Treasure Box Reactions, Headcanons And Scenarios

A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes…

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW 

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself. 

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try–you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?–but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

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if you’d like to request here’s some ideas!^^

au + trope + prompt game

here’s a fun drabble game since i was on the hunt for one and decided i should just make my own instead.

 send in a character, an au, a trope, and a prompt, and i’ll write a little drabble based on it!!

au:

roommates!au

hogwarts!au

spy!au

mafia!au

ceo!au

coffee shop!au

bookstore!au

college!au

camp!au

high school!au

travel!au

babysitter!au

soulmates!au

parent!au

sports!au (name the sport)

supernatural!au (specify)

band!au

celebrity!au

trope:

friends to lovers

enemies to lovers

meet cute

meet messy

unrequited love

fake dating

childhood friends

exes

strangers to lovers

prompt:

“are you sure this is legal?”

“fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. fuck.”

“i don’t even think i want to know.”

“you said so, didn’t you?”

“you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

“what is that?”

“you had no idea, did you?”

“wait, wait. say that again. please.”

“why are you awake so late?”

“you know i’ll do anything for you.”

“i know that it’s the thought that counts but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it.”

“is that the best you can do?”

“it’s been so long since we did this.”

“okay, maybe i’m crazy but did i just hear you say that out loud?”

“i’m rambling again, aren’t i?”

“my hands are really dry. sorry about that.”

“hold your fire!”

“this can’t be real. i feel like i’m having a fever dream.”

“suck on that.”

“it’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”

“for the last time, please stop trying to airdrop me.”

“did you hack into my hotspot?”

“you know that your book is upside-down, right?”

“alexa, play wonderwall.”

“i know this looks bad, but i swear, it’s not.”

“sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

“that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

“do you ever feel like you’re far away no matter where you are?”

“hold on.”

“need any help with that?”

“you never saw me.”

“shut up for a second, will you?”

“now what?”

“i don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

“don’t tell me you spent actual money on that.”

“i let you mooch off of my netflix and this is how you repay me?”

“don’t you want to know how i feel?”

“i think i would rather eat expired spam.”

“you confuse me.”

“if you’re happy, then so am i.”

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

A post I made on my previous blog! But I saw you saying tumblr has been cutting your asks a lot so maybe this will help anyone sending in asks!

OH WELL SHIT THATS HELFUL AINT IT THANK U LEV

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, incest, abuse of power, sex-slave reader, gangbang

♡ FEM reader

Nasty emperor who’s gone to the pleasure house every day since coming of age. Now middle-aged and a seasoned dictator, fucking his own litter of bastards because they all have his family’s long line of royal hair and eyes—and it gives him some sick sense of pleasure to have made you all—bred to be his own personal harem of half-blood princes and princesses.

Most of you hate him, of course—but none of you can do anything about it. Kept prisoners in pillow rooms, hidden away in the castle. The Kingsguard stands watch, ensuring you all stay put—always on hand for the King’s visit.

You all have your tongues, nipples, clits, and dicks pierced with rings—and yes, he uses a leash on them all to remind you of your place.

He'll wear an open robe—and only that—walking in stride with his cock in hang. And you’ll all kneel for him, in row upon row, as he makes his pick for the evening. Sometimes pointing out a group of three or more for an orgie—other times, singling out just one of you. 

“I created this little pussy—it belonged to me before you ever even came into the world,” he’ll grunt. Fucking your cunt deeply from behind, cockhead cuddling your womb, soon to fill it with his big load—ringed hand pulling that pretty hair you inherited from him, grinning by your ear in huffs and puffs and gross vows, “Gonna breed you, my girl—make you big and round with a pretty sister-daughter or brother-son.”

You cry in disgust, but you don’t dare fight back. It wouldn’t do you any good. Forcing you all to be his little subservient harem of whores is the least of the cruel things he puts you through if you upset him. 

“I’m not just your King—I’m the God that gave you life. You worship me,” he’ll say. “Disobey me, and you’ll face my divine judgment.”

Devine judgment—meaning rope burns, tied up tight and unmoving, allowed no food until you’ve proven your loyalty by making all your fellow half-bloods cum.

Your sisters, in the dozens, will ride your face—while your brothers, two at a time, make full use of both your holes.

And he’ll sit on a throne of blankets and pillows and watch as they all take you—some scared to disobey him and be put in the same position—others equally depraved as him, making a meal of it—each giving you a good slap for not being good children like them.

And that’s how it goes, for hours, until all of them are spent and you—reminded of your place.

♡ BNHA – Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Kenjaku, Sukuna ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan ♡ HxH – Chrollo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Liv……this senario with Levi.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdbjkgnB/

vi i have been hanging onto this ask for SO long hoping that one day i would be strong enough to write this into a full fic but i need the world to see into your big sexy brain bc this is DELICIOUS

glass houses levi ackerman/f!reader (aot) word count: 1.2k tags: en ess eff double yew, age gap, voyeurism, stripping, mentions of masturbation

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Older neighbour!Levi who has all of his things unpacked within the first few hours of moving in, cardboard boxes broken down and tucked neatly away as quickly as they appear. You don't even really notice it happen; one day the apartment across the courtyard between your buildings was empty, and the next he's there.

So can you really be blamed for the fact that you aren't expecting a spectator when you start to peel your clothes off in front of your open window after a long, gruelling day at work? Your bones are weary, your shower is calling to you, and your neighbour is watching you undress.

The thin silky robe you pull on after you duck down out of sight feels insufficient to cover your body after you've been spotted--the humiliation leaving you feeling acutely bare as you peek your head up over the windowsill enough to see if he's still looking as raptly as he had been a moment prior.

He is.

At least he seems to have a sense of humour about it, if the wry little smile he shoots you with his hand placed over his eyes in a faux-display of coyness is anything to go by.

He doesn't have much by way of decor or furniture--a minimalist if you've ever seen one--but everything he does have that you can see from the vantage point of your own apartment is tasteful and expensive. It's one of the first things you notice when you risk another glance in the direction of his apartment the next morning, the second is a fleeting glimpse of him with a mug in his hand--and the sighting has you skittering quickly away, your heart pounding in your chest as rapidly as it had been when you weren't wearing any clothes, in spite of the fact that now you're fully dressed.

You're not sure what makes you do it again that second night. Maybe it's the cheap wine you've been drinking, maybe you're lonely, maybe you're craving that same adrenaline rush that you'd felt the night before when his eyes were the only thing on your skin.

You take your time undressing in front of your window this time, putting on a bit of a show. You know he's there even without looking. You'd caught a glimpse of him, on that same spot on his couch, with another glass of red wine in his hand--but more than that you can feel his eyes on you again.

It feels even better than it did the first time.

It becomes a routine after that. Your new neighbour settling in with his glass of wine every night to watch you painstakingly strip yourself bare for him. It feels like an eternity passes as you're slowly pulling off every article of your clothing until there's absolutely nothing left, and somehow every night that eternity seems to pass a little faster--leaving you with the feeling that you wish it had lasted just a little bit longer. That his stare had lingered on you just a little while more.

He never touches himself. No matter how tantalizingly you let your own touch linger on your body, how gently you graze the soft dips and swells of your own form. It drives you crazy, leaves you panting and moaning as you fuck your own fingers in the the privacy of your bathroom a short time later--but somewhere distantly you recognize that maybe that's the point.

The day you (inevitably, finally) meet him face to face in the little courtyard nestled between your homes you're taken aback by how handsome of a man he is up close.

He's older than you--that's certain now that you see him in all his glory--but he's aging gracefully. Time has exceedingly been kind to the angular, symmetrical lines of his face.

You don't know what to do. Or say. Part of you wants to turn heel and run for it, but instead you just laugh--breathy and light in the afternoon air.

"Hi," you say through your giggles, a hand reaching up to cover your flushing, burning cheek.

"Hello," he greets you with a polite dip of his head and a little smile of his own.

You tell him your name. Because what else are you supposed to say to the man who's been watching you get naked for the past 9 days? Who's watched you work your own nipples into sensitive little peaks just for the thrill? Who's seen you trail your fingers down down down between your legs under the guise of pulling off your panties?

"I'm Levi," he says, and hearing the way he says it nearly makes you tremble. Watching his lips form the shape of his own name makes you ache in the deepest part of your core.

"It's nice you meet you," you say softly.

Properly, that is.

He smirks slightly, then he hums.

The air between you feels too thin, too charged for a first meeting, too familiar for two strangers to be sharing between them.

"Have you lived here long?" Levi asks, and you have the fleeting thought that if he doesn't stop talking soon you're going to get to used to it, too attached to the very sound of it.

"Two years," you reply. "I moved here when I graduated college and started working."

He makes a little sound of recognition befitting of the small talk the two of you are sharing, but his gaze is piercing. He's appraising you. Sizing you up. Undressing you with his eyes in the same way he's watched you do with your own two hands.

"Well," you clear your throat, taking a step back towards your building, "I guess I should-"

His hand moves quickly, extending towards you. You pause, staring down at it, and the little card tucked between two fingers as he holds it out in your direction.

You pluck it slowly from his grasp, and turn it over in your hand.

Levi Ackerman, CEO ACKERMAN CORP.

You swallow as you read the credentials on the business card. The name, the title. The email address, office number, and fax details. Finally, the neatly scribbled series of digits on the lower righthand corner of the simple but tastefully designed card.

"My cell number." Levi anticipates the question before you can voice it, and your eyes flicker up toward him, greeted with a gaze of molten steel that threatens to drown you under it's weight. "If you ever need anything, or would like to grab a drink."

"I'm not much of a red wine fan," you say, setting out with the intention of levity but the words are too breathless to be teasing.

He smirks, clicking his tongue behind his straight white teeth. "I'll get you anything you'd like."

Your heartbeat thrums under your skin.

"Alright, Mr. Ackerman."

"Levi," he corrects you pointedly.

"Levi," you repeat, and you like the way his name tastes on your tongue. You wonder if he tastes just as sweet.

You turn towards your building, pausing once you take a single step away.

You turn back, glancing at him over your shoulder. He's already started in the direction of his own building.

"Levi?" you call towards him and he pauses, turning back to face you once more.

His brow quirks curiously.

You smile.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood."

Actors on Actors | Toji Fushiguro

pairing: actor! toji x actress! reader

genre: interview style, slightly suggestive on toji's part

note: ah shit here we go again

📊 Video Stats

10M views | 350K likes | 40K comments

Convincing Toji to do this interview was as hard as his team had expected. 

The man was extremely private, always giving short answers on red carpets but they were more than enough to feed his fans. Coupled with a confident smirk of his and a proud display of the scar on his lip, the man knew he had people swooning for him. 

However, he wasn’t fond of interviews. It was evident in the way he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored look on his face and only answering when the question pertains to his character only. 

Other than that, you couldn’t get a single word out of this man.

When you heard that you were invited to be on an episode of Actors on Actors, you were both excited and nervous. Talking about yourself wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, but you loved getting to know other people in the industry and bonding with them over shared experiences.

What you don’t expect is to read Toji’s name on the paper. 

“Toji?” you turn to your manager with a look of disbelief on your face. “Fushiguro Toji?”

Your manager gives you an apologetic look. She could see the anxiety brewing inside of you, and you have to place a hand over your heart to calm your nerves. 

Talking to that man was the equivalent of talking to a brick wall. There was no way this was going to be a good interview—and who thought of pairing the two of you together?

The tall, broad shouldered man sits in his changing room with the same paper in hand as his eyes land on his name. His makeup artist catches the glimpse of a smirk on his face before Toji turns to his manager.

“That’s the pretty one, right?”

His manager chuckles before placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “The one and only.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

The interview is off to an awkward start. At least from your part. 

You feel small under the gaze of such an intimidating man, putting a leg over the other and pulling down the hem of your short dress to hide as much of you as possible. That doesn’t stop Toji’s shameless gawking as the two of you shake hands.

“I’m (Name), nice to meet you.”

“‘course I know who you are,” the words roll of his tongue smoothly and he watches as you purse your lips, dropping your gaze. “Fushiguro Toji”

“Very pleased to meet you.” You finally let go of his hand but you could’ve sworn that his hand lingered on top of yours a bit longer. 

When neither of you decide to speak up first, you let out a nervous chuckle while Toji turns to the filming crew with a playful smirk.

“This is fun,”

“I mean…” you trail off, smoothening the fabric of your dress. Again, his eyes land on your thigh and clear your throat.

“I’m…a really huge fan of your work.” your voice is small as you confess your admiration for his work in the industry. “I’m always amazed by your ability to get into character so quickly.”

“Watched some behind the scene footage?”

You were caught.

“Maybe…I mean it’s there!” You laugh and fortunately for you, Toji does as well as he nods. 

“Sure it is. I could say the same about you—” he gestures towards you with a genuine smile. “Great work, it’s rare to see someone so passionate in the industry nowadays.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands. “It’s-it’s nothing, I just really love acting.”

Toji braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. “How old were you when you thought of giving it a try?” 

Your back straightens up under his gaze and you avoid his eyes as you think of a response. “I was about 6 or 7 when my parents would pull out a camera during Christmas and record me recreating scenes from movies like The Wizard of Oz and The Shining.”

“The Shining?”

“I was a weird kid,” you laugh when you see the look of shock painting his features. “But yeah these two were my favorite movies of all time.”

“That’s interesting, cause in a way I can see you getting into movies like that at a young age.” 

“Really?” 

Toji really likes the glint in your eyes. 

“Mhm,” he nods as he leans back in his armchair. “Like I said I’ve seen some of your work and–” he raises his hands. “I’m a fan.”

You drop your head shyly, silently thanking him for the amount of compliments he was throwing your way. This was honestly going better than you expected, but you knew it was time to ask him questions. 

“Can I just say,” you gesture towards the man. “Your recent work absolutely blew my mind—I mean, the entire movie was just amazing but your role. Wow, just wow.” 

Toji bows down his head when you clap for him, chuckling when you go the extra mile by pretending to bow down for him. 

“That role, was it difficult to get into such a state of mind? I’ve seen many actors—including myself, who needed a much needed break from everything after a certain role. Was it the same for you or were you able to detach yourself from the role easily?”

Toji gives it a thought, taking in the fact that you had crafted this question so carefully unlike any other interview he’s ever been on before. 

“After we finished shooting, I cut off contact with most of the world for about three months straight. I moved out of my neighborhood and into an area where it was just me, the mountains and the sound of birds.”

 Toji proceeds to explain how the role was mentally taxing, how the idea of going back and doing promo for the movie seemed like a huge roadblock he needed to get over. But after lots of therapy and some much needed time off, he was able to get back on his feet. 

“I’m glad that you feel better now, the industry needs good actors like you.” You admit and Toji leans back in his armchair again with a knowing smirk.

“I could say the same about you.”

The interview proceeds smoothly, with the two of you asking each other questions back and forth. After fifty minutes, the interview comes to an end and you get up to share a well deserved goodbye hug. 

However, Toji’s arms linger a little longer around your waist and he whispers something in your ear that’s facing away from the camera.

“You look good by the way.”

Guys, the mics are still on!

🗨️ Top Comments

💬 [somethingsgottagive]: DID YALL SEE THAT (6k likes)

💬 [somuchtosay]: this entire interview is just toji flirting with her im losing my mind (5k likes)

💬 [onehastogo]: ive never seen him this down bad omg??? (7,3K likes)

💬 [theboyismine]: this is the most talkative ive ever seen toji am i sensing smth (1.8K likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [theboyismine]: THAT HUG???

💬 [alltheavocadoes]: THE THING HE WHISPERED???(923 likes)

💬 [albumoftheyear]: oh the internet is on FIRE (508 likes)

💬 [cmontryme]: someone check on me ive shipped them for the longest time (392 likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [cmontryme]: without a single interaction is crazy

💬 [cmontryme] replied to [sweetnsourchicken]: i’m crazy

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

Videotapes

Hizashi x reader

Summary: Hizashi picks up a fan to bring back to his place to make a special little home movie ;)

Warnings: s m u t, swearing, Hizashi gets a little rough, and uhhh… a bit of yandere at the end… 

A/N: I hadn’t ever written Present Mic sm*t before, so i decided to give it a go. I couldn’t help but make him a little crazy at the end there. I am who I am.

Keep reading

*opens tumblr*

*sees kidnapper!konig x reader*

*sighs and closes tumblr*

I’m a bit concerned lowkey about the amount of kidnapper fantasies out there, he’s starving the reader, locking her in the basement….nothing about that is appealing to me ..like that is just one thing I cannot get on…plz I want konig to make me safe not kidnap me and starve me and separate me from my family

Kim Doyoung - “you never saw me.” highschool au! strangers to lovers!

You never really knew the boy well, but to be frank, not everyone did either, he only had a close knit of friends, plus, he was the type to only speak when spoken to.

He gave off the impression of someone who liked to focus on their interests and hobbies, the type to not waste time partying like most kids at your school did. You admired that. He got good grades and he has a passion for dancing.

Your admiration for him ended up turning into a huge crush, you were always glancing at him, and whenever he would catch you he would only give you a smile in return. You wanted to get to know him better, but despite him literally sitting a row ahead and two seats to your left, he seemed so far away. He seemed like a stranger to you, you often wondered; ‘if he saw me in the streets would he even recognise me?’ You were sure that was the case, you weren’t the only girl to be caught staring at him, and you weren’t the only girl he smiled at.

Your feelings for him deepened ever more when your class voted you both to be captains. Doyoung, of course, got voted captain, and you, vice captain. It was both a nightmare and dream come true, you two would be able to look into each other’s eyes and discuss plans for any class excursions or what not, the nightmare part was you being scared of embarrassing yourself.

You would always make sure there would be nothing stuck in your teeth after every meal and after every snack, you stopped wearing laced shoes due to your fear of them suddenly being untied and you tripping, so you switched to Velcro shoes. You switched to hair clips to put your hair up due to your fear of the hair tie snapping in the middle of class, now that, that was a personal and unpleasant experience.

Despite you always being on edge, Doyoung always managed to let out a small smile whenever you turned your back towards him.

It was like any other normal school day except for the fact that the teacher had been absent and which led to you having a substitute. After a long day the substitute had put you and Doyoung upon the task of bringing the many boxes filled with folders into the staff room. As you and Doyoung rearranged the boxes from lightest to heaviest, Doyoung decided to break the silence.

“Sucks to be here after school hours, huh?” He smiled

It took you a while to register that he was talking to you and there was no one else in the room, you wanted to refrain yourself from embarrassing yourself, of course.

“Yeah, but it feels nice being able to help.” You cringed after that sentence left your mouth, you felt so embarrassed, you mentally facepalmed yourself, you wanted to just jump into any hole avail-

“Hey you don’t have to be so hard on yourself okay?” He smiled softly and put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

‘Huh?’ You has been snapped out of your mental scolding and now you had no idea on how to reply.

“I see the way you’re so cautious around everything or how you scold yourself sometimes, you just gotta relax, you know?”

He continued, “its all apart of life embarrassing yourself but the best part about it is that you can laugh at all the embarrassing things you’ve done.”

He started walking out of the room with you following behind him with boxes in both of your hands.

“Now you’ll be able to laugh at it all, so you know, I wouldn’t call them embarrassing when they’re really just memories in the disgui-“

“Wait your laces!”

It was too late, he had already tripped with the folders scattered around the floor, his cheeks tinted with a deep scarlet red. You put your box down and offered him a hand.

“You never saw me.”

You burst out in laughter with tears brimming your eyes, “what happened to the memories in disguise? Huh?”

He saw you in a light he had never seen you before, he saw you differently, he saw you, and felt like he knew you, he felt familiarity.