the two of you. Pushing you down onto the sofa with his own body weight. Holding your wrists harshly.

“So what if I killed them? It doesn’t take away from the fact that you still owe me this!”

He looked dangerous on top of you like that. A single tear fell down the side of your cheek. He was right yet again. He kissed you tenderly. It was a sharp contrast to the tone in his voice.

“You still owe me your body.”

He started kissing down your neck. Eagerly taking one of your boobs in his hand. His crotch grinded against you for a second before you heard him curse under his breath.

“I’ll have to taste you another time. I can’t fucking wait any longer to be inside you.”

He started working on your jeans. Ripping them off in a hasty speed together with your panties. He quickly loosened his belt and repeated the action on himself. His cock sprung free, but you weren’t able to look at it for more than a second before he lifted your legs over his shoulders and pushed into you. The two of you moaned in unison. He was big, but he took little to no time for you to adjust, as he started thrusting into you with brutal force.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He moaned, stopping his motion to spit on your pussy. Using it as lubricant. He continued quickly after. Moans and heavy breathing filled your office as the two of you strived to reach your orgasms. He reached down and started rubbing your clit. Almost overstimulating you.

“I’ve waited for this for so long, baby. You feel better than I ever imagined.”

You felt a familiar knot building in your lower stomach. The rapid speed of his hands and the stretching of his cock making you come closer to release quicker than ever.

“I need to come inside you. I need to fill you up, baby.”

You nodded. Not knowing or caring what you said yes to. You were already on cloud nine and needed him to continue whatever he was doing.

“Say my name.”

You understood he was close, and you were too.

“Jungkook!”

You moaned as your orgasm washed over you. You legs clenched around him, and your hands found his arms. Digging your nails into his skin. He came the second he heard his name escape your mouth. He let you ride out your orgasm, before he fell on top of you. You felt his breath go back to normal as he nuzzled into your neck. The two of you laid there in serenity for a while. Just feeling each others heartbeats and listening to each others breathing.

He would do as you told him. He would go see someone. He would do whatever it took to have you like that again. He would never let you go. You owed him this after all.

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

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dollfacefantasy · 3 months

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Time to Kill

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: during a night out at a club, you bump into a bounty hunter who has some time to kill.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, heavy dub-con, p in v, fingering, degradation, size kink, public sex, biting, mentions of murder, violence, death, guns, crime, etc.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i will be back to RE after this i just wanted to try something new :) reblogs and comments mean the world <3 for @nexysworld and @kaitkatme cause they put me on jjk and i love them.

“Watch it, bounty hunter,” you scoff, eyes shooting a glare up at the guy who bumped into you and nearly knocked you down.

He returns your sneer with his own, staring down at you with condescending irritation. The fact that he towers over you is almost enough to make you regret the jab, but you bank on being in a crowded nightclub to keep you safe.

His hair hangs down into his eyes, making it harder to see his expression in the already dark hall. Regardless, you feel his gaze raking over your curves before fixating on your face.

“Maybe you should watch it, princess,” he responds. Even his voice sounded skeevy.

The unaffected smirk on his face doesn’t elude you either despite the dim lighting. You roll your eyes and snake past him, brushing the confrontation off in hopes of still enjoying your night. Your first move is going back to the bar and downing a few more drinks. Then you make your way back to the main area to dance.

Your hips sway to the blaring music while the lights overhead bathe your skin in a red tint. The music pounds in the ground beneath you, up through your legs and into your heart. You let your head fall back and get lost in the sound of the drums. Everyone around you seems to be doing the same, bobbing to the rhythm. A sea of strangers moving together.

But as all that happens in your vicinity, you can still feel a set of eyes on you. You sense that same gaze from the hall, watching you as if you were prey ready to be pounced on. Acting as if you’re still moving purely to the song, you twist your head to the side and look around. As you expect, you catch his focus and with him in a brief stare.

You keep moving though, trying to ignore it. Maybe he was still pissy. Maybe he was bored. Either way, it really wasn’t any of your concern. He was none of your business beyond the altercation in the hall. And in your defense, you didn’t even actually know that he was a bounty hunter. You’d only heard rumors about him, the guy with the scar on his lip. He just had that look about him.

It didn’t really matter. The liquor was starting to get to your head. You felt less stable on your feet as you moved your body in between the others making up the crowd. Everything was bright and loud, the seams on your top were scratchy, and your head was swimming.

You begin pushing through people, stumbling towards the bathroom as you need a reprieve from all the action. Your attention is on not tripping or breaking your ankle in the tall shoes you wore, so you don’t notice his figure slithering through the room alongside you.

You walk down that same hallway you’d run into him the first time. Teetering back and forth, you push open the bathroom door. Two stalls stand opposite from the door with a mirror and a set of sinks next to them. You shuffle in towards the countertops, both palms landing on the cool surface. There’s red neon lights in the bathroom too. You have to squint while staring at your reflection.

As you glance over yourself, you realize your sleeve is slipping off your shoulder, and your skirt is a little twisted out of place. You adjust your outfit before leaning closer to the mirror for further inspection. You’re shimmery with a light sheen of sweat, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now. Instead you pull out your lipgloss and swipe it across your pout with a few lazy strokes.

You’re busy tending to your appearance when the door behind you flies open. Your eyes flit to the reflection of the man who walked in. It was that guy. He looked even larger in the confined space of the bathroom. The red lighting shines directly on him, highlighting how his arms bulge as they emerge from his shirt, the way the fabric sits tight on his defined torso. To be real, he was starting to grow on you. But that must have been the drinks talking.

“Wrong bathroom, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes. The drinks were responsible for that line too, dulling the fear that would have overtaken your nerves earlier.

“The other bathroom doesn’t have you in it, does it?” he asks, slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him.

He’s still against the wall parallel to the mirror. You eye him curiously, not making any sudden moves. In sober circumstances, you would be absolutely terrified. Your heart would be pounding, vision blurry, and hands shaking with anxiety at the prospect of a strange guy cornering you in the bathroom. But right now, you just had a muted uncertainty in the pit of your stomach.

“What do you want with me?” you ask, attempting to seem unamused, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“It’s cute that you think that’s even a possibility,” he responds.

A smirk rises on his face as he steps closer to you. You can nearly feel his body against your back. His face remains clearly visible in the mirror as he stands at least an entire head higher than you. It was obvious from the start, but at this proximity, it was impossible to escape how big he was. Chills erupt across your skin as his hands coast up your arms and rest on your shoulders.

“You weren’t far off the mark before anyways,” he says.

You try to shrug him off, but his hands stay firmly in place. His eyes are locked onto your body, his current target. You were getting a little more jittery, but it wasn’t totally out of fear. Your fingers fumble as you jam your lip gloss back into your clutch.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you reply.

Beyond the strange mixture of emotions inside you, this conversation begins to grow annoying. Remarks that brush past each other instead of making direct hits. And he’s still so fucking smug. It's grating. Apparently your displeasure is visible since he chuckles and runs his fingertips down your jawline.

“Aw, look at that face,” he mocks, fingers coming up to hold your jaw, “Good to know you’re cute while pouting too.”

“What do you want?” you ask with more anger. You try to pry his hand away from your chin, but his grip is tight. There’s no getting it off.

“Impatient,” he chides, though his eyes don’t hold any irritation, “I just thought I’d check on you. Isn’t really safe for a girl like you to wander off all alone. Someone may want to take advantage.”

You try to turn around to push him away, but his hips have yours pinned to the countertop.

“Lucky for you, I have some time to kill before my real work starts,” he says.

His other hand drifts up to your chest, digits lightly dragging over your right breast, slowly moving closer and closer to the center. You hate your body in that moment for the way your nipples instinctively stiffen up beneath your top. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least he doesn’t point it out if he does.

“My nerves go crazy before a hit, y’know? I could use some stress relief,” he purrs in your ear, “Judging by how riled up you get, I think you could too.”

A shiver shoots up your spine while arousal simultaneously swirls between your legs. You glare at him through the reflection, but there’s no physical resistance this time. He was really growing on you now. He was pissing you off for sure, but it was starting to circle around to the point where you wanted to take out that rage in a more carnal manner. It doesn’t help when he continues speaking.

“The way you were dancing, I know you wanted someone to notice. Showing that tight ass off, just begging for some attention. Well, you have all of mine now,” he breathes, punctuating his statement with a light smack on your backside.

Heat creeps up your neck as he speaks. It was difficult to prevent yourself from being flustered in these circumstances, but you couldn’t just give in to this shithead. You had to still have some fight in you, right? Trying to keep your voice as firm as possible, you challenge him. “I don’t want it.”

With that simple statement, you jab your elbow back into his abdomen, allowing you to spin around. But that’s all you can do because he acts as if the move didn’t hurt him at all. His hand comes back to your jaw with a harsher grasp. Still despite the rough movements, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by your attempts at rejection.

“Too bad,” he states simply. He boosts you up onto the counter, using your neck as leverage. He slots himself between your legs to keep them spread and maintains eye contact the whole time. “Pretty little brat like you needs someone to show you your place.”

His hand delves between your thighs, pressing against your panties. He watches you closely as he strokes you over the fabric. You tense up a bit at first, a shaky breath exiting your lungs. It felt good obviously, but it was still weird. And on top of that, you couldn’t understand why he wasn’t just getting to the point and taking what he wanted.

He registers the confusion on your face and leans down closer to you. His breath fans across your neck. You can feel his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m not in a rush,” he says simply, “Got some time before my guy gets here. Rather play with you for a bit longer than wait around out there.”

He continues rubbing you through the cloth that separates your skin. He’s breathing heavier as he speeds up his movements, inhaling the scent of your perfume mixed with the liquor you’d both had. A breathy whine leaves you as his middle finger flicks over your clit. You hear him hum in approval before he lowers his head more and lays some sloppy kisses on your neck. He leaves some love bites, more to occupy himself than anything else. His teeth nip at the skin while his tongue laves over the mini bruises.

You’re starting to soak through your underwear. He knows it. He can feel it. The lacy fabric clings to your folds more, letting him feel more of you. A sharp puff of hot air comes from his nostrils, sending a chill over you as it hits the wet skin on your throat.

“You’ve been aching for this since your little tantrum, haven’t you? Probably could’ve fucked you right out there in front of everyone, and you wouldn’t have said a word. Except maybe ‘more,’” he says, his voice low and smooth with his own arousal.

“No,” you object out of instinct. Your words contradict the way your hips begin to buck against his fingers, itching for him to rip your panties off.

“Yes,” he chuckles, taking your hint and pulling the damp article of clothing down.

His fingers slide through your wetness freely now. You sigh with some semblance of relief. Your head rests against the mirror, and you can only imagine the sinful image displayed in the glass right now. You spread open for this man who looms above you.

You shake your head lazily in response to him. Your already-intoxicated mind becomes less focused as the simmer of pleasure starts melting away the functioning parts of your brain.

“Yeah. Just tell me this. Do you do this often, or is it something special about me?” he mocks.

Your response is cut short as he slips two fingers inside you. You gasp at the stretch. You’re pretty sure you’ve had dick before that was the same size as this guy's warm-up. You spread your trembling legs wider for him as your teeth briefly sink into your bottom lip.

“Just shut up,” you whimper, eyes flutter closed as he massages your walls.

“If I had to bet, I’d say this is the first time. You’re all shaky for me,” he teases and gently laps at your pulse point, “And I can feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest.”

He was right about that. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, thumping through all of your body. Your cheeks burn as he continues pumping in and out of your cunt. You tighten up around him, eyes fluttering at the sensation between your legs. Your slick gathers on his fingers and drips down to the marble under you.

“It’s cute really, knowing you’re not always such a slut,” he goes on.

You whine, loud enough that it echoes around the bathroom. His fingers curl within you, leading you towards the edge. One of your hands is flat on the counter, keeping you up right. The other is clasped around his wrist, your nails forming little red crescents on the skin. They dig in harsher as he keeps speaking.

“Like you better when you’re quiet,” you say between mewls and moans.

“I’d say the same for you if you weren’t making all those cute noises,” he says and starts thrusting his fingers in harder, “Got an innocent little thing like you moaning like a pornstar for me.”

Your head spins as the noise of his fingers inside your pussy starts to fill the bathroom. Your ear rests on your shoulder as you slump to the side in your drunken, lust-fueled haze. He just keeps on with his motions, working you right to the brink. Only when you’re writhing and whining like you’re about to lose it, does he stop and pull his digits out of you completely.

A noise of shock and frustration leaves you as your eyes narrow. He cracks a smile, highlighting that scar on his lip. He then tugs you off the counter by your hips. You nearly topple over, but he stabilizes you and walks you to the wall with the door, perpendicular to the mirror. He shoves you against the hard surface, engulfing your body with his own.

He’s breathing against the side of your head, rutting his hips into yours and letting you feel his hardened bulge. You could already tell it was big. One set of fingers holds your head against the wall while the other maintains a bruising grip on your waist.

“Acting pretty fuckin’ needy for someone who didn’t want it,” he grunts.

You catch your own eyes in the mirror and the image before you only has you getting more turned on. He’s all over you, grinding his hips and teasing himself with your flesh. His cheeks are stained with a light pink tint from the combination of desire and exertion. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the inky black locks out of his eyes. That same hand then ventures South.

He pushes up your skirt over the swell of your ass, bunching it near the small of your back. After a second of admiration, he pulls his cock out. At your current angle, you don’t get a clear view, but from what you do see of how his fist is wrapped around it, you know your expectations are correct.

He taps it against your ass teasingly, and you feel the weight of it. It’s heavy and warm, leaking a bit from the swollen tip. He slides it down and slips it between your thighs. It rubs against your slick folds. You’re already mentally preparing yourself for the stretch, but you still push your hips back at him because you crave it.

“That’s right. You’re learning already. Smarter than you look,” he teases before nudging the tip inside you and inching deeper.

Your guttural moan echoes through the bathroom as you accommodate his size. You feel him pulsing against every part of your insides. You sink further against the tiles on the wall. The bright gleam on them from the red neon lights fades as your eyes droop with lust. You try to say something, but you can’t get any words out.

And cocky as he is, he’s not faring much better. He groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His ragged breaths hit your skin that’s shining with more sweat. He watches your arms stretch out more against the wall, and his trail behind. His fingers chase yours and intertwine, flattening you against the surface.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbles against your skin.

When he bottoms out in you, you’re sure you feel him in your stomach, deeper than anyone before had made it. He takes a second to take in before starting to thrust. His skin smacks against yours in a slow rhythm at first. Your eyes roll back at the motions, and your cunt clamps down on him, trying to keep him all the way in, to keep yourself nice and full. He growls as he feels it and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your throat. He bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to create an ache, a complement to the satisfaction you felt in your belly.

You yelp at the sudden feeling. It hurt, but you wanted more. It wasn’t good enough right now, too dull. You wanted it to hurt, to feel as prominent as everything else going on felt. The music in the main part of the club still raged on, vibrating throughout the entire building, including the wall you were trapped against. The bass thrummed against your cheek and made your head fog up even faster.

He hums with pleasure at your responses, enjoying the way you slowly unraveled for him. He bites a bit harder before loosening up completely. The marks now forming on your skin drive him wild. He knows they’ll last for days. You’ll feel ‘em in the shower, while you’re getting dressed, when you’re shifting around in bed at night. They’ll last much longer after he pulls out and both of you have left this sketchy bathroom.

Once he’s away from your neck, his eyes lock in on yours, but they’re not making contact. He’s enraptured by the way your gaze remains on the mirror to the side of you. He stares down at you, as if studying your thoughts just from the look in your eyes.

“You got a thing for watching, little brat? You like watching yourself get used?” he pants, “I know I like it.”

That snaps you out of your daze. You glance back at him with something akin to shyness behind your eyes. He’d describe it as cute if the two of you weren’t in a situation that was anything but at the moment.

“It’s alright, keep watching. Watch me fill this tight pussy better than anyone else ever could,” he grunts.

All you can do to reply is whine and whimper, squirming against the wall. And he laughs at you.

“Yeah?” he mocks, “That all you have to say?”

He hooks his index finger in your mouth and pulls at your cheek, shifting your face to a more erotic expression. Any words you got out now would be garbled for sure. His hips continue clapping against your ass, jolting you forward with each stroke. Drool drips down your chin from how your mouth is pulled open. You don’t bother with trying to speak anymore. You just give in to how good he’s fucking you.

“Pretty baby. Such a slut for me,” he murmurs.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. It’s one of the most intense stares you’ve ever felt, like he’s reaching into your soul, rooting part of himself there. He’s gonna be with you long after this ends and you know it. You moan for him, letting all your sounds of euphoria flood the bathroom. He grins and pistons himself into you harder.

“Driving me crazy, dollface. Look at you, all fucked out, whining cause you don’t even know what to say. Don’t even know my fuckin’ name,” he says.

That really gets you cause he’s right, and you know it. And it should make you feel icky. Should make you want to recoil in disgust. But it does the opposite. You feel like your bodies are melting together, becoming one in your haze of passion.

You turn your head to face the other way, not wanting to confront the insatiable desire you felt. He moves in closer and keeps you pinned against that wall. He’s fucking you just how you like, and you don’t think you’re gonna last much longer. He’s not sure he will either with the way you’re pulsing around him.

“Harder,” you whimper, wanting to actually make it to the peak this time, “Want you deeper.”

“Knew you’d be begging for it,” he says. He gives you what you want though, pumping harder and driving himself even deeper. “You don’t need to know my name. All you care about is that I’m giving this pussy what she needs.”

You’re both climbing to the high point, caught up in your lust for each other. You almost don’t notice the door starting to open, a sliver of the world breaking the small bubble the two of you had made together.

All you see is a pair of eyes widening. They probably freeze with shock when they register your face squished against the tile, your wanton moans drifting through the small opening to their ears. They don’t get to see any more than that though because the bounty hunter’s large palm lands on the door and shoves it closed.

Your own eyes widen and watch how his bicep flexes. He holds it shut, and you’re pretty sure it’d stay that way even if the person tried to open it for another look.

“Not gonna let anyone interrupt before I get the chance to spill every last drop of my cum inside this cunt,” he mutters.

He’s going as hard as he can now. At least that’s what you choose to believe because you’re certain if he used any more force you’d pass out. His cock rams into all your sweet spots like entering a cheat code to get you to cum.

You claw at the wall pointlessly, there’s nothing to grab onto. But you hit the high nonetheless, cumming all over his cock. You gush around him with your release. It feels like your body goes limp, but he holds you up with no effort. He keeps you up and safely impaled on his dick, using you like a toy as he works himself up to the high.

He cums with a loud groan and makes good on his word to spill inside you. You’d have to get a pill tomorrow. He fucks it deep inside you, holding still for a moment as if to make sure he got it all in you. Only then does he finally slide out. He watches the sticky white liquid ooze out of you. It’s starting to drip down your inner thigh when he tugs your skirt back into place.

Your legs wobble beneath you as he lets you go. He steps away, turning around to put his cock away and fix his appearance slightly. You slump down against the wall, reduced to a curled up heap on the dirty floor of the bathroom, looking up at him like he’s a higher power.

You try to catch your breath, but your body feels like it’s tumbling down a mountain as you come down. Your glossy eyes watch him walk to the counter and fish your phone out of your clutch you’d left there. He checks the time before glancing at himself in the mirror. He then turns to you.

Crouching down to your level, he reaches out and strokes your cheek. He pushes some of your hair out of your face to meet your eyes.

“Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. I might wanna do this again sometime,” he tells you.

With that, he rises to his feet again and exits the bathroom as quickly as he’d entered. You’re still grappling with the events that took place. You barely even register the shots and the screaming coming from the main area of the club.

About fifteen minutes later, you manage to get to your feet. You pull your panties up again and fix yourself up as best you can. Then you leave the bathroom. The music is still blaring, but it feels quiet. There’s no one else inside; spare the dead body on the stairs leading up to the private rooms.

Bright sirens wail outside and lights begin painting your skin as you walk to the glass doors labeled ‘exit.’ Your shoes trudge through some blood on the floor and crunch on shards of broken glass. You step outside, dodging people’s questions about your wellbeing and avoiding other groups of people crying their eyes out. All of it feels surreal. None of it really has your focus.

All you’re thinking about is how you could see him again.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro imagine #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #smut

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holylulusworld · 6 months

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Snow bunny (1)

Summary: Someone tries to hunt a deer in your woods. You won’t have it.

Pairing: CEvans characters x Nymph!Reader (Lloyd Hansen, Ari Levinson, Andy Barber)

Warnings: creature reader, mentions of hunting deer, a little Christmas magic, kidnapping (kinda), Lloyd being Lloyd, groping, dirty talk, seduction (use of magic), I’ll label this dub-con (reader on them) because of her nature

Words: 1,7k

A/N: Please consider this a naughty Christmas fairytale.

Snow bunny masterlist

“Almost there, Barber. Follow me and you will kill your first deer.” You watch the men sneak around the woods. They carry weapons and knives. “Come on, hurry up. I don’t have all day to guide you through your first hunt, sunshine.”

“Shut up,” one of the other men shushes the first one. “You dragged me out here to run around the woods. I’d prefer a cabin, a fire, and some coffee.”

“Same,” the last guy grunts. “Lloyd let’s call it a day. I thought we want to drown our sorrows in booze and maybe some nice tits.”

“Shut up, Levinson,” the first guy twirls around to glare at the third guy. “You and Barber always whine about how your wives left you and that you want something new. You said you want thrills and fun. What is better than killing something?”

“Lloyd,” the second guy sighs. “Ari is not wrong. I’d take a drink over killing a deer any time of the day.”

“See, Andy thinks the same,” Ari grunts. “Let’s head back. We won’t find a deer to shoot today. It’s ice cold and I don’t feel my feet.”

“Wait!” The first guy, Lloyd lifts his fist. “There she is. The one I saw earlier.” He shushes the others and points at a majestic deer in the distance. He doesn’t know that the deer is dear to you, or that she’s sacred. “If you don’t want to kill that one, I’ll do it.”

“No. You won’t,” you confidently say and step out from behind a tree. All eyes are suddenly on you. The men gasp and groan as you walk toward them.

You’re only wearing a dress made of ivy and flowers. A leaf headdress covers your head. They watch you gracefully step closer, not bothered by the snow or the cold.

“Lady, shouldn’t you wear a little more than this—” Andy says. He worriedly looks at your bare feet as you walk through the snow. “She’s not wearing shoes and a thin dress made of what looks like ivy.”

“Miss, are you in trouble?” Ari steps toward you. He unbuttons his warm jacket to offer it to you, but you wave him off. “Miss?”

“Damn me,” Lloyd whistles. He looks you up and down and cups his crotch. “That’s a cute snow bunny, my friends. This must be the gift our friend told us about. Ya know, the fancy lady.”

“Fancy lady?” You huff. “I haven’t heard that term in ages.” Your soft voice goes straight to Andy’s cock. “Now, you will leave this place. The woods are not yours to disturb.”

“Miss, did you hit your head?” Andy worriedly watches you place your hand on Lloyd’s gun. “We can bring you back to town.”

“This is my home,” you snap your head toward Andy and snarl. “You invaded my home, and now you will pay for it.”

You tighten your hold on the gun, smirking as Lloyd tries to shake your hand off. “Let go, bunny and I won’t spank your cute ass too hard.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” You purr and dip your head to watch Ari take off his jacket. “I think you will be the first one Lloyd Hansen.”

Andy and Ari watch you drop your hand from the gun and step away. They are mesmerized by you and your appearance.

“Bunny, you should think about your next step. I’d hate to hurt you,” Lloyd smirks. “Or are you into a little pain?”

“You will pay for all the crimes you committed. You disrespect nature for too long,” you wave your hand, empathizing your words with the gesture. “Lloyd Hansen, you will be my slave from today on.”

Andy gasps as ivy crawls across the snow, it crawls up Lloyd’s leg to sling around the gun he’s still holding.

“Lloyd, you should drop the gun now,” Ari says. He’s suddenly not sure if his fascination for you is justified. “Don’t anger her. I don’t think she’s a prostitute.”

“Far from it,” you wave your hand again. More ivy crawls toward Lloyd to sling around his body. “He will look pretty in my garden. I will call his statue punishment.”

“Let me go, bunny,” Lloyd wiggles and grunts. “Hey, I’m talking to you. I won’t hurt you if you let me go now.”

“I won’t hurt you if you swear your obedience and loyalty to me and the woods,” you step toward Lloyd as more ivy wraps around his neck. “Now.”

“Do it Lloyd,” Andy sounds a little panicked. “Fuck, just do it!”

“Fine, snow bunny,” Lloyd struggles to speak as ivy wraps around his mouth. “I’ll be yours.”

“Wonderful!” You clap your hands, and the ivy drops to the ground. It disappears as suddenly as it appeared to wrap around the intruder. “Now to you.”

Lloyd is still a little shaken when you step toward Andy. You cup his face to feel his well-trimmed but thick beard under your fingertips.

“You will be mine too. I can sense your broken soul and sadness. You will only know joy and love from now on.”

Andy licks his lips. He can't move, speak, or think. “I-“ Andy croaks but doesn’t bring the words swirling in his mind out. He got a job, responsibility, an ex-wife demanding money, and a house to pay for but all he can think of now is to make you happy.

“Say yes, my sweet lover,” you press your lips to Andy’s taking his breath and fears away. He moans into your mouth, feeling his chest and cock swell at the same time. “Say you are mine.”

“I’m yours,” he breathes against your lips. Andy reaches out for you, but you slip through his fingers like the wind. “Only yours…”

You suddenly stand in front of Ari, eyes scanning more than his features. “Ari, your soul is sad too, and your heart is broken.” You cup his face with both hands. “Say you are mine and all of this will be gone forever.”

“I-I,” he welcomes your lips and closes his eyes. It feels like a weight gets lifted off his chest when you wrap your arms around him like the ivy did with Lloyd. “I’m yours.”

“Of course you are mine, Ari,” you breathe and float away to wrap your hand around Lloyd’s throat. “You are not sad nor heartbroken. But you are a bad…bad man and need guidance.”

“Oh bunny, I’d like to guide something inside of you,” Lloyd grins. He got that you are more interested in owning the men than anything else. “That’s what you want, right? You’re a naughty little slut dreaming of dick. I bet you want us to defile you.”

“Lloyd, don’t,” Ari warns. “Let her make you happy.” He’s like in a trance. “I want to make her happy and forget about my awful life.”

“It’s Christmas, my love,” you blow a kiss in Ari’s direction. “I will share all of my love with you.”

“And me,” Andy purrs. His eyes are dilated, and you know he is drifting in the right direction. You smirk and blow him a kiss too.

“Yes, my love,” you coo and batt your eyelashes. “Wait for me, Andy. I need to tame your friend first.”

“You can try,” Lloyd snickers as you slam him against the nearby tree. He laughs and watches you run your hands over his chest. “I’m not some puppy you can train. I know you are using some tricks to confuse these two idiots but me, I’m made of rougher stuff, bunny. If you want me, go on your knees, and give me a kiss to my dick.”

“You’re a stubborn and naughty man, Lloyd,” you are fascinated by this man. None of the other men you enchanted ever withstood your magic for so long. “Hmm…I won’t leave you behind. I want to keep you too.”

“Keep me?” He snorts. “Bunny if you keep me you’ll always be full of dick. I’ll use all of your holes. I will fuck you under your Christmas tree and christen it. You will be my whore until I get bored.”

Your core aches at his crude description. Maybe you shouldn’t control him too much. This man is a menace, and you want him to use you the way he wants to.

“We will see,” you say instead of giving away that you want him to take you right there against the tree. “For now, you are mine and will follow me home.”

“Like hell,” he growls. His hand shoots toward your crotch to roughly cup your pussy. “Look who’s wet like a cat in heat for me. Come on, bunny. I want you to turn around and let Lloyd take good care of that cunt.”

“You will wait until it’s your turn,” you cup his face and kiss him roughly. “You will be my new toy. Maybe I’ll turn you into my favorite, huh?”

“Miss…I mean…it’s getting colder,” Andy’s teeth shatter. “We should head back, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Of course,” you twirl around to look at Andy and Ari. “Humans freeze so easily.” You snap your fingers. The trees part and the snow melts to create a path. “Come with me. I’ll offer you shelter from the cold.”

“I bet your cunt is slick and warm enough to keep me warm,” Lloyd snickers, but follows hot on your heels. “So, what do you do for a living? Kidnapping hot guys to get dick? Hmm… no. A girl can’t live off cock and cum alone.”

“You really are a naughty man, Lloyd Hansen,” you chuckle as you look over your shoulder. “Santa was right. You need me to make a better man out of you…”

“Whoa, the fuck!” Lloyd stops in his tracks as you stop walking. You are standing in front of a huge castle. Ivy and flowers are wrapped around the whole building and it looks like straight out of a fairytale. “Where is this thing coming from? Not hours ago, there was nothing but snow and trees.”

“You cannot see my home as long as you are not worthy,” you grab his wrist, to make sure Lloyd doesn’t run away. Ari and Andy are loyal already, but Lloyd is a different story. “You will be allowed inside as long as you are a good boy.”

“Good boy,” he snorts. “Dream on, bunny.”

“Y/N, my love,” the door opens to reveal another man. The tall blonde steps outside to welcome you home. “Do you like my choice? Are you satisfied?”

“Stevie, my sweet love,” you coo, and push Lloyd toward the door. “Please keep an eye on this one. He’s a little…”

“Stubborn,” Steve smirks. “Oh, punk. You are in for a long haul…”

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #ari levinson #andy barber #steve rogers #nymph reader #snow bunny #lloyd hansen x reader #ari levinson x reader #andy barber x reader

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indifferent-depravity · 9 months

Text

CW: dub-con incest, age gap, minor mention of drug abuse and being high

Minors DNI 18+

A/N: happy birthday to me! hope y’all enjoy :)

~~~

You stuff your hand over your mouth, hot tears burning tracks down your cheeks as a strangled sob rips from your throat. Christmas dinner at the Berzatto’s has always been a stressful time but your mom is really on a warpath tonight, scrutinizing everything you do to try to help.

“Baby Bear? Where’d you disappear to?”

Your eyes fly open at Mikey’s gravelly voice just beyond the closed door of the pantry and you clear your throat, roughly scrubbing your sleeve over your eyes as you call out, “in here, Mikey!” The handle rattles as he pulls the door open and you shoot him a weak half-smile, stretching up to reach a box of crackers on the top shelf. “Mama wanted me to get some crackers for Tiff.” Mikey cocks an eyebrow at your weak excuse, easily reaching up to grab the box for you.

“I don’t think grabbing some fuckin’ crackers takes ten minutes, what’s really going on?” His voice is soft as he hands you the box and your face falls at the question, fresh tears burning your eyes. He sighs and pulls you against his chest, trapping your arms between your bodies.

“I can’t do anything right, Bear. Mama- she just keeps screaming at me and it-it feels like everyone else doesn’t want me here.” You sob, the cardboard box collapsing underneath your tightening grip.

Mikey rests his cheek on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your back, “Now you know that ain’t true, baby, you’re such a good girl all the time, it'd be a crime not to want to be around you.” You let out a quiet hiccuping laugh and his lips curl into a smile, turning his head to press a kiss to your hair.

You pull your face away from his chest to wipe your eyes and he grins, cupping your cheek to pull your forehead against his. “There’s my girl.” He says quietly with a grin, “don’t let mom ruin Christmas for you, yeah? Keep being good and once everyone’s gone, I’ll give you your present.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, a small smile sneaking onto your face. “Okay, I promise.” You grin at him, “do I get a hint on what you got me?”

Mikey laughs and pecks your cheek, brushing his lips over the corner of your mouth, “Cheeky girl, where’s the fun if you’re not surprised, huh?” You giggle and wind your arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

“Never hurts to ask, right?” You tease, eyes sliding shut as you linger in his warm embrace, “Thank you, Bear.”

He hums, bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head, “It’s nothin’, Baby Bear, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

More tears threaten to spill and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath to let the smell of his cologne calm you before stepping away. “I should really get these to Tiff.” You say, shaking the half crushed box, “you promise they don’t hate me?”

“If they do, they’ll answer to me, yeah? Don’t let them get in that pretty head of yours.” Mikey shares a reassuring smile with you, dropping down to kiss your head one last time before heading back to the gathering. You press your lips together as he returns to being his boisterous self, loud voice spilling through the rest of the house.

After dropping off the crackers with Tiffany and fussing over her when another wave of nausea ran through her, you drag your feet back to the living room, loitering in the doorway as your heart pounds at the constant chatter between guests.

You force a smile when Mikey notices you, curling in on yourself as he gestures you over to him. Without a stutter in his words he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you onto his lap, smoothing a reassuring hand down your back as he talks. You curl into him, tucking your face into his neck to hide from the eyes of everyone, perfectly content to just listen as Mikey commands the room.

“And I thought incest was a southern thing! Who’d have thought we’d see it from my own son and daughter!”

Mikey stiffens under you and your body burns with mortification, pulling away from your hiding place in Mikey’s neck to look at your mom, “Mama!”

“What?” She laughs, nearly choking on her last sip of wine, “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking, Baby Bear, what kinda siblings sit like that?”

Mikey glares at Donna, opening his mouth to defend himself when you slide off his lap, curling in on yourself. He resigns to glaring at her and touches your back gently, leaning down to whisper, “Don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to start shit.” You just nod, shifting away from his touch as tears burn your eyes.

An awkward air fills the room as the conversation tries to move away from Donna’s outburst and you take your chance to slip away, busying yourself with readying the table for dinner. The heavy thud of boots makes you glance up, your stomach twisting at the sheepish look on Mikey’s face. “Baby Bear, you know I’d never-”

“So this is where you ran off to!”

A cold trickle runs down your spine as Lee wraps an arm low around your waist, fingers just barely brushing against your hip bone through your jeans. Lee shot Mikey a shit-eating glare and tugs you against his side, “what are you doing, hiding away in here with him?” He spits the last word like an insult and Mikey bares his teeth in a snarl, stepping forward to pull you away from him.

“I-I just wanted to make sure the table was set, I know Mama’s almost done cooking.” You answer nervously, eyes flickering between the two men. “I should actually… see if she needs help, please excuse me.” You extract yourself from Lee’s grasp, shuddering as his hand glides over the globe of your ass. You hurry to the kitchen, plastering a smile on your face as Donna turns to you with a dish full of food.

“Put this down and go tell everyone it’s time to eat. Go, hurry!”

You nod frantically and carefully balance the hot dish as you move as quickly as you dart back into the dining room, barely sparing a glance at the two men still locked in a standoff before dipping your head into the living room to call out, “foods up!”

You go back to the kitchen to help your mom and by the time you get into the dining room with the final platter, the only seat available is between Mikey and Lee. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out as you move to sit down. You stiffen in your seat as Lee’s hand drops to your lap to squeeze your knee. Mikey lets out a deep growl and glares at Lee, reaching over to force his hand off your leg, “how about you keep your fucking hands to yourself, huh?”

Lee laughs, “Yeah like you could follow that rule! You think I don’t know what you and Baby Bear have been up to? Maybe if you stopped dreaming about your dick in her mouth maybe tonight wouldn’t have been so stressful for your mom.”

Your eyes widen, nails digging into your palms as Mikey scoffs, slamming his hand against the table before pointing accusingly at Lee, “Don’t you dare say shit like that in front of her! You know damn well you could’ve gotten your head out of your ass and helped too!”

You gently touch Mikey’s arm, sharing a pleading look with him, “Hey. Just leave him, Bear, okay?” You shake your head as you speak softly, “This isn’t worth it, please.” His face softens and you give him a small smile.

“Don’t act like I didn’t catch you in her bedroom the other day! Your poor mother’s at her wit’s end because you’re just some sick junkie pervert that can’t keep his hands off his own sister!” Lee yells, “How long has it been going on, huh? Did you get addicted to the pills first or was the guilt of fucking your little sister too much to handle sober?”

The room falls silent, everyone exchanging silent glances, trying to decide who to believe. No one could believe Mikey would ever hurt you but… the Mikey they saw in front of them, the one high on pills, who knows what he could do. You stand abruptly, knocking your chair over as you look around the room for a moment, almost pleading with them to come to your defense. Tears of humiliation burn your eyes as you rush from the room, finding solace in your bedroom as the first sob rips from your chest.

You’re curled up on your bed when someone knocks lightly on your door. Sniffling, you sit up, calling out for them to open the door. Michelle pokes her head in and you manage a small smile, wiping your face with your sleeve, “What a shitshow, huh? Sorry for just running out like that.” Your voice cracks and she shoots you a sad smile, moving to sit next to you.

“None of that was your fault, honey. What they were saying about you and Mikey, I…” She trails off into a deep breath, “I was talking to Carmy earlier and I invited him to come stay in New York with me for a couple weeks.”

You nod, picking at your nails, “He’d love that, I know things have been stressful for him recently.”

“For you, too.” You look up at her questioningly and she sighs, turning to face you, “Baby Bear, I think you should come with us.” She begins, placing her hand on your knee, “with everything going on, I think you need some space from M- from everything… you could spend some time with Carmy and maybe find a good school to go to out there.”

You press your lips together in a firm line to stop them from wobbling as a fresh wave of tears builds in your eyes, “from Mikey, you mean? You want me to just leave Mikey like that?” A look of betrayal washes over your face, “who would he have if I’m gone? No. No, I can't go with you.” You finish with a shake of your head, pushing her hand off your leg.

“Honey, don’t say no yet, okay? I’m not leaving until next week, you’ve got time.” Desperation laces her voice as she stands up from your bed. “Just… think about it?” You turn your head to avoid her gaze and she sighs, lingering for a moment before leaving.

You take a shuddering breath and flop back down onto your bed, letting your comforter muffle your quiet sobs. Another knock causes you to jump, scrubbing your eyes furiously to hide the evidence as you croak, “D-doors open!” You steel yourself for more nosy relatives, pressing your lips together as you will back your tears.

“Baby Bear?”

Your facade breaks when Mikey’s face comes into view and you jump off your bed to crush him into a hug. “I’m sorry for leaving you down there alone I just- I just couldn’t-'' Your voice cracks as the words of your Uncle Lee replay in your mind, pressing your face hard against his chest “You’re not what he says! You’re my big brother, you'd never hurt me, why can’t people see that!”

His laugh vibrates through your body as his arms come up to wrap around your shoulders, “People see what they wanna see, Baby Bear, you know that.” His voice is laced with hurt and you look up at him, heart twisting painfully at the defeated look on his face.

You tighten your arms around him, “Well they’re wrong, you’re the only one that really cares ‘bout me.”

Your words bring a smile to his face and he leans down to kiss your forehead, “I’ll always care about you, you’re my baby bear.”

“Come cuddle with me,” You demand and tug at him, sending him stumbling against you as you walk backward toward your bed.

He lets out a shocked laugh, grabbing your shoulders to steady himself before he’s sent sprawling on top of you across the bed, “Careful, Baby Bear! Nearly made me crush you.”

A pout forms on your lips and you tug at him again, pulling him down nearly on top of you on the bed, “I’m not that fragile!”

Mikey snorts but lets you maneuver him to your liking before curling up against his chest. He grabs the hand you slung over his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers, “no, you’re not. You’re a big, strong bear like me, huh?”

You giggle and lace your fingers with his, marveling as his hand engulfs yours, “Yeah! That way we can take care of each other.”

“That’s right, baby.” He smiles and leans his head back against your pillows, running his thumb over your shoulder as a comfortable silence falls over the room. He looks out of place against the frills of your bedding, the same sheets you’ve had your whole childhood.

You trace invisible shapes into his chest, letting the slow movement of his breathing calm you. “Michelle came to talk to me after the fight.” You whisper, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness, “She wants me to go back to New York with her for a while. Says it would be good for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod against his chest, “I don’t know… maybe it’s a good idea with everything that… that Mama is accusing you of.”

His breathing stutters and you look up at him questioningly. “You’d leave me, just like that?” He asks, speaking over you as you open your mouth to reply, “You’re all I got Baby Bear, if you leave there’d be nothing left for me here.”

Grief fills your face and you shake your head furiously, sitting up farther to pepper his face with kisses. “Don’t say things like that, Mikey! You’ll always have me, ‘m not going anywhere!” You exclaim, wrapping yourself around him in a tight hug.

Mikey nods and leans up to catch your lips with his, missing his mark and catching your cheek instead. His hands glide over your sides, gripping your waist tightly as he twists to pin you underneath his weight. “I love you, Baby Bear.” He whispers as he finally finds your mouth, forcing his tongue past your lips in a sloppy kiss. You gasp and grip his shirt, too shocked to respond as he kisses you slowly.

He’s breathing heavily when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “M-Mikey, I think you need to go to your room.” You say hesitantly, pushing against his chest, “What if Mama catches us, you could go to jail.”

He shakes his head and dips down for another kiss, hand slipping down your body to grab a handful of your ass. A reluctant moan slips from your throat as he drags your core over his hardening bulge and he groans in response, grinding harder against you.

“You’re always so worried about everyone else, just think of us for once.” He murmurs, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “Everyone already thinks we’re having sex, why fight it?” You shake your head, letting out a gasp as he nibbles your pulse point. He dips his fingers between your thighs, humming quietly as he finds your panties soaked with your wetness.

You throw your head back with a whine as Mikey pushes his fingers past the barrier of your panties and sinks his fingers into your core. He slowly thrusts them into your cunt, groaning at each quiet whimper slipping past your lips. “M-Mikey stop! They’re going to hear us!”

He shakes his head, curling his against your sweet spot, “Don’t worry, Baby Bear, they’re too shit-faced to care what we’re up to.” Mikey presses his lips against yours as he coaxes a third finger into you, drinking in your moans. Your hips stutter, torn between arching towards the pleasure and away from it.

Mikey hums, other hand dropping down to free his cock from his jeans, “tha’s it baby, ready for my cock?” You shake your head, a gasp catching in your throat as he grinds his cock against the softness of your inner thigh. He curls his fingers inside your cunt, forcing a loud moan out of you and grins, “Yeah you are, don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good.”

He pulls his fingers out, chuckling softly at your whine, and blindly wraps his hand around his cock. You squirm underneath him, pressing your palms against his chest as he glides the tip through your folds, “I-I don’t think we should be doing thi-” you lose your words on a choked gasp as his cock sinks into your cunt.

Mikey lets out a shaky breath, resting his forehead against yours as he rolls his hips, slowly pushing deeper with each thrust, “been wanting this for so long, Baby Bear, feel so good around me.” He growls, gritting his teeth as he bottoms out inside you. Your breath comes out in short pants, cunt clenching around his thick length.

“Mikey…” You whine as he grinds against you, a hot shock of pleasure jolting through your spine, “We should s-stop.” He shakes his head, forcing his mouth over yours in a heated kiss. His hands grip your thighs, using the leverage to drive his hips harder into you. The room fills with quiet squeaking, your bed frame thunking gently against the wall with each thrust.

You throw your head back against your pillows with a loud moan as his cock angles perfectly against your sweet spot. Mikey slaps his hand over your mouth and shushes you, leaning close to your ear. “Y’need to stay quiet, princess, want Ma to hear? Or Uncle Lee? I saw how he was touchin’ you tonight, I think he’d try to join. Don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically, biting down hard on your lip as another moan bubbles from your chest. Mikey gives you a mock pout, thrusts speeding up as he murmurs, “I know, I know Baby Bear, it feels too good, huh? Love your big brother's cock in your little pussy.” Mikey loses his rhythm as he looks down at you, nearly angelic with your eyes half-lidded with pleasure, your hair sprawled across the princess pink of your pillows like a halo.

Mikey grinds his fingers against your clit and the taste of blood fills your mouth as your teeth break through the skin of your lip in your attempt to stifle your noises. You clench around him as his fingers push you closer to the edge and he grins, thrusting harder into you. “I can feel how close you are, Baby Bear. C’mon, you can let go.” His fingers move against you faster and your body arches against him, muscles tightening as you teeter on the edge. “Yeah jus’ like that, cum on your brother’s cock.”

Tears burn your eyes as your orgasm rips through you, shaking beneath him as overwhelming pleasure frays your nerves. Mikey lets out a choked grunt, hands moving to pull your hips flush against his as you clench around him, drawing his orgasm from him.

Mikey carefully shifts onto his side, his frame dwarfing the small bed as he pulls you tightly against his chest to keep you from falling off. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, mouth curving into a smile as you kiss back. “Merry Christmas, Baby Bear.”

#mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto the bear #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto smut #mikey the bear #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #smut #writing

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cherryxsang · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐖

Outlaw!San x Bountyhunter!Reader (afab) Genre: smut Word count: 3.7k Warnings: POSSIBLY TRIGGERING BRIEF SEXUAL VIOLENCE (San tries to attack the reader for sexual reasons but doesn't actually do anything), dub con (San is drunk), physical fighting, handcuffs, penetrative sex, handjob, oral sex (m and f), spit kink, hate sex?, filthy dialogue

»»————————————►

You tried to keep your nerves at bay as you reached for the door of the bar on a night you’d been searching for for weeks. It wasn’t the building you were searching for, but a certain person you were hunting. One of your sources had tipped you off that he would be in that very building on that very night.

You stepped inside and quickly scanned everything around you. Although the bar was brightly lit, it was also quite busy, and you didn’t see him just yet. You tugged at the itchy frills of your dress and followed your senses. If I were an outlaw, where would I be, you asked yourself. That question lead you to a counter located near the back of the building. It was slightly less illuminated and not as packed with people.

Your heart pounded with excitement when your eyes focused in on the silhouette of one man. Your gut told you that you’d found him. As you carefully approached, you caught a glimpse of his profile and knew immediately from his wanted pictures that he was your man. Here we go, you thought.

Unlike most women who walk into a saloon after sunset, you weren’t there looking to wow him, at least not as your final goal. You were there to trap him. He had a hefty bounty on his head, and you had found that you were a natural at this kind of thing.

You scooted yourself onto a stool near the outlaw, keeping a close eye in your peripheral while also appearing cool. As you leaned your elbows on the bar counter you felt his heavy gaze take its post on you. “A bourbon, please,” you smiled at the bartender.

A chuckle to your right. You looked over as an unknowing stranger, your eyes wide with feigned innocence. That was the first time you gazed into the cat-shaped eyes of Choi San. The same dark and weathered, yet still young and curious eyes that had seen every one of his crimes. Ten known murders and an estimated thousands worth of stolen goods, among other things. You hated yourself for noticing how attractive those eyes were.

Through dark and droopy—probably drunk—eyelashes, he looked your feminine form up and down. “Sorry, miss,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, “I just wouldn’t have expected a pretty little thing like you to walk into a place like this.”

You smiled at him—a fake one, you were sure—and responded in your nicest voice, “Well, sir, I did expect to see a handsome man like yourself, see.”

He flashed a cocky smile as his gaze dropped down to his drink. “You city women are a peculiar treat,” he said in a low voice. It made your confidence waver just a bit. Had he already become suspicious of your character? Should you have put on a smooth, slow drawl to match his? You cleared your throat and shooed the thoughts away.

Ignoring what he had said, you spoke again, remaining composed. “If I’m not mistaken- Did I notice that you’re alone tonight? Would be a shame.” You fingered the condensation on your drink glass, anxious for his response.

“I’m always alone, miss.” You rolled your eyes at his vague and, you judged, pompous answer, but nonetheless began to plan your next move. That is, until you felt the vibration of the stool next to yours moving. You inhaled deeply, instinctively ghosting your hand over the pocket-sized pistol that was strapped to your thigh under your dress, but allowing San to take the seat beside you. “That don’t have to mean physically, though,” he added.

You giggled through your teeth, watching a warm smile grace his soft but masculine features. Now that he was close, you noticed how large he was—not especially tall, but muscular. A true farmhand’s build. How charming. That was also when you realized that you had placed your hand on his arm to flirt with him. It wasn’t a conscious choice, just a reflex. Still, all part of the job.

“Can I buy that for you?” he motioned to your drink. Sensing an opportunity arising, you answered with a cunning “sure.”

“Perhaps I could repay you in some way,” you said softly and avoiding eye contact, acting shy. The look San gave you sent a chill down your spine. It was as if you could see his mind switch gears, see the tunnel vision activate. His face darkened, his eyebrows resting shiftily above his eyes and his polite smile fading with seriousness. But it only lasted a second, and then dimples melted back into his tan skin.

“It would be much obliged,” he almost whispered, his voice sweet like molasses. It made you weirdly nervous. You were silently puzzled by the fact that you felt your trust in yourself dwindling. You can do this, you reminded yourself. Your internal quarrel was interrupted by San reaching very suddenly for your hand. “You know,” he started mindlessly, toying with your fingers. You kept stern eye contact, reminding yourself not to be fooled by his prowess and to keep your guard up. “Despite your cold reputation, you city ladies are really quite friendly.”

He looked at you and you smiled politely, telling him, “I’m full of surprises, sir.” Never breaking eye contact, you added, “And can I have my ring back?” You probably shouldn’t have said it, as it could set him off and ruin your chances of getting the bastard caught. You didn’t care about the ring anyhow, it was a simple prop. But he was cocky, attempting to steal your ring right in front of you. And you were annoyed.

San gave you wide eyes of surprise but quickly covered himself with a laugh. Holding your ring on the tip of his pointer and examining it, “Let me pay you for it with another drink,” he said smugly, dropping the ring in his pocket plainly. “It’s not worth much anyways.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Or…” You raked your fingers up and down the cowboy’s denim-clad thigh. “Spend the night with me and we’ll call us even.”

San dipped his head in feigned shyness. He kept his head down for a second too long and it made you uneasy. You knew he was imagining all the things he might be able to get away with doing to you. “You are something, city miss. You don’t even know my name.” He maintained a teasing smile.

“Mine is Y/N,” you offered.

“San,” he returned, pulling your hand to his mouth for a kiss. All calculated, you reminded yourself. “There’s an inn next door,” he suggested.

“Let’s go.” The two of you stood up, abandoning your own drink while San quickly finished his off. He replaced his hat and led you out of the saloon. The walk to the bedroom you would be occupying was clouded by a war within your head. You didn’t know what it was exactly. You knew your plan was to get him alone, handcuff him and bring him straight to the police’s attention. But there was a nerve-wracking feeling deep down that you didn’t trust yourself this time. You didn’t know what exactly you were worried about, you’d done this all before after all, but nonetheless something felt strange. There was some part of yourself that you felt you weren’t in control of.

Those thoughts were interrupted when you arrived at your rented room which San had ever-so-kindly paid for. He let you in first then closed the door. “Finally,” he sighed darkly. The next thing you knew, you were off your feet, caught completely off guard. San had picked you up by your waist and thrown you roughly onto the mattress. He was quick to climb on top of you, thighs around your waist and with a tight grip on either wrist. Even drunk, the bastard was damn strong.

“Get off me, you fucker!” you shouted, blindsided by the sudden danger. You were painfully aware of the cold metal of your pistol on your thigh, so close but entirely out of reach.

“I’ve been waiting too fucking long for this.” The two of you struggled, meanwhile San had let one of your hands go to allow himself to fumble his belt undone. You began to desperately punch him as hard as you could. All the while he was staring you in the eye expressionless. “You’ll lay still and take me, stupid whore.”

Once he had unzipped his jeans, he began pulling at your dress. As he worked the mess of fabric up your thighs, he unintentionally revealed your weapon. He shot you a look like he was scared, his brows furrowed and eyes wide. “What are you?” he asked frantically.

He was weakened by his confusion and you were able to twist away from him, your feet hitting the floor. He quickly grabbed you again, but now you were able to kick him back by his stomach. You tried to calm your nerves while he was down and reached for your gun. This has gotten out of hand, you told yourself. I have to end it.

Before you could cock the pistol, San grabbed it by its barrel. He pushed you backwards until you hit a wall. You shouted as your head hit the hard wooden door frame and continued to wrestle for your gun. Again, San just stared expressionless. He was probably petrified. He was fighting for his life, but so were you. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me,” he whispered. “But I hope you’re having as much fun as I am,” he smirked. With his body pressed against yours, you happened to notice that he was rock hard. You didn’t do anything with that information except get the idea to knee him hard in his groin.

When he fell to the ground you quickly spun around to his back side and pointed your ready gun at him. You still had another tool on your body: a set of handcuffs in an inside pocket of your dress. The realization gave you an idea: Stick to the original plan. But you needed to get him near the bed first. So you climbed onto the mattress, your pistol still locked on San. Sure enough, as soon as he got to his feet, he jumped on the mattress with you, reaching for your gun again. But you were ready for him, grabbing him by his neck and throwing him down with all your adrenaline-fueled strength. His skull hit the headboard in a thud and you sat on his chest, the handcuffs already in your hand. You dropped your pistol and through a struggle managed to chain his hands together, looped around the headboard so he couldn’t move.

Stepping back, you took a few seconds to ensure he was immobilized and to catch your breath. You thought you imagined at first when San started to laugh maniacally. A drop of blood slowly rolled down his forehead, meanwhile he grinned. “What are you?” he asked again. “Bounty hunter?”

Proud of the work you accomplished tonight, you told him honestly, “Yes.”

He continued to laugh, mumbling to himself, “Fuck me. City miss. Bounty hunter. I thought you were just an odd whore.” He adjusted his legs, seemingly getting himself comfortable as he accepted his fate. He wiped his blood on his denim jacket. “You have no idea how much fun that was. Between us, I like a feisty woman.”

You took a step closer to him. “You were hard,” you said flatly.

He grunted in response, rolling his head toward you. “You’re gorgeous. And you put up a hell of a fight, Y/N.”

“You’re gorgeous, too, actually.” What’s the harm in telling a man likely soon to face death row? “When I heard your description…your crimes…I wasn’t imagining something like you.”

He listened intently. The first time that night that you felt he was really hearing what you said, it was when you were praising him. He was disgusting, and yet look at him; Chained up and submissive. At your complete disposal. You thanked the heavens for your occupation as a bounty hunter and not a member of the police force. There were no rules against what you had now accepted you wanted to do.

You simply undid your dress, allowing it to pool at your feet. San was silent, just watching for whatever you would do next. “You’re going to fuck me, cowboy. Then we’ll be even.”

He laughed harder than before, his broad chest heaving. “You really are a whore.”

You punched his mouth. That shut him up. Then your eyes trailed to the tall tent in his jeans. You finished what he had started earlier, unzipping them all the way and fishing his rock-solid dick out. It was tall and veiny, leaking and frustrated. You felt your arousal spill at the sight. You pulled his jeans down to his knees and then you straddled him, hovering above his hard-on.

You undid the buttons of his leather vest, exposing his swollen abs and pecs. You threw his hat across the room and examined the wound on the top of his scalp. You dabbed the blood with the bed sheet and then carefully combed your fingers through his bangs. You took care with him now as in a moment of weakness, you let your mind wander straight into fantasy. If only this deadly, gorgeous man had a soul, you thought. Maybe you would try to make him yours. Still, you took pride in being the only woman to ever take him down and make him feel weak.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he teased you, sensing your hatred for him slipping.

You grabbed him by the neck and pushed his stupid head against the hard wood of the head board. “Don’t you fucking dare,” you said.

“Then just fuck me already, will you?” he spat, fed up. His dick was still standing there all alone in the cold room and you guessed it was painful for him. Good.

You peeled your underwear off of your already sweaty body and slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, facing away from him as you couldn't bring yourself to look at the bastard’s face any longer. He felt even bigger inside of you and he had a beautiful curve, effortlessly brushing against your sweet spot with every movement. You and San let out a unison moan as you bottomed out and your walls fluttered around him.

He was silent now as you rode him. No snide comments as you finally gave him what he really wanted all along. But you couldn’t complain about what he wanted because you were giving yourself a little treat too. If he’s going to be arrested and likely executed, why not make him useful while he has the chance?

You rubbed your clit against San’s pubic bone, the friction causing you to tense around him with each grind of your hips, much to San’s delight. He was shameless, a moaning, whiny mess behind you. He was breathing heavily and you imagined by the way he was tugging at his restraints that if his hands were free they’d be all over you right now. A part of you longed to feel those arms. Not San’s, you reminded yourself, but maybe someone’s.

You settled to fuck yourself stupid on the outlaw’s dick. You held his thighs as you sought out the feeling of sharp, quick thrusts. You moved rhythmically, tensing and relaxing your muscles, allowing yourself to revel in the sensation of being stuffed full.

Soon enough, San started going crazy beneath you, tugging harder at his handcuffs, his thighs twitching. That was your cue to lift your hips. You weren't about to let a criminal place some kind of mark on you with his seed. Plus you weren’t done with him. San groaned deeply at the loss of sensation. You turned around and he looked like he wanted to kill you right then and there. “What the fuck, Y/N?” he hissed sharply.

“You piece of shit,” you retorted, “We just started. You need to make me cum, too.” You brushed his lips, which were slightly swollen from your earlier punch, with two fingers and without verbal direction he obeyed and opened his mouth. “Let me see that tongue,” you whispered to yourself, meaning to only say it in your head.

“I don’t-”

“Shut up,” you said before grabbing a handful of his hair and directing his mouth to your pussy as you crawled forward. Despite his apparent resistance, he obediently stuck his tongue out for you and lapped at you like a starved man. You grinded against his tongue, seeking more. “Suck me,” you said, and he did just that, wrapping his swollen lips around your clit. You didn’t need to give him any further instruction, he knew just what to do as he continued to happily drink up every last bit of your arousal and paid close attention to your clit. You came undone with a string of high-pitched moans and kept a hand in his hair so he couldn’t get away, not that you thought he’d ever try to. He continued to gently work you through your orgasm, and you laughed, “You might hate me, San. You might want me dead, but you still can’t get enough of my pussy, can you?”

He disconnected from you and looked up with puppy eyes. “Please let me cum, miss.” How sweet, you thought. Miss. You had apparently broken him when you didn't even really mean to. You tried your best not to smile at his cute, pitiful state and instead busied yourself with licking your arousal off of his chest. The mixture of cum and sweat was salty but sweet in a way. You licked up the crevice between his pecs and then swirled your tongue around one of his nipples. He hummed happily. “No one’s ever done that before,” he said.

“Which part?”

“Everything you just did.” There was a gentleness to his voice now. You knew it was just that he was more desperate than ever to cum and was trying to play his cards right to get there. But a part of you couldn’t help but enjoy it in the moment. Not that you were going soft, you told yourself. It was just sweet how a man as big and tough as San was always, at the end of the day, a slave to his own dick.

You turned around again, sitting your wet pussy on his belly and wrapped your hand around his dick. You dropped a string of spit onto his cock head and spread it around with a couple of soft pumps. San moaned again behind you, once again chasing his long-awaited orgasm (although it hadn't been that long, he was just impatient). You continued pumping his shaft with one hand, while the other alternated between massaging his balls and teasing his tip. “It’s good, miss,” he whispered mindlessly. Sleepily. Drunkenly. Why did it make your hands move faster? “Feels so good…” When he started to stir again, you bent down, sticking your pussy in his face and sucked on his tip, tonguing the slit while your hands still worked him too.

A long and strained “Fuuuuuck,” told you he was close and you started pumping him as fast as you could, grabbing and sucking harder. Just a few pumps and you felt his warm seed spurting out into your mouth, felt his thighs quake, heard the pleasing aria of breathy and tired moans behind you. You decided you would swallow, if only to not create another mess for the innkeepers.

You looked back at the man you were sat on. He was lying still with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath after his orgasm. You took one last look at his marvelous dick before concealing it again with his jeans–you wanted to leave him some tiny bit of dignity when the police came to find him chained up.

You stood up, ready to call it a night and grab your things, but there was one more thing you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to do. “Don’t go,” San teased as you looked down at him.

You leaned down close to San’s face and stared at his lips, hoping he would catch your hint. He did, as he opened his lips just slightly, expectantly. You grabbed his jaw roughly and opened it the rest of the way, spitting on his tongue. “Enjoy the taste of yourself, you dirty fuck.”

He shot a pair of sharpened cat eyes and said, “You really are full of surprises, miss.”

As you slipped into your dress again, your head was full of thoughts. For the most part they were of your plan to get the sheriff to the inn, but there was a strange feeling you couldn’t ignore: Regret. Not of having slept with the San, but of not being able to do it again. It was quite fun. An exciting adventure and an enjoyable fuck, and now it was over. Even though he was a horrible man, you were going to miss him in a way. And though you felt no guilt over his arrest which was to come, you felt compelled to leave him with a goodbye.

“Good luck to you, San,” you said, tucking your forgotten pistol into your dress pocket. “Whatever happens to you, good luck.”

He watched you unamused. He sighed, then said, “You can fuck yourself. And I guess I’ll see you in hell.”

“I’ll see you when you’re being arrested,” you smiled, taking in the sight of the attractive outlaw handcuffed to a stranger’s bed for the last time before closing the door behind you.

From there, you went straight to the police station and informed the sheriff there of the outlaw waiting for his arrest. You led a pair of officers to the bedroom. Another gut feeling was telling you now that something was wrong, and as the officers rushed in, your fear was realized: there was no handsome criminal, just a broken headboard.

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gilverrwrites · 2 months

Text

As Above

Pairing: Oswald Cobblepot/Reader

All you'd wanted were directions to the nearest bathroom, yet somehow you ended up here, on your knees, for one of Gotham's most infamous crime bosses.

Notice: You're currently reading the Fem/AFAB Version.

>[Please click here for alternative versions]<

Rating: 18+

Words: 2.1K

Content: Dub-con, swearing, alcohol consumption/drunk reader, Hybristophilia, dom Ozzie/sub reader, finger sucking, blowjob, dirty talking, (allusions to) slut shaming, cum shot, cum eating.

Please remember: You do not need to prove yourself to anyone.

The sound of your heels clacking against the metal grate stairs is drowned out by the constant and loud thump of music. You’ve been pacing around the upper levels of the club for minutes now, alone amongst a sea of strangers and no closer to finding relief. You should have been more assertive with your friends, should have made one of them come with you, but they were having so much fun, and you didn’t want to be a bother. So now you were lost and still bursting for a piss.

Distressed and eager to find a way out of your predicament, you decide to ask the next person you see for directions, no excuses. Close your eyes, deep breaths, steady, confident. You’re stricken by the sight of the first person you glimpse. He’s older than you would have thought, stout, with thinning hair and a distinct face. Not at all the clientele you’d come to expect from The Iceberg. But still, something about him was captivating. In fact, you’d been so enraptured that he’d almost entirely passed you by.

“Um, wait! Excuse me.” You shout, trying to be heard over the drum and bass as you take long strides to catch up with him. He walks slowly, and with a limp, so you’re by his side in seconds. “Hello?”

He turns his head to face you as he continues walking. His eyes slowly drape across your body, seemingly appraising everything you have to offer. When his eyes finally land on yours, he stops. Deeming you worthy of his time. “Yes dear, can I help you.”

Despite his posture and unbefitting appearance, he bleeds an air of confidence and importance that simultaneously makes you nervous and aroused. “I am so sorry to bother you, but do you know where the bathrooms are? Please?”

“I do, I do.” His checks you out again, nodding to himself as he does. Eyes wander up and down your body; every inch of skin he examines feels hot and tingly, on top of your already intense need to go. Apparently happy with his second examination, like you’ve passed his test, he continues, “Follow me, I’ll take you to them.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much.” You’re practically buzzing now, calmed by knowing you’ve found a resolution; you follow, purposefully remaining a pace behind him so as not to lose sight of him or appear rude by overtaking him. “I’ve been searching for ages. You have no idea how grateful I am for your help.”

“That so?” He responds. You’re sure it’s rhetorical, but you nod anyway. He seems amused, making no effort to hide the pull of his lips as he leads you up another flight of stairs and along yet another industrial-style balcony. “Other than your current predicament, are you enjoying the club?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. The atmosphere here is great, and the music is always amazing. Drinks are a fucking fortune, though, honestly! It’s a good thing my friends and I always pre-game cause I’d have to get a second job to be able to afford more than 3 drinks here.” You’re not sure why you’re rambling so much, but your saviour in purple pinstriped armour seems to enjoy it, letting out a loud belly laugh as you complain.

“A pretty thing like you, surely they’re lining up round the block to buy you a drink.” There was nothing smooth about his voice, but the words flattered you nonetheless.

Unsure how to respond, you resolve to try and change the subject. “What about you? Do you like it here?”

“You could say that.” The answer is cryptic, and you watch him curiously, waiting for him to proceed until you reach the end of the walkway.

You’re standing together outside a red wooden door, a sign read ‘staff only’. All your drunken mind could puzzle together at that moment was: not toilet.

“Ummm.” You look to him for clarification, and he silences you with a raised hand; wait. Then he pulls out a key, unlocks the door and makes his way inside, holding the door for you to follow.

“Bathroom is behind that door.” He points, and you waste no time scurrying over to it, giving him a brief and likely comedic bow as you go.

In true night-out fashion, you’d failed to realise just how drunk you were until you were isolated with nothing but the dim bathroom light and the cold feel of your ass on the toilet seat. At that moment, you promise yourself that you’ll graciously thank your host, find your friends, and head home. You hold onto the thought as you wash your hands and attempt to clean up your smudged makeup with damp fingertips.

You hadn’t taken the time to look at the main room as you beelined for the toilet earlier. As you exit the bathroom, you’re suddenly taken by the luxury of it. Everything appears furnished in either solid oak or soft velvets and leathers. The music from downstairs is barely audible, just the low thrum of the bass seeping through. Your mystery man is seated on the furthest side of the room, looking out at the crowd below through a floor-to-ceiling window that spans the entire wall.

“Oh, wow!” You cross the room until you’re close enough to press your fingers to the cold glass, enamoured by the view. “This is incredible. How have I never noticed this before?”

“You won’t have.” He taps the back of a ringed finger against the window. “It’s one-way.”

“Ooooh.” The crowd below is illuminated by the ever-changing lights, arms and legs move and entwine as they dance to the beat, but when you look over to your host, you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him again. “So… you like, work here?”

He laughs again, exposing a smattering of gold teeth and making his belly jiggle. Any thoughts of leaving have long since passed. “You could say that. I’m Oz.”

Oz… Oswald Cobblepot, The Penguin. You've been complaining about booze prices to The Penguin. He doesn’t work here; he owns here. You realise where you recognise him from. The news, the papers. You’ve seen his name and face associated with several stories, most of them unsavoury. In that moment, you wish the ground would open and swallow you whole.

When he extends a hand, you take it. Barely able to look him in the eye, you focus your attention on his thick, decorated fingers as you introduce yourself.

“I- um- I’m sorry about…” you trail off as he pulls you toward him, until you’re standing between his open legs. He presses the back of your hand to his lip, his kiss is warm against your skin.

“For what?” He’s watching you, closely, enjoying your sheepishness. You can tell by the glint in his eyes.

“For complaining… About the drinks.”

Strong fingers smooth over your exposed thigh, tickling your skin and igniting a heat in your veins.

“Don’t worry about it, Love. I value the honesty.” The cold of his jewellery bites at your heated skin, his hand cups high and hard around the back of your thigh and pulls you closer still. His face is now adjacent to your sternum as he glides his hand up your dress. “Will you tell me something else?”

“Anything.” Your reply is immediate and needy. It surprises you, but instead of pulling away in shame, your drunken body leans in, nestling the lower half of Oz’s face against your cleavage and gently holding him there with your free hand. His dark hair feels soft and fine between your fingertips.

“Do you often let men you’ve just met feel you up like this?” His voice is muffled by your body.

“No.” The way he says it should make you feel ashamed; instead, you feel yourself growing wetter. The shame of being so obedient, so open to being touched and played with by a known crime boss, is a primary cause for your arousal. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Your legs seem tired. Perhaps you should rest them.” A bold finger runs along your clothed slit, and your body shudders in response. “Get on your knees.”

He offers you both his hands and you take them, using him as support as you lower yourself to the ground. When your knees hit the soft carpet, you instantly feel relief, no longer having to support your full weight on your precariously high heels.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Oz coos, and you nod bashfully back at him until he cups your face with both hands. Using his thumb, he directs your head backwards, chin up. You wonder how you must look to him, on your knees, lids heavy, limp and compliant from booze and arousal.

Florals and musk assault your senses when he presses his lips to yours. Strong fingers press against the hollows for your cheeks, and you open your mouth without resistance, expecting a tongue. Instead, you’re greeted by more fingers. You moan at the realisation, eagerly allowing him to press the pads of his fore and middle finger along your tongue in long, languid strokes, inching further back with each stroke until he stimulates your gag reflex, causing your throat to tighten around his fingers.

He hums to himself, evaluating you once again until he praises, “Impressive.”

“Thank you.” Your words come out slurred, and drool slips down your chin as you attempt to speak around his digits.

“Think you’re ready for the real thing?” Unclear if it’s a question to you or a statement to himself, you nod anyway, rocking forward on your knees to present your willingness.

He smirks as he pushes his fingers deeper into your throat once more, making the muscles contract again, and causing the ache between the legs to grow. When he retracts his fingers, a feeble moan slips from your lips.

“Such a good plaything.” He makes quick work of his belt and zipper. His cock is fully erect, and you lick your lips in anticipation. “Go on then, get your lips around that.”

It’s fat and heavy on your tongue, filling your tastebuds with stale saltiness. You work your way up and down his length, tightly sucking the tip and hollowing your cheeks at the base. Any time he lets out a deep moan of his own you’re overcome with pride, growing high on getting him off. You want to hear it again and again.

Eventually, you pull back to take a deep breath, allowing yourself to nurse your aching jaw, but you must take too long for Oz’s liking, his fingers spread at the back of your head, locking on and leading you back onto his waiting cock. His hand remains in its place, directing you up and down, deeper and deeper. You ignore the growing tightness in your throat and the prick of tears forming in the corners of your eyes, fixating on the way your clit throbs every time he lets out a grunt or groan.

“Oh yeah. Keep sucking, just like that.” He huffs each word between hitched breaths, his hands shaking against your head. He’s close, you can tell. You latch your hands around the heels of your shoes, squeezing tight as Oz grips tighter to your head and picks up pace.

How easily he’s turned you into his willing cocksleeve, slack jawed and drooling as he used your mouth to get off. And you’d been the one to approach him.

The tip of his cock hits hard and painfully at the back of your mouth as he jerks your face back and forth. Wetness seeps through your underwear, your pussy desperate for stimulation. He hadn’t told you not to touch yourself. As the thought crosses your mind, Oz yanks you back into reality, literally tugging your head back.

You pant for breath, breathing in sweet, sweet air as you watch on. Oz's free hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping once, twice, and then he’s cumming. Thick, hot, white ropes of cum splatter over your face, your lids close instinctively, preventing it from spraying into your eye. Beads drip into your mouth, assaulting your tongue with its saltiness.

“Lucky me.” Your eyes dart open again at the sound of his voice. He’s leaning forward in his seat, smiling at you as he begins to stroke a finger along your face, scooping up stray pools of his cum, and scooping them into your still-open mouth. “Found myself a sexy little birdie, an I wasn’t even looking. Swallow.”

On command you gulp it all down, grinning from ear to ear when he smiles approvingly at you, showing you those sexy gold teeth again. You remain on your knees as he leans back in his chair, reaches into the breast pocket of his blazer, and retrieves a cigar.

“Now.” He taps your nose lightly with his index finger before lighting up. “Go make yourself presentable, and then we’ll go get you an overpriced drink.”

#the penguin x reader #the penguin imagine #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot imagine #oswald cobblepot smut #the penguin smut #man i havent written penguin in like 6+ years #i hope other people enjoy this #gilverrwrites

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venusandsaturnsrings · 1 year

Note

Cute chubby warm little reader with her disgusting incel bf Ajax :(( Ajax is always admiring her perfect chubby thighs, cute tummy and big breasts:((( he just can't help himself she's just SO cute always greeting him with a smile and excitement and even doing little jumps when extra happy<3 or maybe even incel bf with her she's just so sweet and innocent yk! So polite, sweet and well trained :(( she'd make such a cute little house wife for him not having to worry about anying from money to what's happening around her :(((

(I COULDNT FIND RULES OR IF YOU WERE OPEN SORRY)

hehehe anon u know EXACTLY what i crave what i desire <33 yucky icky incel childe and his cute soft lil gf he foams at the mouth over <3 bee tee dubs, i don’t rlly have rules n such!! ppl can send me whatever whenever n i’ll probably respond at some point maybe!! i have month old things in ma inbox n drafts whoopsies!! but i was quick with urs bc incel childe <3 ^u^ blurb btc!!

Ajax is… slimy. gross. greasy. he’s what most would turn their noses up at but you didn’t. it almost felt as though you pitied him with the way your already doe eyes softened towards him. he knew you let him into your heart and that should’ve been enough but… he had to stay there. had to carve out an Ajax shaped hole to rest for eternity. you were his most beloved and to let you go was a crime, one only punishable by death.

your hands are soft, he notes. softer than his boobie mousepad, softer than his body pillows, softer than… other things. Ajax wants to hold them forever. he adores when you cling to him, wrap yourself around his hand or arm, and stay there like it’s your home. he thinks it’s just adorable the way you giggle and smile up at him, swaying around and chattering away about something that he isn’t listening to because god you look so kissable right now. he wants to kiss you until you’ve both passed out from lack of air and love shared. your lips belong against him in all sorts of ways but right now they should be on his own though, he can’t bring himself to end whatever rant your on for it would stop the sweet melody of your voice. Ajax comforts himself saying he’ll have plenty other chances to kiss you.

he spoils you to bits. his sweet girl is fawning over a little trinket or a new dress? consider it yours! any money spent is worth it to see the happy claps and bounces you respond with and that adorable smile on your face. he’d run his bank account dry, which is nearly impossible, if it equated to seeing your joy.

and oh, your body. he’d love you in any form but your squish tummy and tits? good luck prying his hands from you, you’ll need the jaws of life to get out. Ajax adores being able to nap on your just as squishy thighs while kneading your stomach and breasts like a cat. you’re his own personal stress ball!

Ajax adores his sweet little wifey. he’d go to the end of the universe and back should you request it. <3

#cw: incel #i miss him #i need to write more abt him bc he rlly is my most beloved #so stinky yet i adore him :((#thank u anon for feedin me n indulgin in my incel boy brainrot #incel childe #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #tartagalia x reader

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myinconnelly1 · 3 months

Text

Take Everything

Criminal Minds fic

Spencer Reid x OFC

Summary: Spencer made a poor choice in the past, but when there is an outbreak related to a powerful aphrodisiac in Mia's city and he shows back up, she might have to learn to forgive him.

Warnings: Adult Language, 'sex pollen', dub!con, forensic conversation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, other spoiler warnings in tags

W/C: 2,669

A/N: A special thanks to @firefly-in-darkness for the use of her amazing graphics/dividers. Go check her out.

Mia rubbed her temples as she looked around the crime scene. This was the fourth DOA in two weeks. Mia walked over to where the coroner was with the body. She had donned her gloves and squatted down by the man as he pulled a thermometer from the body.

“I’d say the time of death was between 3 – 5 am. But it’s hard to tell. Based on my previous autopsies, all of the victims had significantly high fevers and this will make my estimations poor at best.” The coroner cleaned his instrument and started to get the body ready for transport. “I can make some preliminary observations that support the use or overdose of Talon. Petechia around the eyes suggests a lack of oxygen. Pupils dilated and the flushed look tone of the skin all point to the hyperactivity of the nervous system.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to wash up,” Mia said as she stood and walked away. She took her gloves off and put them into a hazardous waste baggie.

“Hall, you’ve got to come hear this shit,” Mia’s partner called and she walked outside to join him.

It had been several months since the BAU team had been in this city. Spencer had spent almost two months here before the rest of the team had been invited. He had a personal interest in a case that they had come on, but the locals hadn’t wanted to call in the feds. Six women had died because of the mistrust between the city police and the federal agents.

Reid felt guilty about what he had done, but it’s likely that without him many more people would have died. Hotch had told him that he should never talk about what he had done to anyone after Spencer couldn’t deal with the guilt anymore, but in the end, Hotch agreed that it was a decision that saved several lives.

Deaths related to Talon were piling up all over the country. In a small, diluted amount, Talon was an aphrodisiac. However, in the past couple of months, people, especially teenagers were getting a hold of Talon in its pure form. The fine blue powder could be ingested orally or inhaled.

Hotch, Morgan, and Reid were setting up at the police station, while the others investigated the body in the morgue.

“Morgan, you and Reid start building the geographical profile. I’m gonna talk with the captain, thank him for inviting us, since we had all that trouble last time.” Hotch said before he started to walk into the bullpen.

“This is my case, Captain!

You can’t just give it to the feds without telling me.” Mia shouted from behind a closed door.

“And what kind of progress have you made on this case, Hall?” The captain had raised his voice only to be heard over the woman. “They are here to help us, play nice.”

“Good evening, Captain, thank you for inviting us on this case,” Hotchner said as he opened the door to the office. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, Agent Hotchner, thank you for coming, here is a copy of the case file,” The captain slid the case file over, before walking out from behind his desk to help get the BAU set up.

“Play nice, Hall,”

Mia muttered under her breath as she walked out of the office and saw the other members of the BAU team.

“Fucking bet on it.”

“You okay, Hall?” one of the officers asked as she walked past her desk.

“Fucking fabulous, I’m taking the rest of the night off. Call me if someone dies,” Mia huffed as she very deliberately threw her shoulder to bump into Reid.

“Hey!” Morgan shouted at her as she walked past. Spencer tried to get him to leave the whole thing alone. “What the hell was that about? Wasn’t she the cop that got us invited on the last case?”

“Let it go, I’m sure she is still mad about how many people died last time,” Reid said, his guilt over the entire situation starting to come back to the surface.

“That’s no reason for her to take it out on you,” Morgan said watching the way his friend moved. “You were dating her, weren’t you?”

“Not really,” Spencer said trying to end the conversation and pulled out the maps and such to work on his map.

“Not really? Either you’re with someone or you’re not. Unless Spencer Reid is getting casual with his relationships.” Morgan grinned as he teased the younger agent. Reid’s ears turned red with the embarrassment that his friend was bringing up.

“Listen I don’t really want to talk about it. Can we just work? Things didn’t end well between us,” Reid finished when Morgan gave him a look begging for more information.

“Rossi says all four of the victims tested positive for Talon,” Hotch said as he came into the conference room where Reid and Morgan were set up. “There have been several people that have shown up in the ER recently with high-dose exposure. There is definitely some pure dust on the street.” Aaron put thumbtacks on the board where the DOAs had been and then flagged the locations that the survivors had claimed to have been when they thought they had been dosed.

“This is a lot of ground to cover,” Morgan said.

“We’re gonna need the cops patrolling these areas. It’d be a big help if they were all on our side.” Since the BAU team members had arrived there had been several suspicious looks and some that were downright unwelcoming. “The captain seems on board with getting our help, but I think whatever went down with Reid and Hall is causing some bad blood. I don’t need to know what it was, I’ll go call Garcia and see if we can come up with information based on the map.”

Morgan walked out of the room, obviously making space for Hotch and Reid to talk.

“You should go talk to her,”

Hotch said kindly. “I assuming that you broke things off when the case ended, and you haven’t talked to her since then.”

“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t the best thing to have done. How do I even bring the whole thing up with her? It’s been months and she is still very obviously mad. She probably won’t even talk with me. Do I just knock on her door and say I’m sorry for using you, but my friend was one of the people who was missing, and I needed a way to get on the case, so I used you?” Reid was very obviously flustered as he threw his hands into the air. “I think I really screwed up, Hotch. I think I was really into her, and now I can’t fix it.” Aaron put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to get his attention.

“You don’t know that you can’t fix it, if you don’t try. Go talk to her. Apologize.

At least then she will know that you are sorry,” He said gently.

“Mia?” Spencer called gently as he knocked on her door. The door creaked open slightly when his knuckles rapped on the door. Concern overtook his expression, and he pulled his gun. “Mia! It Spencer, are you okay?” He closed the door and locked it behind himself so that no one would walk in behind him or leave. He heard gasping and crying from around the corner, and he prepared himself for the worst.

Reid nearly dropped his gun when he came around the corner and saw Mia lying on the rug in her living room. Her body was pointed away from him, but he could see that she had undone her jeans and let her hand slip into them and between her spread legs. Quickly, Reid put his gun and holster on the counter and rushed over to her. She was gasping and sweat had beaded all over her body. Gooseflesh pricked at Spencer, and he thought she might have turned the air conditioning to its maximum setting.

“Mia, what happened?”

Spencer grabbed one of the Talon instant test kits that he had started carrying when he was working these cases and went to get a cotton swab before he noticed that the kit already showed a little plus sign. He had simply exposed it to the air, and it was picking up contaminant. “Shit,” He cursed as he pulled out his cellphone and took off his jacket.

“Hotch,” Reid said a little louder than he intended as his teammate answered his call. “I’m at Mia’s, she’s been dosed with Talon. It must have been at her crime scene this morning. Have Paramedics get to everyone on her team that was there this morning.

I have a dose of the counteragent.

I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can get her on her feet.” Reid felt the slick of sweat behind his ear as he hung up his cell phone.

“Fuck!” Mia wailed as she crunched up and grabbed Spencer’s shirt.

“I can’t breathe.” She panted.

“Mia, you’re gonna be okay.

It’s just Talon. I know it hurts,” He whispered as he let himself brush her dark hair out of her face. He was going to need to get her into a shower to lower her temperature. Her skin was clammy with fever, but he was having trouble getting up to move away from her. He felt the muscles in his stomach tightening as she moved her face close to his and her lips brushed over his.

“Why didn’t you want me?”

She groaned as she moved very quickly and straddled one of his legs. “I would have given you anything,” She said.

Reid felt his cock respond to the way that she ground herself against his thigh and the way her husky breath fanned over his mouth. She had always been one to talk when they would have sex and he had never minded. Since he had left, he had often gotten off to the words she had said to him when they were sleeping together. He had kind of thought she was ridiculous when she jumped into their relationship with both feet and told him that she loved him.

“I wanted to give you the world, but thought you would hate me when you found out about the case,”

He admitted as he realized he had never thought to ask her opinion on the whole thing and instead had ended things with her, sparing himself from her ire.

“I never cared about the case, Spence,” She whimpered when his free hand fell to where hers had been when he walked into the house. “I had hoped you would love me back. I wanted to have your baby.” It was Spencer’s turn to groan as slick started to cover his fingers. She had never talked about kids with him during sex.

Sure, he knew she wanted them, but he had been purposely ignorant about it as it pertained to their relationship.

“Make me cum, please,” She cried into his mouth as she kissed him.

It was all he could take.

He knew something was wrong but was unable to feel anything but the heat that was radiating from both of their bodies.

He wrapped his arm around her back and laid down between her legs as they fell open for him. He hadn’t noticed that she had unbuckled his belt and pants, and the way that his cock throbbed should have been a warning that he had inhaled some of the powder that was on her clothes.

Mia wiggled out of her pants as Spencer shoved his own down to his knees. It was the longest he could last without being inside of her. He hooked his long fingers into her panties and hitched them to the side as he filled her completely with a single stroke.

She whined at the sudden intrusion and Spencer thought he might fill her right then with how tight and hot she was.

“Fuck I missed you, I’m not gonna last long,” He groaned as he made small fast thrusts inside of her.

His fingers found her clit again to make sure that she finished before he did.

They were sweating like they had run a marathon when she came and clamped down so hard on him that he saw stars. He came hard.

Mia tentatively wiggled her hips and Spencer expected to be sensitive from his orgasm. But to his surprise, he found he was still hard. Had he been in his right mind he would have realized that Talon was making him hard still, and if they didn’t receive medical attention, they would just continue to fuck each other.

“Want more,” was all that Mia could get out in her feverish state.

“I’m gonna give more,”

He grunted as he leaned forward to start fucking into her again, harder this time. “And you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

“Yes, sir,” She moaned as her eyes crossed. Spencer cursed at her words. She was spurring him on with her sounds.

He had lost count of how many times he had made Mia and himself cum when she rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She took her shirt off and threw it to the side. It had landed on top of Spencer’s cellphone but neither of them noticed that.

“I thought you said you were going to give me everything,” She said as she grabbed his hands and brought them to her breasts as she rode him.

“I will,” He moaned as he rutted up into her. His thighs were starting to burn with the exertion, but he never wanted the feeling of being inside of her to end.

“Give me a baby,” she whined as she fucked him with long strokes.

He sat up and pulled her tight against his chest as they came together.

“Shit, roll over, so I can give it to you deep,” He said practically pushing her off of his dick. He kicked off the rest of his clothes and pulled Mia’s panties off, only just realizing that they had been on this whole time.

“Fuck, Spence, please.”

She cried as he lined himself up.

He took her as hard as he dared, wishing he could get his cum into her womb like this. He was aware she had started to scream his name every couple of thrusts, but neither of them noticed as the EMTs broke in the door with masks on.

Spencer’s fingers curled into her hair as they both came once more before the counteragent was aerosolized.

Mia was sitting on the side of her bathtub rubbing her temples as the headache continued to assault her.

She had woken up first at the hospital almost two days later. She was hooked up to fluids as a nurse was checking her vitals. Apparently, she was going to make a full recovery, but she needed to take it easy, and she was basically doing at-home quarantine.

She had been put on medical leave for three weeks pending her doctor’s approval, a drug test, and a psych evaluation. Something about going through a trauma and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Her drug test was on Monday and her psych eval was later that same day. With any luck, she could return to work. Her whole body still ached, especially her core muscles, and everything surrounding them. Spencer had fucked her well, and she had enjoyed every minute of it. Thankfully he had been texting her and not trying to run away from his problems again. They had some very long conversations about trust, and Mia had decided that she wanted to give him another chance.

The alarm on her phone went off and she hit the stop button before rubbing her temples again.

“Well,” She sighed before taking a picture and sending it to Spencer.

~Are you ready to do this?

~Looks Positive to me

#criminal minds #spencer reid x ofc #police officer!ofc #sex pollen #unplanned pregnancy

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aceantarctic · 6 months

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The Pink Clawed Eclipse

You know, in all the storyshift takes, versions and whatnot, I NEVER see anything done with Mad Mew Mew, which is weird considering her direct connections to MTT and Blooky in canon, you'd think she'd have a more prominent role cause of that. This led me to havin' an idea for what MMM could be like in Storyshift, involving a small bit of reboot's lore and acknowledging some of her subtler connections in Undertale Mew Mew didn't have much to do in her free time, most of the time she just sat in waterfall, pondering and grieving... not like she had anyone to go back to, everyone was either dead or... well the one who was around had better people to talk to than her. They probably don't even remember her for the better honestly But, sometimes she'd venture on down to Snowdin, and at the very end of the forest, there was a door. And a "Overly loud rattling voice" behind it, but that wasn't so bad, not that she finally had someone to talk to... to accept her. And he enjoyed her too! They had so many conversations together Eventually, she noticed that he seemed, quieter than usual, so she asked what was wrong "TELL ME, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT HUMANS?" ... this wasn't a question she was expecting. She wasn't exactly a fan of them but... she didn't hate them either. Human's couldn't of been that bad her cousins were able to befriend one... "Well, they're alright I guess, why you asking?" And so Papyrus explained the events that had transpired to the friend he trusted ...turns out, a group dubbing themselves the "Solar Warriors" had killed a human he'd adopted after they were moved to be with Sans to be protected She was appalled to hear this, someone had killed the princes child.. who CARES with they were human it... WHO DOES THAT?!? And was... No one going to object to their actions? To call them OUT for murder?!? Even if it was a human, surely breaking into the THRONE ROOM is against some sort of law, right? Just cause they're part of a little group shouldn't absolve them of any crimes... ...well, even if others are just willing to ignore that for "the sake of freedom", she isn't. She's getting answers. It didn't take long to find out who was involved or where they where situated (pretty easy to look up articles on the Undernet about what happened.. at least once you know it did) and soon enough, she confronted them at waterfall She was furious and god was she letting it be known, how AWFUL and REVOLTING they were When she asked the warriors why they killed a human despite the fact that both Royals had given her the a-okay to live, she was met with "IT'S FOR THE GOOD OF THE KINGDOM" "IT'S FOR OUR FREEDOM!" "WE'VE WAITED FOR SO LONG!" "IT'S WHAT THE GHOSTS WOULD'VE WANTED!" "YEAH, WE DID IT FOR THEM!" Hearing them say something so WRONG about both the royals AND her cousins... it sent her over the edge These... "warriors" weren't seeking justice or freedom, and this wasn't even about revenge. They just wanted a reason to kill humans, and were willing to use ANYTHING to excuse either actions ...even lying to someone's FACE about what their family would've wanted... And she. wasn't. having. it These people want to act like they're above consequences do they? Well two can play at that game... And she is MUCH better at it than they are Countless screams. Boundless dust. All washed away by the stream of murky water And yet. She couldn't care. Why should she care about a bunch of "no name" liers and murders? She could go back to doing...whatever it was she used to do... ...but what if it happened again? What if they tried to kill another innocent under these hallow excuses? Who would hold them accountable then? ... Guess she just found something else to do in her freetime... and something that'd finally let her atone for failing her family before...

...and there's a certain human in Snowdin who very much does appreciate the "pink clawed eclipse"'s vigilantism.

#mad mew mew #storyshift #undertale #papyrus #mad dummy #chara #solar warriors #undertale alternate universe #undertale au #undertale fanfiction #undertale mad mew mew #mad mew mew undertale #papyrus undertale #undertale papyrus #long post #my art #my fic #my fanfiction

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serpentpoet · 9 months

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fear is the teacher. the first one you've ever had. pt. 1

Summary: Lily McKenna is a new intern at Arkham Asylum, working under the cold and calculating Dr. Crane. However, Crane doesn't know Lily is secretly there to gather proof that her new boss is the infamous masked Scarecrow who has been terrorizing Gotham.

Warnings: this short first part is SFW! will eventually contain rough/graphic smut (consensual) in later parts; warnings will apply then

Genre: OC/Reader Insert (you can read it with whatever MC you have in mind), eventual graphic smut

Pt. 2 here!

“All patients in Block C report to the common area for group therapy.”

The female voice on the intercom crackled above on the bathroom ceiling as Lily took off her heel and sat on the toilet, examining the painful, red blister forming on the back of her ankle. Patent leather, and four inches at that, was obviously not the right choice of shoe she should have worn on a rush through the streets of Gotham. She rubbed her ankle to ease the throb then pulled a Band-Aid out of her purse, placed it over the hurt spot, and exhaled a sigh to calm her nerves.

“Restating: All patients in Block C report to the common area for group therapy.”

A chill swam down Lily’s neck, and she realized that she was currently in the same walls as some of the most malicious and dangerous people in Gotham. She had been prepared for this, knowing what she was getting herself into by accepting the curiously open position from her advisor, but with the masked terrorizor the media dubbed ‘Scarecrow’ on the rise and crime steadily growing rampant in the streets of the once idyllic city, Lily wondered if the security and head psychiatrists were trained enough to protect her. Sure, these thoughts had come up ever since she’d accepted the position, but it didn’t fully hit her until she was inside the darkness of Arkham itself.

Lily was never truly informed what exactly her position at Arkham would be, apart from a semester-long internship with the resident psychiatrists, a coveted position for any psychology post-grad at Gotham University. She had accepted immediately, of course. She’d worked hard to keep her grades up, showing up to office hours and volunteering for conference presentations. Her dedication must have paid off in the eyes of her professors; she’d been the first one recommended to the selective position. Lily turned her wrist over and checked her watch, seeing that she had ten minutes left before she was supposed to arrive. She made sure that her bag still contained her important notebook and folders, slipped her heel back on, and left the stall.

Lily smiled an awkward, close-lipped “hi” to a woman coming into the women’s bathroom, her dark hair pulled oil-slick back into a severe ponytail. The woman started to go into a stall, then hesitated, turning back to Lily.

“You’re….Lily McKenna, right?” the woman asked. Lily turned off the sink and dried her hands on her pants.

“Yeah,” Lily smiled politely at the woman. Her badge pinned onto her navy blazer read Tabby Hunt in bold.

Tabby watched Lily dry her hands on her pants, and her face flashed with sympathy, a split-second wave, one only a psychology student like Lily would register. Tabby cleared her throat.

“They’ve been talking about you all morning. Dr. Crane’s not too happy about getting a new intern this far into the semester,” Tabby said, a bit quiet, as if sharing a secret.

Lily felt a prickling flush spread across her cheeks.

“Crane’s weird these days,” Tabby said, then shrugged off a thought. Lily stood by the sinks, unsure how to respond.

“Am I in the right place?” Lily asked, breathing through a nervous laugh. Tabby nodded.

“Unfortunately,” Tabby responded, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Arkham’s a crazy place to intern. Literally. And Crane’s not an easy boss. He’s already lost two other interns this semester.”

“It’s only February,” Lily said.

Tabby laughed and grimaced. “We know. Just…try to keep your head down in here. Do as you’re told. Don’t correct Crane on anything, even if he’s wrong. He hates being wrong.”

She spoke the last part as if speaking from past experience. Lily nodded.

“Got it. Thanks for the heads up,” Lily said, “Where’s Dr. Crane’s office?”

“You’re on the right floor. Last door to your left down the hall,” Tabby said, then headed into a stall. Lily tousled her hair slightly in the mirror then decided with a determined stride that whatever happened would happen. Her work was always up to par, and she could handle a strict boss for just a few months of a semester. She had more important work to do than that.

The psych hall smelled of faint lemon cleaning supplies and rubbing alcohol, and she heard the muffled ringing of someone laughing a few doors down. Someone was buzzed in behind her, and she was acutely aware of the clicking sound her heels made on the polished linolium. A plump, shiny-faced secretary glanced up through her eyelash extensions at Lily as she passed, then quickly averted her nosy gaze back to her Gotham Home & Gardens magazine.

Lily knocked twice on the door of Dr. Crane - Head Pyschiatrist.

“Come in,” said a voice from behind the door. Lily turned the knob and pushed it open. Dr. Crane took off his silver glasses, folding and placing them carefully–Lily would later note meticulously—on the desk in front of him. He didn’t stand up to greet her as she entered.

“Hi,” she said, a little breathless from the nerves, and the extra careful footing she had to take to make sure she didn’t trip and fall in her heels, and shut the door behind her. Dr. Crane watched her silently, a bit annoyed.

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing, and she sat across from him. Her heart leapt as her eyes met his ice-cold, blue ones, and she crossed then uncrossed her legs once, a nervous habit, before he stuck out his hand to her in greeting. She shook it awkwardly; even his hands were cold from the sterile air. He kept his eyes locked on her face, head a bit cocked to the side. His lips tugged at the corners after he pulled his hand away, an amused expression threatening to break through. She suddenly felt very small under his gaze, scrutinized and examined. Any sane person, and Lily believed herself to be, coudn’t deny that he was cruelly handsome. It didn’t help that she could smell the spice of his cologne from her seat.

“I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m the head psychiatrist at Arkham, but I’m sure you already know that,” he looked at her pointedly before continuing, “I’m assuming you’re Lily McKenna?” he asked her, looking down and reading her name off of a file in front of him. She nodded.

“The new intern?” His eyes flitted up, questioning. She crossed her legs again.

“Um, yeah. Sorry I’m starting so late in the semester. I was just told about the assignment this week,” Lily said, feeling the words come tumbling out of her mouth. Dr. Crane smirked.

“It’s no problem, Ms. McKenna. You’ve probably heard about the others by now. My colleagues are annoyingly…curious,” Dr. Crane said the word with a sharp inflection. “The other interns had the brains, sure, but they didn’t have the, nerve, for working in a place like this. Do you?”

Lily felt herself grow warm even in the cold hospital air.

“I believe so, yes. You’ve seen my grades?” Lily responded.

“Oh yes, of course I’ve seen your grades, Ms. McKenna. But what are grades compared to the violent tendancies of a mad criminal? Grades against someone who kills for fun, who has no other motive but pure love of chaos, who can’t be ‘cured’ by textbook therapy?” Dr. Crane asked, his eyes studying Lily’s face for any sign of an expression.

“I believe I have the nerve, sir,” Lily said, flatly and with a hint of annoyance at being interrogated.

“Good,” Dr. Crane smirked, shutting the folder with her name on it. He opened the desk drawer next to him and put the file inside. Lily would later recall the odd fact that he’d locked it. She clutched her bag to her tighter.

“We’ll start you off easy anyway,” he said, standing up and looking through a standing file cabinet behind him. Lily eyed the angles of his body, his shoulders, his jawline. He was made of sharpness. Everything about him was frigid. He caught her gaze, pulling out a manila folder. She looked away.

“This patient came in just this week. I’d like you to do some paperwork like this before I let you near the actual patients, even as observation. It’s just protocol, Ms. McKenna,” Dr. Crane said, sitting back down. Lily nodded.

“This is Adam Nielson. Former night shift security guard at Gotham Bend Nuclear Plant,” he said, showing her a picture of the patient clipped to the top of the first page, a man in his late forties with a receding hairline and partial beard. “Nielson claims that one night he was attacked by a masked figure who made him, quote, ‘go crazy’. That night, he murdered his entire family with a screwdriver,” Dr. Crane looked up, making sure Lily was listening. A pause. He went on.

“You can use the file room adjacent to mine to take your notes. There’s a table and a chair in there,” he gestured to a door to the righthand side of his office.

“Okay,” Lily responded, shifting awkwardly in her seat. Dr. Crane flitted his eyes down to her bag then locked eyes with her again.

“Tell me, Ms. McKenna,” her name emphasized and said with a bit of dripping mockery. “What do you know about fear?”

“Fear, sir?” Lily responded.

“Yes, fear. You’ve not read my dissertation?” Dr. Crane cocked his head to the side. Lily shook her head no. He sighed.

“I see Gotham University’s still sending me clueless interns,” Dr. Crane stood up again, locking his hands behind his back and looking out of the window out onto the smoggy streets of Gotham. From Lily’s seat, she could see two men fighting by the dumpsters below. One man held out a knife to the other in a threat.

“Fear is the great teacher. The first one you’ve ever had. A child learns to fear the hot eyes of an oven when they place their hand on it and get burned for the first time. It is more than emotion. It is more than just fight or flight responses. It is everything at its most simplistic core. It is intertwined with everything. It is a lack of control. Do you understand?” Dr. Crane turned around, walking slowly towards her until he was towering over her from behind–a hawk. Lily crossed her legs tighter.

“Do you understand this, Lily? The dance of fear and control?” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice barely above a whisper from above and behind her. Lily felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.

“From my research, I happen to believe fear is simply fight or flight response. It is our evolved brain’s way of survival,” Lily said back, and she felt Dr. Crane’s breath hitch from behind her. An angry stride in his step, he circled back to his desk, and sat down.

“Then your research is flawed. We’ll see if that answer changes after your time working for me. I want you to read Nielson’s file then report back to me what you think about him and his possible conditions. Don’t write me a paper, Ms. McKenna. Four or five sentences will do,” Dr. Crane handed her the folder, and she took it from him.

Lily nodded, putting the folder in her bag. Dr. Crane watched her movements as she walked away. He put his glasses back on and unlocked the desk drawer.

Lily closed the door to the file room behind her and turned on the light. Without the gaze of Dr. Crane, she suddenly felt much less confined. His very presence, his demeanor, was stifling. The wan light above her hummed softly, and she sat down at the folding table in the middle of the room, putting Adam Nielson’s folder to the side. She took off her heels, rubbing the backs of her ankles again. After a moment, she pulled a different folder out of her bag, glanced at the closed door–silence from Dr. Crane’s end–then opened the document. Dr. Crane’s picture was paper-clipped to the top of the first page of many, a picture barely doing him justice to how much of a menacing presence he truly carried. Lily uncapped a red pen and wrote, “Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D. – Confirmed Scarecrow” at the top of the page, closed the folder, slipped it into her bag again, then began writing the assigned report.

Pt. 2

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy #batman fanfic #dc scarecrow #dc scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x oc #scarecrow x oc #dc batman #arkham scarecrow

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13eyond13 · 2 years

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Misa amane isnt funny. A sense of humor depends on each person thats why it's the hardest when aurhors write comedy. Look at the guy getting punched by will smith. Not all the jokes will have buyers. Misa is secondly the most favorite character of the author (aka mary sue). Thats why she never dies onscreen, despite she halved her lifespan twice. She gets away w/ her murders in the tv show, in the musicals, etc etc. Shes over sexualized by the anime studio - on demand of tsugumi, because he created her jus' in order for fanservice. She acts childish all the time and its dangerous when you think about the crimes against children. Shes a poser, shes from kyoto but she uses the tokyo accent - that partly is a fault of aya hirano. Ayas voice is really terrible, i prefer the eng dub or the manga itself lol. She can't speak there - you have the mute option always anyways. The manga is much more beautiful - when compared. I hate misa because shes an annoying chick, not that i prefer lxlight. I think L should get misa so my light could be free . i ship him with kiyomi and mikami and yuri altogether. So what? Don't "misas backstory" me. Not everyone has to agree with her just because she saw her parents getting murdered. You know what? Not all the people go thru traumas and go be an idol. Grow up people. This chick is the epitome of mary sue and misogyny. This has nothing to do with lawlight.

#youre the same anon who got mad that i dont think light is a chef arent you #ask #anon #p

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 10 months

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Pillars of salt, pillars of sand: Chapter 12: The house that carries the dragon (Aegon x oc, aemond x oc)

CONCEPT: You were once a princess, now you are Aemond's prisoner. You are taken to King's Landing to bend the knee to Aegon

WARNINGS FOR READING: This fanfiction is dark. It will contain themes as: Non-con, dub-con, dom/sub themes, murder, torture, blood, graphic descriptions of sex, graphic descriptions of murder and graphic description of torture. As well as animal abuse, war crimes, genocide, massmurder, sadism, power-abuse and incestious relationships, as well as mentions of pregancy, abortion and childloss Warnings will be updated as the fic goes on

5k its not a small chapter and a looot happens

You weep and mourn your past life as well as your future, tears escaping your left and right eye one at the time.

Aegon grabs hold of your left hand, turning you to face the crowd, presenting you to his court. His smile is sincere and wonderful. You feel as the princess but not the one who got saved by a handsome prince. You are locked in the tower, instead. And your King is no fairytale prince, but a monster that hides behind a pretty mask.

The King of the Seven kingdoms, and your husband slowly brings his face closer to yours, grabbing your chin gently so you won't dare to turn away from what comes now. Your legs tremble as you follow his lips, who become closer and closer to yours. He closes his bright eyes and plants a soft kiss on your lips. The crowd claps, approving of the marriage at long last.

You dreamt of having a romantic first kiss. You should have been more brave. Perhaps you should have just kissed a squire at Dragonstone, Coyln. He was always kind to you. He winked a lot, perhaps he was interested. Now your first kiss belongs to Aegon; a man who claimed thousands. It won't matter to him. Neither will your innocence. Neither will your misery.

Even the royal family honors you both with applause. Otto’s smirk makes you want to take the pin of the Hand of the King and slice his throat open. Helaena smiles brightly, pretending very well. But you can see that is crying as well. And not of joy.

Alicent scratches her head, uncomfortable and Aemond is just enjoying himself and your misery very much. He has a smirk on his lips, betraying he enjoys your misery very very much.

Aegon speaks to the crowd as their King and ruler and you? You meekly rub your own arms and try to stop from crying. You should be proud and strong. Your mother was forced to marry her cousin. But your father Laenor was not a raper. Aegon is. ‘’My good people!’’ Aegon's voice has stopped wavering and stopped being soft. He speaks as a king now, no longer whispering childish insults. He shouts. At full force now. ‘’To celebrate my marriage to the Princess, we hosted a banquet outside for you to enjoy. Delicious food from all over the Seven Kingdoms will be present, as well as plenty of wine to wash it all down.’’ He chuckles and some of his court men laugh along. ‘’Enjoy yourselves! The way I will enjoy myself during my wedding night.’’ You freeze, your blood burning in your skin.

Ser Tyland Lannister does not waste a moment. ‘’To king Aegon II!’’ He shouts, and not soon after everyone in court joins him, showing you that you have no friends nor allies here.

‘’Hear hear!’’

The crowd is finally leaving the throne room, heading to the halls for the festivities. You remain at Aegon’s side, your hands clumsily folded over one another.

Only members of the Royal family remain. Helaena is the first to congratulate you, despite being the farthest away. ‘’A wonderful wedding.’’ She tells you when taking your hands. She looks at your pulled nails and sighs and gives you a warm pat on your back.

Otto congratulates his king first. ‘’Good job, Aegon. You opening our gates to the peasants of King's Landing is a wise move. It will be appreciated.’’ You are unaware he was even planning to let the peasants enjoy your wedding meal. His court? It was obvious. But the peasants? The lowborns? That would be clever, and you hate yourself for admiring Aegon for it. It will be a great publicity stunt. And a really good one. Love goes through the stomach, after all.

Not everyone can appreciate how clever Aegon has become.

‘’Unless those peasants loot our castle and kill us all.’’ Aemond remarks. Otto pays him no mind. You study Aemond carefully and everything about his stance, his hands on his back and his dismissive glare tells you enough. He is just a little jealous brat who got upset that his brother outshines him once more. The throne was always Aegon’s, as was the crown. But clever plots, plans, winning schemes and lies? That was Aemond’s. Perhaps it was all he ever had and found pride in.

You are aware this is a declaration of war, in his eyes.

You are ignored, however. You think back on what the maid told you. No one will speak to you from here on. Does it even include your tormentors? You feel sick. Aegon proudly smiles, thankful for the compliment and for once he is not the disappointment. ‘’I am thankful Rhaenyra and Daemon stayed away. I still have nightmares of that old bitch coming through the floors of the pit.’’ He shudders dramatically and his mother smiles, adjusting his crown for him so it's not titled on his head.

Aegon sighs deeply but allows this. Helaena mutters something. ‘’The beast beneath the boards...The beasts in the skies..one beast falls. Yet four shall die.’’ You want to ask her what she means by that, as it does not make sense. Yet the Hand of the King has other plans.

Otto sees your teary face and your increased trembling. ‘’You did good as well, Princess Maella. Your mother has not been known for her diplomacy as well as her manners. I expected a tantrum to say the least…’’ You nod, forcing yourself to laugh before briefly swaying on your feet, as it all becomes too much too fast. You end up on the stones, hitting your head and your back painfully.

The darkness has surrounded you and your legs finally gave out. ‘’Oh my.’’ A voice comment you recognize as Ser Criston’s. Your headache is so intense that you won’t prefer to see anything, but you have to see what your enemies are doing. So you force them open, despite how small your eyelids are opened.

‘’Fetch her a chair.’’ Alicent's voice is higher because of the worry in her voice. ‘’And fetch a maester.’’ You turn your head to Aemond out of habit. He had most to gain by poisoning you. Yet he seems shocked, surprised and worried. Until the scowl comes back, and the man is pushed behind the beast again. Your eyelids fall close.

Two arms lift you from the ground, dragging you over the floor and planting you on a seat that is not comfortable nor far. Your eyes weakly open and you stare at Aegon's worried face, his crown tilted on his head. He smiles cautiously when you open your eyes. You understand you are sitting…

On the Iron Throne.

‘’Aegon.’’ Aemond hisses. ‘’What in the name of the gods-’’ Aegon cared so little he placed you on the Iron Throne itself. His family is as mortified and horrified as you are, staring with big eyes, open mouths and utter shock and terror as if sitting that throne made you their rightful ruler.

Aegon, in all his humbleness or craziness, does not see the issue. ‘’It is no issue. She needed to sit. My throne was not being used. She can sit it for now.’’ He says, a bit annoyed by the dramatics of his family. If anyone saw this, if anyone knew this…

Good thing the guests have left.

Aemond's good eye twitches dangerously as his anger consumes him. He would never place a bastard on the Iron Throne. ‘’There are forty rows of benches!’’ He screams, losing his control, and indeed you stare at the wooden oak benches that were used for the ceremony. You tremble slightly at his hard voice and Aegon protectively shields your body a tiny bit as an impulse and raises his eyebrows at his brother.

‘’I'd rather have you all get worked up about my wife nearly fainting. That is what I'm worried about. What did she eat? Drink? Any perfumes, dresses, sharp objects, injections, plants that touched her skin?'’ He thinks you are poisoned. How adorable. You are not poisoned.

Alicent shakes her head, trying to create distance between you and the King at all costs. Your influence and Aegon’s reaction…It scares her. You were dragged in here as a prisoner. Now you are sitting in the highest seat in the realm. Alicent is terrified. ‘’The Princess's tasters have not reported to be sick.’’ She tells him to calm him down. Now your eyebrows raise. You have …tasters? Multiple? For…anything?

You blink. ‘’I have tasters?’’

Otto huffs, insulted that you would assume otherwise. ‘’Of course you do. We wouldn't want anyone to hurt you, your highness.’’ You suppose it would make their plans difficult if you were dead. They don’t want outsiders to hurt you. Otto approves of his grandsons torturing, raping and hitting you. He encourgares them to do so, you just know it.

‘’Nykeā syt ao naejot ossēnagon aōla gō aegon ēdan zȳhon kirimves rūsīr ao.’’ Aemond speaks in fluent Valyrian. You only growl by his cowardice. He uses this language to insult you so his mother won’t discipline him. Or for you to kill yourself before Aegon had his fun with you. That is what he said.

You attempt to rise, but Aegon pushes you back against the back of the throne, shaking his head. ‘’Let me.’’ He whispers. You give a hesitant soft nod.

Aegon turns to his brother, despite that Aemond is taller, Aegon is just as terrifying. Perhaps even more. You watch as the two dragons spit fire at one another, talking rapidly in the ancient language that belongs to your shared ancestors. ‘’Ao vestragon naejot forget nyke gūrēntan se ēngos hen uēpa hae sȳrī, valonqar.’’ (You seem to forget I learned the tongue of old as well, little brother.) He is insulted.

Aemond’s Valyrian is more fluent but Aegon’s is more barbaric. It is less elegant when he speaks it, he spits out the words as blows, when Aemond rolls the words over his tongue speaking and pronouncing them perfectly with an impressive accent as well. Aemond is no fool, however. He understands he can’t upset his king. Not too much at least. ‘’Ao kostagon daor ivestragī nykeā līve sit bona dēmalion’’ (You cannot let a whore sit that throne) But reason never worked well with Aegon. You sigh. Not these vile accusations again. You are not a whore.

If anyone is a whore, it is Prince Aemond and Aegon. Who else let themselves be used for dirty schemes as if they are puppets moving on a string? You would never allow your own mother to command you to marry a stranger, or a raper unless your family would be in peril.

The two dragons continue to growl at one another, as Aegon leaves the Iron steps to the throne, walking past swords of fallen enemies of House Targaryen. You wonder if Aemond’s sword will soon be added to that pile. ‘’Nyke ūndegon daor līve. Ziry iksos vok.’’ (I see no whore. She is pure.) He is defending you. He believes you.

Aemond chuckles as you glare, comfiring to him that you are untouched. He does not believe it once more. ‘’Yet pōnta call issa se laesdaor mēre. (Yet they call me the blind one.) ‘’I am your loyal subject, your faithful servant and your own blood, my King. You must handle the Dragon Princess with a firm hand, not a soft glove. You will see in time it is all for the better.’’ He is discussing abusing you. He is suggesting to his king that you must be beaten and slapped into obedience. You gulp.

Your voice rings out before you can stop the words. They are breakable and soft. ‘’Are you mad?’’ You ask, when rising from the throne. Your body sways but you balance yourself easily, coming closer to the two Targaryens.

The king of the Seven Kingdoms takes your legs in and your trembling hands. ‘’Sit down, my wife. Prince Aemond merely makes a suggestion, one I will certainly consider.’’ Ordering you is not enough. He has to escort you, to force you to sit back on the Throne and to lay a hand on your left leg so you will remain.

You find it ridiculous how much Aemond is getting away with. He should be punished, if anything.‘’Is it him who shall speak upon marriage matters? He is not even married yet! He knows nothing about marriages and politics. He is a spoiled little boy who stole a dragon…’’Your voice is cut off sharply when Aegon leans in closer to your face, anger written in his eyes.

‘’Enough, Maella. That is an order from your king.’’ You glare, yet you are frightened to speak another bad word. Aemond smugly smiles, happy with your silence and the new tears that burn hard in your eyes.

Aemond moves closer taunting you.

‘’I told you: You married a brat, instead of a Princess. You will do well to tame her. If the concept disgusts you, I would be more than happy to tame the Princess. Her brother obeyed perfectly once I took both his eyes.’’ He brags, as anger burns deep inside of you, threatening to ruin it all by hooking Aemond on his chin or slapping the light out of his other eye.

You expect Aegon to laugh, amused and to agree. Instead he barks at his brother as a feral dog, surprising everyone at court. He is a wildfire waiting to happen. Any moment he can unleash and burn everyone and everything arround him to the ground. ‘’You have tormented her enough, Aemond. You have brought shame upon our house by how you treated your own blood. Maella was a prisoner under your care. You will lay your hands on her again, when I am cold in my grave. Is that understood?’’ Now it is your time to smugly smirk and to lean back on the throne, pleased.

‘’As crystal, your grace. Please, forgive me. I was …I didn’t think…’’ Aemond’s voice cuts off, and you see that the bastard is tearing up in front of your brother, and his family members. Aegon is shocked, and his hard glare softens as if looking at an adorable lion pup that will scratch open his throat in a mere moment. You do not buy his crocodile tears. Of course you don’t. But Aegon wants to believe it, so he does.

Aemond continues his performance when you sigh, unimpressed and annoyed.

‘’You grew up so fast these days. I will refrain from improper comments on the Princess. She will be treated as I would treat my own sister, your Grace.’’ He promises the king.

Which pleases Aegon greatly.

‘’That is all I want, Aemond. Come, let us get something to drink. Maella can rest.’’

‘’What is next? Shall we allow peasants to sit the throne for 2 silvers-’’ Before Aemond is done joking, Aegon has punched him in his face. Ser Criston reacts very quickly, separating the two before one can kill the other.

Aemond understands this is a warning sign of not crossing the king any further. ‘’Maella will sit the throne until she is well enough to stand. She is my wife.’’ He growls. ‘’You are all insane for taking that damn Iron thing so seriously! I will decide who sits it, and who won’t. Maella is my consort, but she won’t ever be my equel. I will rule and I will rule alone.’’ He declares. You had no desire to rule. Or any desire for power. But Aegon will make a horrible king.

Finally, the Kinslayer has enough. ‘’Grandsire, tell him this is insanity!’’ He barks at Otto who nervously looks between the two dragons, unaware what they are saying to one another.

Otto does understand the importance of you, a bastard, sitting the throne. Of you, your mother’s daughter, sitting the throne. Of you, a woman, sitting the throne. It goes against everything the Greens believe in. ‘’It is unwise to have Maella sit the throne, your grace. You should not have done so.’’

Aegon’s short silver hairs briefly touch his neck when he throws his head in his neck with a sigh. ‘’No one but us is here to see it. What are you all even moaning about?’’ He is so unserious. How will he even win a war?

‘’Now, fetch me the damn maester so he can tell me what happened to my wife.’’ He warns Alicent and Criston. ’Your King orders you to do so.’’ He adds when Otto opens his mouth to protest. Aegon walks back to you, and for a moment you hold your breath. He peacefully hums to himself, inspecting your features and touching your face gently, with the back of his hand.

Alicent attempts to leave as well. Aegon turns around, for one final moment. ‘’Wait. Ser Cole. Escort my mother. Ser Dayen, you can keep a close eye on my sister and our children. Please bring them somewhere safe.’’ He orders the guards. Cole does not trust you at all. Alicent is escorted, as well as Helaena with her three children. Otto goes with her. As does Alicent.

‘’Who will attend to your safety, your grace? I won't let you be here with her alone.’’ The Dornish bastard speaks, as if he is off to die on a loyal mission defending the true ruler.

The one-eyed prince is the one who surprises you the most, still with his red cheeks from the beating he speaks. ‘’I will be here." He announces. ‘’I will guard my brother, with my sword and life if need be.’’ You don’t speak but you don’t have to. The uncertainty is written across your face.

You find it all a tad dramatic. You are not poisoned. You are just you. You have had these occurrences a lot. ‘’I don't like the idea of leaving both of you with her either.’’ The King’s guard glares in your direction as if it is supposed to scare you.

And it is utterly foolish that he even thinks that you will attack Aemond or Aegon. They have swords. You do not. You become outraged. And your tongue slips. ‘’My, aren’t I quite the woman, that I can outwit two grown men with swords and combat training? Or were you just as bad as a teacher as you are a lover, Ser Criston?’’ You deal a blow to him, bigger than any hammer or deeper than any dagger.

First he is shocked you dare to say it. Alicent, your mother and him made an agreement that no one would ever know. Even Aemond and Aegon are nailed to the ground. Aemond looks hurt that his father figure slept with that whore. He is disgusted, enraged and betrayed. Aegon? Aegon is amused, delighted, perhaps he is even admiring Cole for his guts.

‘’A lover? Did you took my sister as your lover?’’ Ser Criston refuses to answer Aegon.

‘’Craven.’’ You speak, your voice cold as metal and emotionless. You are good at making your voice toneless. ‘’My mother is not the only one who is a whore. Ser Criston soiled his cloak, his only prized possession to fuck my mother in her bedchambers as a thief who snuck in. He assaulted her virtue.’’ You speak. ‘’He should be hanged.’’

Criston finally defends himself, but very poorly.

‘’It was no assault, your mother took my helmet and begged-’’ You get terrible images in your head that no daughter wants about her own mother.

You do sense a in. ‘’Oh, yes. Is that what you want to say? That you could not defend yourself against a little girl? Ser Criston, just leave. You make yourself seem more and more ridiculous with every useless breath you take.’’ You chuckle, as the silence grows. And the worst part for Cole….

The worst part…

Neither Aemond or Aegon call him back. They are hurt, betrayed and angry. ‘’I don’t take orders from you. Only from the Prince and the King.’’ Cole eyes the two as a lost puppy that found his mother.

You become impatient. You already know what is ailing you, you know it. So, you need to scare Criston away. And you have just the thing for that. Aemond does not even look him in the eye anymore. ‘’You can go, Ser Criston. I will defend my brother from now on.’’

The kingsguard leaves, shocked and shattered. You call him back.

‘’Wait. Ser Criston.’’

He stops, hopeful. You crush that hope within mere moments.

‘’Do me a favour. I am in the mood for some oranges. A little birdy told me you know where they go.’’

One time, your mother was having an affair with Criston. While she valued him greatly, he was not her love of her life. He was a good friend, and it hurt her badly when she lost him. He wanted her to leave the crown, all of it to go somewhere else. On a ship full of oranges. So, whenever Daemon and your mother felt as being intimate your mother would joke she needed new oranges.

That she told you about this scandalous mistake hurts him deeply. It shames him deeply that you bring it up in front of Aegon and Aemond who clearly mean a lot to him. Monsters seek monsters, gods seek gods. Criston takes his leave, as Aemond stands in front of the throne, shielding his brother and taking out his sword.

You feel weak and vulnerable and yet you sit in the most powerful seat in the realm. This throne does not mean anything. It wields no power. It is as useless or powerful as one makes it. Aegon leans in closer to you. ‘’You scared me.’’ He whispers, ignoring Cole, his brother, all of it. This man confuses you greatly. One moment he is ready to kill, ready to smile, ready to fuck..it all changes so quickly in that funny head of his.

You do not want him to fetch the maesters. Not after the grand maester was so keen on touching and inspecting you, the old creep. ‘’I don't want to see the maester.’’ You whisper back.

Aegon sighs, but nods, talking to you as if you are a little helpless girl.

‘’You must. You are sick.’’ He says, as a loyal husband would. ‘’You must see someone, this is not healthy.’’

You chuckle. ‘’It is nothing, I promise. I have these occurrences often.’’ They are normal to you. It depends how stressed you are, how many people attend and how much noise there is, but usually it happens around every 3 weeks once.

His eyes mirrors a soul full of worry.

'’’How often?’’

You sigh. Perhaps another agreement can be made.

‘’I will tell you; but please don't let that old fuck touch me.’’ Carefully, very carefully his lips curl into a smile when he chuckles amused by you insulting that old fuck. He touches your fingers, intertwinging a few with his own.

His voice is soft when he whispers back to you. ‘’We have an agreement.’’

You try to describe it. It is very difficult. It describes the unknown or hell. You do not know because you have never been. ‘’It…It comes from within. It is not that I don't enjoy balls or feasts. I love being there with my family. I love dancing, even. I enjoy the food…’’ In all accounts, you should enjoy balls and feasts. Not dread them.

‘’But?’’

You like that he cares. He genuinely seems to care about your ‘’illness’’. ‘’After being there for a while, I notice changes. I notice that the conversations become loud as if they are all shouting. The conversations blur together. My blood turns cold, my back shivers and I have a headache.’’ You relive it, partly. ’My body tells me to flee. But my duties tell me I can't. Often, I seek peace and comfort at balconies or in the gardens. The fresh air helps me greatly.’’ It does. It helps clear your mind and grant you peace.

‘��What did your own maester at Dragonstone say?’’ He asks, curious.

You remember his explanation briefly.

‘’They are aware of it. It is not deadly nor is it a disease. It can't be cured.’’

‘’Maybe they haven't searched hard enough.’’ The determination in his voice shocks and surprises you, yet it intrigues you.

You don’t like the idea of a cure. You were born as you were born. ‘’Perhaps…Perhaps I don't want a cure. It will take away the bad parts but what else will it take away? I don’t want anyone deciding who I am. I made that choice myself. ’’ Aegon has leaned in even closer, a fascinated smile on his lips as he studies you closely. He has sparkles in his eyes, enjoying your tales. He sees what you see. You see a mirror.

You notice you blush as well, enjoying the company of your uncle too much for this moment. This moment is nice. Of course you enjoy his kindness and his care. But you don’t matter to him. Not really. You must shield your heart before it shatters. ‘’I'm rambling. I'm sorry you should go attend your duties.’’

Aegon huffs, leaning much closer and caresses your cheeks. You are conflicted. Part of you enjoys this, but another part knows he is your enemy, he is married, he has children, this affective side might be a lie and it certainly won’t last. ‘’I am attending to my duties. I am taking care of my lady wife….’’ Aegon closes his eyes again and goes in for another kiss. You understand that Aegon holds the power. And if you wish to hold some as well, it is best to get on his good side.

Or perhaps, you find him a little too handsome, a little too sly, a little too curious and a little too wild. He is a dangerous mix of wine and herbs you keep taking. You close your eyes as well, sitting up so you may reach his lips. Aegon’s eyes open, carefully and he smiles brightly as you softly lean in ready to kiss him on his lips. Both your eyes close, and you feel his warm hands caress your face as you slightly and hesitantly reach closer and closer….

Until someone startles you.

Someone coughs.

‘’Ahum!’’ Aemond’s cough stops the kiss, the romantic sphere and the thoughts you should not have. You quickly sit back in the chair and you notice Aegon’s smile has turned into a disappointed frown. Aemond smugly smiles at you, pleased to have interrupted this moment. At the same moment the maester and Alicent return.

‘’Ah, princess. You were not well?’’ The Maester asks, excited. You feel your stomach turn.

Aegon is annoyed as well, but perhaps he is more upset the moment got interrupted.

‘’It has been solved, Grand Maester. Return to your rooms. They were mere jitters. Any bride has them.’’ They were more than that, but you let Aegon speak. This is the better version.

Aemond seeths his steel sword as you finally stand up from the throne. Aegon offers you his hand, yet you raise on your own. He smiles as if admiring you and allows you to go first before following you down to where his family is waiting. ‘’We will talk about it tonight. Are you well enough to attend our wedding feast?’’ He asks, dragging you with him. You stumble behind his tall legs and follow him, a little confused as to where you could be going. ‘’We are going to eat first. Fucking takes engery. You don’t look like you have an appetite for anything healthy, so please, take whatever pleases your eye or stomach.’’ He presents the hall filled with tables of delicious snacks and dishes to you.

You join Aegon, inspecting the buffet that was made in your honour, as you take in delicious and foreign foods, as well as local dishes. ‘’Look, fresh Waffelstroops from the North.’’ Aegon whispers, pointing with one of his fingers to the table. And indeed, covered in syrup and freshly baked, there is your favourite food in the entire world. Wafflestroops.

You are confused to see them here. ‘’How did you know-’’ you laugh, interrupting yourself. He asked a servant. That is why.

Aegon walks you to the table. ‘’I do remember some things. When we visited the Starks with the entire family, you were so keen on the Waffelstroops. Your hands were sticky as was your dress but you did not care. I believe you ate twenty on one day-’’ You can’t help but laugh at that memory, shocked that he seemed to remember anything about you but being a brat.

‘’Sixteen.’’ You correct him. ‘’There were only sixteen. Lord Stark had to fetch his Maester, and mother told me I would not eat waffles for another year.’’ You didn’t have any waffles, ever since. You were that sick, that you would not enjoy them anyway.

Aegon searches his pocket for coin before realising he does not need to pay the man making the waffles. ‘’One Waffelstroops for the princess, please and thank you.’’ He says very politely. The man nods and picks up a deliciously big waffle for you, dripping with syrup still warm.

‘’Thank you?’’You ask, confused.

Aegon hides his blush, shrugging.

‘’A small servitude. He did not have to share his wares with us.’’

There is that stupidity and innocence again. How can a man so rotten be so innocent and blind? ‘’He had. Your mother and grandsire would have turned him into a waffel if he had not." You say dryly, biting of a good big part of your waffle. You are feeling genuinely happy for the first time since you married Aegon. He watches you, mostly.

Aegon chuckles. ‘’May I, princess? There is some on your chin..." He gently brushes his fingers against your chin, removing the sticky syrup from your chin. You let him. You chuckle. From across the room, you notice two or rather one hateful eye glaring at the both of you. You notice your uncle watching. So, you move closer to the King and giggle. You never giggle. Now you do.

The sound annoys Aemond even more, as you well know.

‘’Eat as many as you like.’’ Aegon whispers to you when his grandsire is approaching. He puts your own hands and his hands on your belly and gives your hair a soft kiss. ‘’It will help our baby grow.’’ He whispers, causing you to nearly spit out the waffle you had picked up. You laugh, nervous and terrified. You are not hungry anymore. Aegon takes off, leaving you assuming you won’t be foolish enough to run.

Out, you need to get out. Away from Aegon, his insanity and this cursed castle. You can’t escape on your own however. But who could possibly help you? Servants won’t risk it and you can’t risk it that they will tell Aegon. You need someone who does not fear Aegon, someone who sees him as the idiot who he is for this match, for this arrangement. Someone as…….

You notice Aemond glaring from across the room, drinking his misery away as well. Your lips curl into a smile as you make your way over to him, ignoring all the other guests and attendees. You take a seat next to him and greet him as if you don’t hate one another. Aemond does not greet you, glaring as you rub your hands clean on your wedding dress. He is insulted. Perhaps you laid it on a bit too thick. ‘’Uncle, would you care to join me in the garden? We have much to discuss, you and I.’’ You tell him. You watch as his eye slightly widens in surprise before a pleased smirk grows on his lips. He carefully eyes the room and notices that Aegon is gone. As is Otto. He smiles, lazily coming from the couch before taking your hand and dragging you with him to the gardens. Your heart pounds fast and your legs shake. You hope Aemond will agree to this. And you hope that Otto keeps Aegon away long enough. Finally, Aemond sits down on a bench in the gardens, the same you were crying on earlier. ‘’Out with it, Lady Strong. I might get my hopes up if you won’t.’’

You smile, coyly. ‘’Its just we rarely seen one another.’’ He stares at you with bluntness and cruelty. ‘’You smell good as well....’’ You lean in closer to him.

Aemond chuckles, delighted yet he makes sure there is new distance between the two of you, as he takes your cup of wine from your hands, placing it on a nearby table. ‘’Gods, you really are a maiden, aren't you?’’ You must look so ridiculous. You really thought you were subtle. ‘’Do you have any idea how desperate you look? Anyone can see what you are plotting.’’ He chuckles.

With a growl, you come closer, chasing after him. ‘’Alright, I'll be honest. Aegon cannot marry me if I am already wifed. Can he?’’ you ask, but you know the answer. The cup drops from Aemond’s hands, wine spilling over his clothing as he gawks at you, in a delightfully innocent and confused manner. He is shocked.

His lips tremble and for the first time the fearless boy is scared. ‘’You wish me to do what?’’ You rethink your plans one final time before asking your uncle for his permission. Civil war is coming one way or another.

‘’I wish you to get Vhagar. I wish you to take me with you, and I wish for you to bring me back to Dragonstone. Your brother will never give you an inch of power. But your sister might. Become a war hero, bring me home.’’ You take a deep breath. Aemond needs to be bought. You hope he still wants this. You hope he will accept this. ‘’And in return, I will become your wife instead, never shall I leave your side, never shall I reject your needs. You will be my lord and my husband. My king, if you wish it. You will have me in every way that you want…’’ Your words are interrupted as Aemond briefly exhales, and you can’t tell if he is annoyed or perhaps picturing his life with you. ‘’But please, for the love of the gods, for the sake of our shared House, for the sake of the House that carries the Dragon’s sigil: Bring me home.’’

---

a/n thank you for reading:))

i appriciate it.

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meirimerens · 1 year

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it seems to me that the deal with pathologic 2 english dubbing is entirely dividing all of the characters into three categories: British, South Park character and Women (with intended derogation). honestly drives me insane a bit because with russian well we don't really have that distinct of accents so everyone kinda sounds the same in that manner... and it almost feels less theatrical (maybe it should. but the way english dubbing sounds theatrical To Me is. well. NAWT GOOD) in russian voice over, especially with the kids. (still thinking about british 20 y.o. oxford student that is Notkin and south park caricature voiced by an adult woman that is Khan in english dub. *[metaphorically] holding a cig in between my fingers pensively* still not dealing very well with it emotionally.) the only voice that set me absolutely fucking insane in russian voice over was Eva's – WHY DOES SHE TALK LIKE THAT!! WHAT DID THEY DO TO HER!!!!! misogyny in casual ways etc. etc. but with english dubbing every other character forced a fight or flight response out of me. idk maybe i am a bit biased but with the way it is just so different.... pathologic 2 (RUS) and pathologic 2 (ENG) are like two siblings who are mostly the same but one of them is objectively . uglier than the other. speaking of siblings, it turns out Stamatins have DIFFERENT voice actors in english. this feels like a crime....

i could talk about the voices for Hours bro i played the game russian voices/english subtitles and most of the lp's i watched also went this route except One so i discovered the english voices like second-handedly and Scared Me bro scared me... i've already talked about the kids' voices like I Know. I Know how hard it is to VA kids especially if you have to work with regulations making it harder to hire child VAs (for the better of the kid mind you, i'm not saying #bringbackunregulatedchildlabor here) and i'm sure the women who voice teenage/child boys are doing their absolute bests but man. i think the suspension of disbelief works way more when working with for ex. anime voice acting bc you can See the characters are only vague simulacra of children, but in a game that has pretty detailed 3D models and strives for a certain realism in the faces and whatnot, it is Jarring...

i think the use of British/generally Non-American english accent is like a commin trope to denote a foreignness or a different social status (because most of the anglophone players Will Be americans because. bigger country) but like. come on. look_how_they_massacred_my_boy.mp4... i'm sure there are subtleties within the russian voices that i'm not gettin because. well i'm not russian i guess that helps that would be Complicated to transpose in english but like. worarrgh.

i'm Very Glad both of these games had a release with an english voice acting cast because we like. Know. the tendency that americans have wrt Foreign Media / refusing to interact with things if they are not Dubbed in english even if they are subtitled [i think the whole Parasite movie release put that on the carpet again but i knew of it way before that] so it allowed for More People to check out the games [again. for the better and the worse...]

can we talk about eva and the twins let me talk about eva and the twins. can i talk about eva and the twins?

p2 russian eva has a light and high-pitched voice but it's kinda like. airy and hazy like she's deep in thoughts like she's daydreaming... her english voice sounds like the squeaky voices anglophone VTubers make so sound like cutesy anime girls. she sounding more like a child. and when you pair it with her neotonous face with her fit that looks like a child having dressed themselves and the general "youthening" of her personality. well i ain't saying anything but i'm making the biggest side-eye known to man rn!

p1 russian andrey has a sort of like high almost mighty and haughty attitude, kinda towering, p1 russian peter also has this sort of height with pride to it but fraying on the ends like mouth woolen (the Drink)... p1 english andrey has some of that height and restraint, kinda high in the throat like he's being above... p1 english peter is Squeaky. he's so squeaky. almost sounds giddy from time to time but also. The Drink. my man an arm on the wall drink in the other at a party telling you about shit only his drunk mind can comprehend...

p2 russian andrey has a depth and a certain Mystery but it still looks natural/like he's Deep In Thoughts... p2 russian peter is way #deeper than his p1 counterpart but it still looks natural/that's a Depressed voice if i ever heard one. scraping the floors with it.

p2 english andrey is so raspy it's kinda comical like he playin toughguy and p2 english peter while still Deep is like Theatrical to a goofy extend like IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS. YOU SLEEP IN A BATHTUB 😭😭

while it. is normal for siblings to have different voices and would make sense for two siblings to have different voices, and as such voice actors... it doesn't for the stamatwins!! are you crazy? you SEPARATE the stamatwins? you make them into two people instead of two sides of a same coin? JAIL!! JAIL FOR THE VOICE ACTORS

#ring ring (answers)#anonymous #artur ivanov while i think making the twins look deep and mysterius is well a departure from their p1 selves. you did a great job. liked it

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docgold13 · 6 months

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Profiles in Villainy

Ishiguro

The sinister Ishiguro had been an ‘esper,’ a being possessing remarkable psychic powers. He used these powers for crime, becoming a powerful member of the syndicate known as The Claw.

Ishiguro belived in esper superiority, that those with psychic powers are better than regular humans and are meant to rule over them. Furthermore, the strongest psychics should lord over those with weaker powers. Shortly after joining The Claw, Ishiguro and several other espers challenged the group’s leader, Suzuki. Yet Suzuki possessed much greater powers and the coup was quickly put down. In order to remind these under-bosses to mind their place, each received terrible scars about their faces. Ishiguro received the most scars and has since always covered his face under a mask. He additionally wears a costume that makes him look taller as well as a voice-alteration device that provided him a creepy, child-like voice.

Some time later, Ishiguro and his battalion were tasked with either recruiting or destroying a young esper named Mob. Mob ended up possessing a much greater degree of power than Ishiguro had anticipated and the villain was thwarted in his various attempts to kill the youth. After one final defeat, Ishiguro was killed by Suzuki’s son, Sho.

Actors Rumi Ōkubo and Hiroshi Iwasaki voiced the character in the original anime (with Cristina Vee and Mike McFarland providing the character’s voice in the English dub). Ishiguro first appeared in the ninth episode of the Mob Psycho 100, airing on September 5th, 2016.

#Profiles in Villainy #Mob Psycho 100 #Mob Psycho #Ishiguro #The Claw #cut-out #paper art #Villains!

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bluekidchaos · 2 years

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Maybe there *is* a wrong time to fuck

A/N: part 2 to this! please be aware of the tags and warnings!

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship and consent, darkfic, dub-con-elements, cnc, unprotected sex, breeding kink, knife kink, pain kink, glove kink, roleplay, semi-/public sex, dirty talking, manhandling

Words: 1.4k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

the streets were dark and abandoned aside from your lonely steps. lit up only by a single streetlamp every few meters. the air was cold and damp from the rainstorm that had rolled through an hour ago, splashing of water could be heard as you stepped in yet another puddle. after a little while a second pair of steps could be heard behind you, "no need to get yourself scared for nothing, someone else is just walking home or something" you tried reasoning with yourself but it didn't lessen the anxiety you felt as the steps quickened their pace.

as you started to walk faster something grabbed your waist and dragged you into an alleyway close by. just as you were about to scream a gloved hand clamped itself over your mouth and a voice right by your ear whispered to you, "hey, calm down. i'm just saving you. that man looked like he was following you." you calmed yourself a bit, steadying your breath as the stranger let go of you, but turning around you wanted to scream again. the man that had 'saved' you was vigilante. a known killer going around Evergreen killing people that commit crimes. he could see the terror in your eyes and had to grab you again to make sure you didn't attract any attention, "look, i just saved your life. you should be more grateful to me rather than trying to get us busted. how about a thank you?" frantically nodding your head as he let go of your mouth again.

"th-thank you, for saving me." he nodded his head in approval, "you are so welcome! now, was that so hard huh?" you shook your head and looked at the ground before asking if you could leave. "mh, yeah sure.." a breath of relief escaped you as you turned to leave but something stopped you, well, someone was stopping you. vigilante had wrapped his arm around your waist again and pulled you back to him "actually, i change my mind, i don't think i'm quite satisfied with only a thank you, especially since it took you so long to say it. but i can think of a few ways for you to make it up to me.." you don't know when he had moved his mask up but suddenly you felt his warm breath ghosting your neck and his lips made contact in quick pecks, making you tense up. "please, no.. just let me go or.. or i'll scream." not your smartest choice of words as his hand covered your mouth again. "you know, i could've just let that guy kill you. you really should be more grateful to me for saving your life. are you grateful that i saved you?" vigilante whispered the last part in your ear and you nodded. "yeah? then i think.." the arm he previously had around your waist was now slowly dragging up and down the side of your body, "i think, you should let me just.. do whatever i wanna do to you." you made some pitiful attempt at breaking free but he was simply just so much stronger than you and pushed you with your back against the wall, sighing heavily as he bowed his head and shook it, "tsk tsk, this would be so much easier if you just let me. i did save your life after all."

"please, just let me go, i won't tell anyone about this please." your words were muffled underneath his hand. you struggled a bit more under his weight until you felt cold metal hit your throat, you were frozen in fear. oh god oh my god, he's gonna kill me, this is it your thoughts raced through your mind at the speed of light. thinking you were about to die, vigilante's mouth crashing against yours took you by surprise. he was all over you, practically licking into your mouth the way he was kissing you. tounges and teeth clashing, spit dribbling down your chin and mixing with his. without separating from you he moves the knife down your body, making you shudder. he caresses your stomach a few times before cutting open your shirt and tearing it from your shoulders, leaving you exposed to the cold night air as you weren't wearing a bra tonight. vigilante groaned at the sight of your tits, "ugh, so fucking hot, you have like.. the most perfect tits" he put the knife back on your throat while groping your chest with his other hand and kissing you again. you couldn't deny his hand felt good on your body, you really tried not to encourage the stranger but you couldn't help a small moan slip by your lips when he started sucking on your nipples. you felt him groan again and grind himself into you and you could feel how hard he was, feel his erection against your thigh. you felt his free hand leave your boobs and travel down to your center, it felt like you were on fire. you were impossibly turned on but didn't want him to know that. you started fighting back a little again, trying to get away but he pressed the blade harder against your throat and pushed his gloved hand down your pants and panties, and by god did it feel good. both of you moaned at the contact, he could feel how wet you'd become and leaned his forehead on yours, "oh baby, for being so resilient earlier you sure are a mess down here, are you really enjoying getting taken advantage of this much? hm?" the hand relentlessly rubbing between your legs was providing you with the sweet relief you had waited for for so long now it was blurring your mind and you couldn't answer him. vigilante decided he really wanted an answer however and roughly pushed a thick finger inside you with no warning, making you yelp loudly at the intrusion, "answer me~, baby. hm, are you enjoying this? you want more?" he nipped at your neck, leaving bruises and red marks all over. you threw your head back and moaned as he added another finger, filling you out completely, "yes yes yes, oh god please! ah!" vigilante smiled against your throat before speeding up his movements and rubbing circles on your clit making you come in record time. you couldn't control your voice, moaning and babbling incoherent sentences about how good it felt. "oh yeah, get loud for me! want to hear you screaming for me, baby" your legs were giving out under you, you felt breathless as the overwhelming feeling of an orgasm overtook your senses.

he kept working you through it, bordering on overstimulating you before pulling back and dragging you to a container nearby and roughly bending you over it. you were honestly just glad for the support when he pulled both of your pants down and stepped close to you, you felt him reaching between the two of you and rubbing his dick through your soaked and ripping folds. "fuck baby, so wet for me huh. god, you're such a whore, letting a stranger fuck you like this in a dark alley," vigilante slowly slid into you, he sounded way out of breath, almost ruined as he started fucking into you at a ruthless pace. it was clear that you had gotten your pleasure, this was for him. he didn't care to even try angling his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you, he was just pounding you for dear life. he moved the knife back to your throat, but this time it nicked you, creating a very shallow wound and you were both caught off guard by how loud you moaned at the feeling of stinging pain. "fuuuck, that was so hot, you really are a depraved slut. pain gets you off? you want my knife on you so badly don't you?" vigilante deliberately cut you this time, making a small cut by your collarbone and he felt you clenching around him, bringing him impossibly close to the edge. "please, vigilante, please please, cum inside me. wanna feel you dripping down my legs, please" that was all it took, pushing him over completely and he emptied himself inside your clenching cunt. he was groaning and overstimulating himself by continue bucking his hips into you until he had given you all he got, "oh yeah, take it, take it all. want you dripping my seed all the way home, fuck!"

he had finally stilled inside of you but hadn't pulled back yet so you reached an arm back to stroke his hair, "adrian, baby? you okay?" he groaned softly against your shoulder and pulled back and out of you, putting himself back and buckling his pants. a big smile stretched on the exposed area of his face, "never fucking better, babe"

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante x reader #dcu #dc universe #peacemaker #reader

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