Love Your Content So Much! Keep Up The Good Work. How Do We Feel About Yandere! Slasher X Final Girl

Love your content so much! Keep up the good work. How do we feel about yandere! Slasher x final girl reader? :33

lover boy’s final girl ˚୨୧₊♱

thank you baby! i did get a liiiitle carried away cus i'm a sucker for this concept but i hope ya like it <3

note: tho the term final ‘girl’ is used, reader is written to be gender neutral because fuck that

also tw talk of suicide and gore !

“sugar, don’t you get it?” the painful sound of a baseball bat being dragged along the cabin’s walls, leaving the wallpaper a peeling mess. dean’s words are accompanied by a low laugh. “you can run and hide s’much as you want, but i’ll always find you.”

you try to tune him out, but the world is silent save for his voice, so you cling to every word. “like a cute game of hide and seek,” you curl into yourself and don’t dare to breathe, press one hand over your mouth and curl the other around the knife you’d haphazardly swiped from the kitchen, whilst running for your life.

“wonder what you’ll give me when i find you,” dean muses, and you hear him push open the bedroom door, start humming something under his breath. “not that you need to, you’re enough of a prize for me!” it’s something that sounds like a sweet melody you once knew, but is now twisted and dark, when it leaves his lips.

summer camp was supposed to be fun. it was supposed to be meaningless sex and stupid gossip, lazy days around the pool and flicking through glossy magazines with your friends —

“y’know, i’ve been wanting to do this for a some time now.” dean says, the words so light on his tongue, like a confession.“get rid of everybody around you, and keep you all to myself.”

your friends, who’d warned you that nothing good would come about getting back with your obsessive ex boyfriend, dean. there was no way his presence here was a coincidence.

“when you broke up with me, i wanted to kill myself, y’know? but then i realised that none of this was my fault — you left because your friends,” he sticks his tongue out as if the word leaves a bad taste on his mouth, “were filling your head with stupid, fuckin’ ideas.”

your friends who tried to remind you why you broke up with him the first time: after he threatened to destroy anybody who so much as looked at you, and then came home with bloody hands. your love and his affection shouldn’t have cost someone their life, he was only going to ruin you.

“so can you blame me for getting’ rid of them? you just drive me insane, baby!” dean gushes, kicks open another door and rummages behind wardrobes and under the beds. “i feel like every inch of my skin is burning when you so much as look at me.”

your friends, who’d told you time and time again that he needed psychiatric help, that he relied on you too much and it was only going to end in flames for a second time.

“i know you’re scared, and i’m sorry you had to see me kill your friends, but hey! nobody can keep you away from me now.”

your friends who couldn’t say they told you so after dean swung a baseball bat, embedded with nails, at their heads. and then, he had hunted down the counsellors and the nurse and every other camper.

“after this, we’ll go somewhere far away and adopt a cat or two. just the two of us, alright?“ dean asks, though you know your answer wouldn’t matter, can’t change dean’s delusions. “lost you once already, so i’ll have to keep you under lock and key this time.”

your friends, whose bodies lay littered across the camp’s grounds, bloody and broken and brutally battered. but their corpses weren’t alone, kept company by everybody else unfortunate enough to have gotten on that bus to summer camp.

“all that’s left now,” dean’s steps get closer. “is to find you, baby.”

and now, you were folded into a kitchen cabinet, a dark, cramped space that had you aching everywhere and absolutely terrified. dean’s song was crooked in the way that only he could be, and the sound of his voice had you on high alert, focusing on where he was so that the moment he left the cabin — you’d bolt out the back door.

until the humming stops, and dean’s steps falls quiet. silence descends the cabin and all you can do is wait, in both trepidation and anticipation. did he leave, or is he playing with me?

you shy away from the cabinet door, inching back as much as the small space will allow you. your heart hammers in your chest and you don’t dare blink.

and then the cabinet doors swing open, and dean’s crouched in front of you with his bat swung over his shoulder. every screw embedded in the bat is covered in skin slicked with blood, and your grip on the knife falters.

he reaches out, gently takes the knife from your hands, tosses it aside, where it clambers on the kitchen tiles and sits out of your reach. you’re at a loss for words, but dean doesn’t mind. he’ll do all the talking, just having you there is more than enough.

your ex boyfriend tilts his head to the side, and the corners of his lips quirk up in a crazed grin as his eyes trail over your quivering body with a sick amusement.

“found you, sugar. ♡”

dean wouldn’t lose you again.

Co-Conspirator

Yandere! Bruce Wayne x Yandere! (Fem!) Reader 

> romantic > summary: Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. > word count: 1285  > [ a/n: just something short, something cute, something for the Girls. i think mutually yandere relationships are a fun dynamic not very explored!!! Still, its pretty mild yandereism here. Trying to warm up to writing bitches who are Actual Freaks . uhhh lmk what you think. hope i communicated the reader's backstory well. the fact she's only a little crazy is amazing, all things considered. i'd love to make a whole fic of this but alas, i am Not Very Good At Plot]

You are dating Bruce Wayne. You bite your lip at the thought, hoping it disguises your shit-eating grin. You have been told you look like a total cheeseball when you daydream. 

It’s a month-long relationship that’s still currently under the radar because you don’t have the luxury of a dual superhero-civilian persona. First, getting trapped in a pocket dimension for 10 years because something-something-Speedforce; next, being booted back into your home dimension and falling out the sky; then, wreaking havoc in Gotham City with your new, uncontrollable powers unmasked and in clear view of Gotham City choppers and news cameras… These things secretive identities do not make. No matter.

Hence why you tend to stay holed up in the Justice League’s Watchtower or your apartment, and rarely go out otherwise. But a month ago, you were bored. Neurotic. You decided to help your good buddy Batman. Fly to Gotham with your power and surprise him on patrol. And, well, you ended up saving Bruce Wayne (and hundreds of other socialites) after a three ton bowling ball careened into a gala at Wayne Tower, courtesy of the Riddler. Your telekinesis kept the whole building from collapsing. You guess that must’ve really turned Bruce Wayne on, because he was shortly afterwards chatting you up and won your phone number. 

On your first date with Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, you blurt out, flustering, that you don’t want to overshadow his charity and all the good work he’s doing. Bruce Wayne dating anyone makes headlines – let alone a superhero. Yes, yes. You simply didn’t want to cramp Bruce Wayne’s philanthropic style. It wasn’t that you were utterly unprepared to have that level of media scrutiny on you and were insecure about dating a man completely out of your league. 

Bruce thanked you for your concern and then kissed you deeply, expertly, for your trouble.

You replay that night’s events in your head, and– goddamnit– cheeseball. You clear your throat and clear your mind.

“I think I’ll want a copy of his birth certificate from Gotham General.”

You glance at Batman, who is seated beside you, and see the corner of his lips quirk. 

“Because you’re going to pull up his birth chart.” Batman knows astrology is an enduring interest of yours. You pout, pulling up Gotham General’s files and sifting through the database. 

“... Maybe.” 

You pause from your search on one of the Justice League’s supercomputers, sneaking a sheepish glance at your co-conspirator. Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. 

You flush. “You know– I– Thanks, Bats. Really. I’m glad you aren’t acting all weird about this.”

Batman doesn’t say anything, but you know that he’s giving you his full attention. 

“Like, I’m not a freak or anything. I just have to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” You puff your cheeks. “Know he’s… you know. Good.” 

What a lie. You’re just scared and don’t want to get caught with your pants down. Despite being an actual living, breathing, metahuman and superhero… Bruce is the one with the power in this relationship. He’s… everything. Encapsulating. Towering. Anyone would want him. You think of the lingering looks very, very beautiful women give him. Everyone does want him. 

You feel a pang of violent loathing and nausea that is tided over when Batman speaks.

“... I know plenty about Bruce Wayne. He’s… good.”

Your brows rise. You’ve only known the man for a few months but even you know that’s a glowing compliment coming from Batman. His highest praise on most people is usually neutral at best. “Hmm… okay.” You turn back to your work, laughing. “Well. I also just think he’s kind of interesting to learn about. What other celebrity has this much lore? The prodigal son… Prince of Gotham… Collector of orphans… Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor...” 

You worry your lip, gnashing your teeth. Bachelor. That’s what everyone thinks he is, right? You blink and curiously turn to Batman, whose hands are flying across a keyboard, hard at work. You hope you’re not bothering him. W-well, he’d say if I were, right? you think.

“Is it weird if I put cameras in Wayne Manor?”

Batman stills and your throat dries. Damn.

“... Um… Too weird…?” 

After a tentative silence, Batman responds.

“... No. You’re just covering your bases.”

Your cheeks fill with color as being vindicated – a view you don’t know makes his heart race marginally quicker.

“Yeah!” You cough, composing yourself. “I mean, yeah. You can learn a lot about someone from what they get up to when they think they’re alone.” You can also make sure they’re not bringing anyone home, but you keep that part to yourself.

“I could plant them, if you need. I have plenty made for this kind of surveillance.” 

You’re smiling widely, wheeling your chair over to Batman’s side before you know it. 

“... God. Batman, you magnificent mind, you. This is why we’re buddies.” You lean over and poke his chest cheekily, right on the bat emblem. 

Bruce has to restrain himself from catching your hand on its retreat. Your poke burns a hole in his chest for minutes afterward, and he welcomes every second of it. He turns back to his computer screen, vainly attempting to not think about how much he wants to kiss you right now.

Perhaps Bruce should’ve simply asked you out as Batman. You spend much more time when he’s under the cowl than not. But frankly, you would’ve been too distracted during missions. Hell, he would’ve been too distracted. He already thinks of you all the time. 

Your investigation into Bruce Wayne has tripped several of his alarms, even before you told him of it. Anyone making inquiries with this level of depth draws his attention. Nothing you’re looking is anything he’s averse to you knowing, so he’s allowed you to investigate him freely and without redirection. But of course, you don’t know that. The effort you’re making is… cute. The fact you don’t know that Batman is Bruce is cute. You think you have the upper hand. And that’s… cute.

Bruce doesn’t think too deeply about your stalking, even though he probably should. It’s probably evidence of an unstable individual. He’s sure ten years alone with no stimuli in a pocket dimension does things to a person. But who was he to judge? He’s violated the privacy and boundaries of everyone who affects his life in any important way. Nor does he claim to be a shining example of ideal mental health. 

And at the end of the day, this situation is all under his control.

There is a small part of him that feels guilty for keeping his identity under wraps, but there’s a bigger part that’s amused. You don’t know that he’s had your birth certificate since the day after you met. You don’t know that there’s about twenty cameras working 24/7 in and out of your apartment. Or that he’s your new landlord. These are things he’ll tease you about once he confesses that he’s Batman. You’ve made him someone who likes to tease. 

Still, Bruce remains hesitant about telling you. How would you react? Would you feel betrayed? Hurt? Dread floods his bloodstream, an effect only the most depraved individuals in his rogues gallery tend to have on him. 

Would you leave him? Hate him?

His eyes skirt towards where you sit. You worry your lip, eyes glued to a plan of Wayne Manor, no doubt debating where you want him to place the cameras he’s offered. Tension leaves his shoulders, almost imperceptible. 

Luckily, the chances of that seem slim.

Vampire // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Vampire!Gojo x fem!reader, gore, nsfw, mdni, blood kink if you squint, masochism, unprotected sex

Synopsis: Creatures lurk in the night. A particular white-haired one takes a liking to you.

An: I’m so excited to start this challenge with you all! I’ve decided to call it Monstertober (there will be one exception to the monster rule LOL srry).

Overpopulation and a deficiency in food had forced your world into an age of evolution. It started off slow as most evolutions do. It started as just one case: the case of Ryomen Sukuna, the first vampire.

He didn't need food to stay alive. No, he was completely immune to aging, and he only craved one thing: blood. It was noted in his case file that he would drink any type of blood, but he had a strong liking towards human blood. One pint of blood, which is a sustainable amount to lose, was enough to satiate Sukuna for a month. However, vampires since then have gotten way more greedy, sucking humans completely dry recklessly.

Then, they started popping up everywhere. Some were bitten, but the "supreme" were the ones who naturally evolved into vampires without being turned by one.

Humans were now not at the top of the food pyramids. For the first time ever, humans were the prey. To help with the overpopulation, the group of the undead proposed a solution.

Cull the herd.

Once every three months, vampires were allowed to hunt humans for sport. Of course, this wasn't the only time they killed or fed off humans. Rogue vampires feasted upon human blood anytime they wanted, but the more civilized vampires waited for the culling to drink from a human.

Bunkering down for the night, you closed yourself into a small closet in the innermost portion of your house. You made sure every door and window was locked, and you prayed to whatever deity was out there that the vampires wouldn't bother you.

They must've not heard your prayers.

You were clutching a wooden stake in your palm as you heard the crashing through your window. Your other hand covered your mouth, trying to mask your breathing. It was no real use though. The vampire could practically smell you from outside your house.

He effortlessly ripped your closet door right off the hinges. His light blue hair was long, and there were stitches all along his body. He admired with with a wild grin and devilish heterochromatic eyes.

"I seem to have found myself a treat!" He claps his hands together, acting as if he just won a claw machine. "Come, darling. You and I both know you're not going to use that stake."

Your entire body trembles as you clasp the stake harder, aiming it at him. "I'll do it!" You cry out, backing yourself further in the corner.

"This is futile. Don't make it harder than it has to be. I'll try not to kill ya." The vampire gives a wide eerie smile, and his sharp pointed fangs were immediately noticeable. You could immediately tell that he was lying straight through his teeth.

You have to do something or else he'll just toy with you like a mouse. You charge straight for him, rearing the stake back to try to stab it through his heart.

"So rude!" He scoffs as he effortlessly grabs your wrist and yanks it above your head. Your arm almost feels like it's going to rip out of your socket.

"Let go of me!" You shriek as you try to yank your arm back, but he was too strong. His hand only tightened around yours, forcing the stake out of your hand. It falls to the ground with a thud.

"You're lucky you're worth the trouble, brat, or I would've already killed you!" He yells, getting more frustrated with your struggling. His head leans near your neck, and you're entire body tenses. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as he takes his time sniffing you. You let out a pathetic cry as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the bite.

This was it.

Before you can even react, your arm is let go, and the sound of crashing catches your attention. Quickly opening your eyes, you see another vampire has the blue-haired one pinned to the wall away from you by his head. The new vampire was much more built than the first one. He had a head of white hair, but you couldn't see his face yet.

Until, he turns to you as his hand crushes the other vampire's head into the wall. It practically explodes like popping a really full tick. Blood and brain matter splatter against your walls.

Your body is completely frozen by fear as you can't help but stare at the new vampire's eyes. His blue eyes beamed in the moonlight, almost glowing in the dark. He's devastatingly handsome with a sculpted jaw and nose. He had long white eyelashes and full lips. He slowly allows his hand to drop, allowing for the vampire's deceased body to slump against the ground.

Small whimpers escape your mouth as you search for any conviction to run. You have to get away from him. If you had little chance of surviving that first vampire, then you had no chance of surviving this one.

He leisurely walks up to you, eyes never leaving yours until he's right in front of you. He then inspects your neck closely. "Are you hurt?" He asks calmly as if he didn't just end someone's life so casually.

"N-no.." Your voice meekly trembles out. Your knees are practically rattling together from fear.

"Do you have a death wish..?" He asks as he leans away from your neck. His eyes are nearly half-lidded as he looked at you with such a bored expression. He then leans down and picks up the wooden stake that you were holding on to.

"No, I-" You go to explain yourself, but he rudely cuts you off.

"Stab me." He instructs while handing the stake back over to you.

Your mind is reeling, unable to comprehend why he would give you permission to use his weakness against him. "What..?"

"I said stab me. If you don't have a death wish, stab me." He repeats as he tucks his arms behind his back, and he even leans his chest out to you.

You look at the wooden stake in your hand, and you look up at the vampire who just killed one of his own to save you? You raise your hand unconvincingly, and you completely clam up.

"You don't have it in your heart, do you?" He asks as he stares at the stake in your hand. "Even when given the permission, you can't find it within you to kill."

Your head drops in shame. If this mysterious vampire wasn't there, you'd be dead from the blue-haired vampire thanks to your noncommittal attack against him.

"Foolish." He clicks his tongue disapprovingly before snatching the stake from your hand and diving it into his own chest.

"Wait-! W-what-?" You shout in a panic, watching as red liquid slowly starts to stain his white shirt. You immediately move to his aid, yanking the stake out of his chest. "Why would you do that? Do you have a death wish?" Your hands press harshly against his chest trying to stop the bleeding.

"Foolish human." He repeats as his other hand comes up and gently pets your head. "Wooden stakes are a myth, sweets. They do nothing to us." He reveals quietly as his large hand continues to softly rub your head. "See for yourself."

Confused, you slowly lift your hands, and you see the wound had already closed. His body had healed it that quickly.

"I don't... Everyone knows that's your weakness.." You pout as you look at his blood along your hands.

"It's a myth that we allow you to believe, so you all continue your futile efforts to stop us." He reveals as he takes your hands and gently cleans them off with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket.

"Then why tell me...?" You quietly ask, feeling your heart pound in your chest from a mix of nervousness and adrenaline.

"It's not like you have any real intention to kill me." He flashes a smile at you, and he tosses the wooden stake into your fireplace. "You don't want to kill, yet you don't want to die. Are you looking to score a role as a feeder?"

Your body shudders from the idea. Certain vampires kept "feeders", also known as humans who voluntarily offer up their blood for whenever their vampire is hungry. There was mutual benefit for both parties involved. The feeder was practically granted with protection from all vampires, and the vampire no longer had to hunt for food.

"I'm not a farm animal." You retort as you cross your arms over your chest.

"No, perhaps not." He muses as he slowly tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "But you're not a fighter either, sweets. Unfortunately, this world wasn't made for people like you." His finger tips delicately stroke your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Do yourself a favor and agree to be my feeder. I can't protect you if not."

"What-!?" You shout a bit too loudly, and he gives you a disapproving look.

"I didn't stutter. Be my feeder and live, or stay here and die. Your choice."

You stare at him with a slightly frightened look. Your eyebrows are pinched together, and your lips are in a small pout as your consider his options. He was right. If you stayed behind, you would most certainly die. The only reason another vampire hasn't came to eat you alive is because they can sense his strong aura in your home, warding the others away.

"I... okay, f-fine. I'll be your.... feeder or whatever." You finally mutter out, and he sticks his hand out to you.

"It's a binding vow then. You be my feeder, and I'll protect you from all harm that comes your way." You stare at his hand and take a deep breath. A binding vow that's broken only ends in death, but what choice did you have? Your hand reaches out and shakes his in a defeated matter.

"Great. Glad that's over. Hop on." He immediately instructs as he turns his back towards you. He bends his knees and holds his arms behind him, obviously wanting you to get on his back.

"What-?" You immediately ask, taking a step back from him.

"Well, we aren't staying here, sweets, and I don't know about you, but something tells me that uber drivers aren't going to be out tonight." He sasses as he urges you to get on his back. It was the start of your new life.

As you slowly climb onto his back, his hands hold onto your the backs of your thighs, securing your body to him tightly. Your arms wrap around his neck. "Oh, by the way, I would've protected you for free." He smirks before running a lightspeed away from your home, knocking the breath from your lungs.

*** *** ***

Being Satoru's feeder wasn't all bad. It's been a few months since you two had met during the culling. You've been slowly getting use to living with him.

For one, he's filthy rich, and he has no real use for money. He lives in an entirely too big mansion that's completely paid off. He even has kitchen staff and cleaning staff to take care of the house for him.

For two, he's so... vain and out of touch with reality.

Since he's taken you in, you've learned that Satoru is one of the supreme. His body had naturally evolved in the predator-like state he's in. Though, he claims that he was very strong before evolving as well.

Not only is he a supreme, he's well-known in the vampire community apparently, which you find that hard to believe considering he never leaves his mansion unless it's to attend a night event. You were allowed to leave. It's not like you were his prisoner or anything, but he demanded to be with you no matter where you went to protect you.

You've gathered crumbs of information about him from the kitchen staff and maids, but Satoru was an open book himself as well. He would answer whatever question you proposed, though you couldn't distinguish how much of his answer he was boasting.

The feeding was surprisingly easy to get use to. Satoru rarely fed on you, and when he did, he was extra careful each time. His fangs would sink into your wrist, and he'd drink just enough to get by before promptly releasing you.

He fed at night mostly, which made sense because of his waking hours. He had given you your own chamber in the house when you agreed to be his feeder, and he'd quietly slip into your room at night. By the sixth or seventh time, your body had grown accustomed to his nighttime visits. You'd unconsciously offer up your wrist when you heard the door creak open in your sleep.

Tonight was like any of those nights. Around three in the morning, Satoru quietly slipped into your bedroom. His stomach ached in pain from hunger. He would only drink what he absolutely needed, never quite quenching his thirst for you as he was very cautious with you're well-being. He was practically starving himself.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed, looking as angelic as ever. He admired your face while you were blissfully unaware. His hand raked through your hair gently, and you stirred just enough to hold your wrist out to him.

If he wasn't so damn hungry, he'd take his time admiring your beauty, but his stomach was grumbling as he stood over your bed. Bending down to your wrist, he took a deep breath of your delicious scent. You probably had no idea that your blood type was rare - the sweetest amongst humans. He got so damn lucky running into you during the culling.

His lips pressed a gentle kiss against the thin skin of your vulnerable wrist. He then pressed another, more sensual kiss into your skin right against the pulse point of your wrist. Feeding was such an intimate act between vampires and consensual feeders, and the fact that you allowed him to do this while you're at your most vulnerable drove him completely mad.

"Sa-toru?" Your voice was a breathy yawn as you must've woken up from his incessant kissing.

"Shhh, sweets. Go back to sleep. I'm just... going to drink a bit.." He whispers softly as he looks up at your sleepy face.

"Drink or make out with my wrist?" You ask with a lazy smile, causing him to chuckle a bit.

"Maybe a bit of both if my feeder allows it." He retorts with a grin before his stomach loudly grumbles.

You sit up slightly as you look at him with a confused gaze. "You must be really hungry." You softly murmur before scooting over in your bed and patting a spot for him. "I'll go back to sleep... just take what you need."

Satoru almost feels like a nervous teenage boy when you invite him into your bed. He doesn't object though, slipping between the sheets next to your warm body. He nearly purrs in contentment. It had been far too long since he had felt warm.

Your body nuzzles into his side, and you gently press your wrist up to his lips. Your eyes had already slipped back closed again.

"Sleepyhead." He muses with a soft smile. His stomach angrily growls at him once more, and he finally decides not to waste anymore time. He flutters his eyes closed, and his fangs pierce through your skin. He's immediately rewarded with the taste of your sweet blood, and he almost instantly feels rejuvenated.

He gently suckles the blood out from your wrist. His hand was idly stroking yours as he drank from you. The air in the room feels so soothing and familiar between the two of you.

He only holds your wrist for few minutes before forcing himself back away from your sweet taste. His tongue gently laps at the the small puncture wounds on your wrist, hoping to soothe the pain slightly. He's still painfully hungry, but he knows he can live off of what little bit he took.

You flutter your eyes open to look at him - having been pretending to sleep so he wouldn't dillydally. "That wasn't nearly enough." You say as you furrow your eyebrows. His stomach growls to only further your suspicions.

"Who are you to tell me what's enough?" Satoru laughs off your concern as he goes to slide out of your bed.

"I'm being serious, Toru." You say as your hand clasps onto his shirt, preventing him from leaving your bed. "Don't think I haven't noticed how sluggish you are recently."

"Who are you calling sluggish? I'm plenty energetic." He argues back as he looks down at you.

"Toru, please. I'm asking you to feed." You pout up at him. "I'm seriously fine. You never ever take a feasible amount."

The sight of you - a human - caring so passionately about him and his needs has his face turning red within seconds. He looks down at your small pout, and he finally relents.

"Only because you said please. Not because I need it or anything like that." He gripes as he gets back comfortable next to you. "Other wrist. That one will be too sore if I bite it again." He instructs, and you offer up your other wrist. However, the positioning is quite uncomfortable to maintain. He'd have to twist your arm to reach your wrist.

"What about my neck..?" You quietly offer, even pulling back your hair to reveal the flesh of your neck. He's almost immediately drooling at the sight.

"The neck hurts worse than the wrists do. Are you sure you want that? It also leaves quite the mark." He informs you, but you've already made up your mind. Your body is turned facing his, and your head is already tilted for him.

"Neck is fine." You answer calmly as you flutter your eyes closed again, trusting him with your life so willingly as if he isn't some monster.

Satoru carefully dips his head down between your shoulder and your jaw, and he once again kisses your skin. It's almost compulsory to do so. A pleasured hum emits from your throat as your hands find his silky white hair.

It's taking every ounce of self control he has not to pounce on you and ravish you in more ways than just one. The primal urges to feed and fuck consume his brain entirely.

He tries to push those thoughts aside as he bites down on your neck. A small moan escapes past your lips, and he can't quite tell if it's a pained or pleasured one. Either way, his dick painfully throbs within the confinements of his clothes.

Maybe it's a placebo, but he swears that your blood is sweeter around your neck. He assumes it has to be because it's closer to your heart. He groans as he sucks the blood from your neck, taking in more substance from you.

The room is filled with small moans and muffled grunts between the two of you. Your neck is incredibly sensitive in the best way possible, making each suckle feel divine from his mouth. Your body shivers in anticipation as you fee your arousal growing - an insatiable heat between your thighs.

Satoru isn't immune either. He can feel your pulse, smell your scent, and hear your pretty moans. He knows the effect he's having on you, and it only works to make him even more horny than he already was.

When your hips start to subtly rock against his body, searching for any friction, all of his self control leaves his body. He immediately moves to pin you down beneath him with his fangs still buried into your neck.

Your hands shamelessly claw at his back through his shirt, and your legs wrap around his waist. Small needy whimpers and whines escape you.

He knows he should stop soon. He's drank almost a pint from you, but his mind is struggling to make his body cooperate. He can't get enough from you. He craves to devour you whole.

"Please.." Your small breathy plea catches his attention as your hips lift up to meet his again, and a new craving takes over his mind.

He pulls from your neck, but he doesn't lap at the bite wounds. Your blood freely trickles down your neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he swears he's never seen anything more erotic in his life.

His hands immediately go to the waist band of your pajama pants as he feels like he's in a frenzy. He can't be bothered to consider the logistics of fucking you and how he might unintentionally hurt you. His brain is only focused on getting his dick into you as quickly as possible.

Ripping off your pants and panties in one solid tug, he throws your discarded clothing onto the floor. "Satoru.." Your small voice whines as you lift your hips up.

"'m gonna take care of you, promise." He mumbles as his one of his hands sink between your thighs and the other works to get his own pants off of him. "Have to prep you first." His pants and boxers hit the ground.

"N-no.." You whimper out, desperate for his length already.

“Yes sweets.” He argues as he settles between your legs. “I’ll hurt you if not.”

“Want you to hurt me..”

“Don’t…” He has to close his eyes to erase the image of you looking down so pitifully, asking him to hurt you. “Don’t say that to me..”

“Please Toru~” You whine as he’s thumb starts to rub gentle circles around your clit. A wet clacking noise filled the room as you were already soaked.

“Such a fuckin’...” He grunts as he gives into your sweet pleas. His hand guides his tip towards your fluttering cunt. “‘m not gonna be able to stop if you let me do this..”

“D-don’t stop.. I want this, please..”

His eyes fixate on your blood stained neck from where he fed on you just moments ago, and he leans his head down to lap up the sweet blood against your skin. “I warned ya.”

Satoru forces his length into your entrance, stretching you out around his size. Your fingernails dig into his back as you let out cries of pain and pleasure. He hurts in just the best way, leaving you wanting more.

“Shit.. feel s’good, sweets.” He moans as he buries himself deeper. Your wet heat slowly envelops him, squeezing around him like a vice. “So fuckin’ wet and tight for me… my good girl.” He purrs as his hips pull back before he sinks into you once again.

“Hah… oh god.. t-too big.” You manage to moan out as you can practically feel your heartbeat in your cunt. The room fills with squelching noises as Satoru rolls his hips slowly at first.

Your gummy walls squishing around him drives him absolutely feral. His caution is out the window as he pummels into you repeatedly. The headboard of your bed smacks harshly against your wall, and your poor mattress wails in agony as he fucks you into it.

“What are you so.. ngh~ .. wet for, huh? Love me using your body, don’t you?” He grunts as his hips snap back and forth. Your eyes start to cross as you swear you can feel him in your throat.

“Y-yes!” You pathetically cry in response. Your back arches up off the bed as you feel yourself already nearing your orgasm. “T-toru-! I.. I think I’m gonna..” You stumble over your words, unable to formulate what you’re trying to say.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.. ‘s okay.” He slurs into your ear, completely pussy drunk already. In his defense, he hasn’t gotten any in a long, long time.

“Fuuuck~! Ah~ I’m coming..” You cry out to him as your hands grip onto his shoulders. Your toes literally curl your poor cunt clenches around him, juices roll down his cock so leisurely from your arousal.

“Yeeaahh, that’s it.” He purrs as he rides out your orgasm. “Atta girl.”

You slowly start to relax as you come down from your high until you see Satoru’s hands gripping the headboard. “You can take more, can’t you?” He asks in a way where it doesn’t even sound like a question. He’s telling you that you’re gonna take more.

Satoru has to be conscious about how much of his strength he’s using. He’s one small accident away from ripping your headboard off your bed frame.

Still, he uses the headboard as leverage to fuck you harder. “Fuck. C’mere.” He growls as he gathers your thighs and places your legs on his shoulders, putting you in a mating press.

His thrusts don’t relent in the slightest. His heavy balls smack against your plush ass with each stroke. “‘m never letting you go, sweets.” He mumbles as his thrusts start to falter. “… gonna have to pry me away from this pussy. She’s all mine.”

You’re completely blissed out, only able to moan and agree with his delusional ramblings.

“Mine.” He declares again as he rails himself into you. His tip kisses your womb with each harsh thrust. His pleasure starts to coil in his stomach as he’s so close. The headboard completely snaps as he forgets to manage his strength while he’s on the cusp of an orgasm.

Not even stopping for a moment, Satoru leans his head down, and he bites down into your neck again. Your sweet delectable blood coats his teeth and tongue before he pulls away. He bites again and again, completely marking up your neck and shoulders before be spills himself deep inside you. “God… fuck!” He groans as he releases your shoulder.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he glances down at his seed trickling down from your pretty hole. “You’re makin’ a mess, sweets.” He comments with a lazy smirk before admiring the artwork he created on your neck and shoulders.

You glance up at him with poor needy eyes. Your cheeks are tear stained from the intense pleasure mixed with the bites. His cock twitches pitifully inside you from the sight.

“You can take another round, right? Need to use your cute cunt just a bit more.” Satoru groans as he’s already started fucking his cum back into your hole.

pyshical touch with shins for your love loanguages promtp for your follower event and my life is YOURS

₊✩‧₊˚ hitoshi shinsou + prompt 1 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ physical touch ˚₊✩‧₊

You were always aware that physical touch wasn’t Shinsou’s preferred way of expressing love. It was something you learned early on in your relationship- the way he would stiffen slightly when someone hugged him unexpectedly or how he never seemed to be the one to initiate contact. You respected that, of course, and because of it, you always tried to hold back.

It wasn’t easy for you. Physical touch was your love language, and there were times when all you wanted was to wrap your arms around him, bury your face into his chest, and hold him close. But you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so you refrained from doing so as much as you could.

Yet, despite everything, Shinsou always found a way to reach out to you. It started small- a brush of his fingers against yours, the way his hand would rest on the small of your back when you walked together, or how his knee would press against yours when you sat next to each other. They were subtle gestures, but they meant the world to you because they showed you that he was trying.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch, lost in the pages of a book, when you felt the cushions dip beside you. You glanced up to see Shinsou settling in next to you, his eyes soft with an unreadable emotion. He didn't say anything, but his hand found yours, and he gently pulled you closer until you were leaning against his side.

You hesitated for a moment, searching his face for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a quiet acceptance. Slowly, you shifted so that your head rested on his shoulder, your body relaxing against his. Shinsou let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving up to brush a few strands of hair from your face.

"I know you like this," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "And... I do too."

Your heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. It was rare for Shinsou to be so openly affectionate, but when he was, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You shifted slightly, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

"I'm glad," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You never do," Shinsou replied, his hand finding its way to the small of your back, holding you just a little closer. "It’s just... new for me. But I want to be better at this- for you."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone in gratitude. It wasn't just that he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for you- it was the fact that he found comfort in your touch, in your presence.

In the silence that followed, you let yourself relax completely, feeling the steady rise and fall of Shinsou’s chest beneath you. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile at the tenderness of his actions.

You knew he wasn’t naturally inclined to be this physically affectionate, but that made his efforts all the more meaningful. And as you lay there in his arms, you realized that this was more than enough. Shinsou might not have been the most touchy person, but he was yours, and he was trying- trying because he loved you.

And that was more than enough.

a/n shinsou has my heart<3

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

main masterlist

Thinking about our boys this fine evening,,

What would their reactions be if you bought them a present?

TURNING TABLES

A/N: My love, I’ve been sitting on this ask for MONTHS. Just chomping at the bit to do it justice. I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy this fluffy fluffy drabble with a lil sprinkle of angst 💕

C/W: Nada, the boys just being adorable. Established relationship. I hope this gives y’all as many delulus as it did me.

GETO

“You’re never going to guess what I got you for your birthday, dimples!” 

Your pretty finger digs into the crater in his left cheek that you’re so fond of. 

Suguru swallows a grin. 

Two things. 

One, you’re the only human in this lifetime and the next, who could call him that and wake up the next morning. 

Two, he knows exactly what you got him. 

Because you’re oblivious in a way that made him fall for you in the first place. 

To you, birthdays are sacred. And must be treated like National holidays. All week you’ve been padding around the apartment, glee in your footsteps. 

You’ve been staring at him. A whole galaxy in your eyes. Precious little giggles escape you at every turn. Because there’s a secret only you are privy to. 

Or so you think. 

Suguru has heard you badgering someone over the phone. 

“No no, it can’t be purple. His favorite color isn’t purple. It’s indigo. The shade between royal blue and violet. Blue. Indigo. Violet. ROY-G-BIV. Rainbows. Indigo.”

You almost flung your laptop off the balcony   two mornings ago. 

Instead of just closing the browser displaying shipment confirmation for the silver analogue watch with the indigo face and chrome bezel. You tossed the entire laptop away and Suguru had to lunge to catch it from shattering.

You are clumsy. 

And terrible at surprises. 

And he adores you. 

More than he knew possible. 

Suguru shrugs out of his grey peacoat. Dinner was phenomenal, yes. But now he needs you on his tongue for dessert. 

He watches you step out of your heels, somewhat upset you didn’t let him take them off for you. 

“On the couch and close your eyes!!” You squeal before disappearing into your bedroom. 

“Yes ma’am.” Low chuckle spilling from his lips. 

You’ll be the one following orders in a second. 

Suguru does as he is instructed. Back against the plush couch. Legs spread a little further than usual. 

You’ve had him stiff as a board the whole night. Doting over him. Petting his thigh. Pretty lips full of quick kisses and “Happy Birthday baby” and “I love you.” He almost took you at the dinner table. 

But he’s a gentleman. 

At least, before you get behind closed doors. 

“Are you ready for me, birthday boy?” You call out. And your voice alone strips him of manners. 

“I’m ready to be inside you, gorgeous.” Suguru palms the length of his shaft. 

“Suguru!!! Behave.”

In a matter of seconds, your full body weight lands on his lap. You straddle him and his hands fly to your rounded hips. 

You are wearing significantly less clothes than you were 2 minutes ago. 

Suguru eyes flare open. The zipper on his suit pants nearly breaks. 

“Ohhh, my pretty girl.” 

His eyes violate every inch of your negligée. Lacy. Delicate. Riding the gentle dips and curves of your beautiful frame. Saliva pools in his mouth. You have no idea what he’s going—

“Eyes closed!” Your tiny palm can barely span his face. 

“Alright, alright.” Suguru hikes you further onto his hips. His rod thundering against his fabric. 

“Before you start, baby. Reach into my jacket pocket for me?” 

“What?” Suguru always loved how pretty you sound when you’re shocked. 

“Do it.” 

Your fingers scramble to follow his order. Always so compliant. His name, tangled with an airy little gasp escapes next. 

“Suguru Geto, what is this?!” 

Eyes still closed, Suguru flashes a mischievous grin. You’re so pretty when you’re stern with him. You punish (reward) him with a quick slap on his chest. 

Suguru pulls his lids open. He finds you holding 2 nearly identical boxes. A bigger one in the right, a demure one in the left. 

You’re flushed up to your ears and Suguru hasn’t ever seen a woman so beautiful. 

“What is this?” You probe again, eyes glossed over. 

Suguru gently works the smaller box out of your hand. 

“A present,” he plants a chaste kiss on your pouty little lips. 

“But it’s your birthday. And I wanted to surprise you. I saw this—“

“—silver analog watch with an indigo face and chrome bezel, I know baby.” Suguru’s lips find your flushed, warm cheeks. 

“Suguru…”

“So I got one for you too.” He opens the smaller box, just as you reveal his surprise. 

Yours is daintier. Scaled down to your small wrist. Both of your initials inscribed at the base of your watch. 

“Baby.”

Mist coats your eyes the way it does. The way your love coats him. In all places. All at once. Gentle. Refreshing.

A blessing. 

“You are the love of my life. In this lifetime and the next. Thank you for the birthday gift, sweet girl.”

                                 ——

GOJO

“Satoru, Jesus Chri—are you kidding me right now?” 

“What’s the matter, baby?” 

Your boyfriend was born with a silver spoon and a silver tongue. 

An expert at rolling, whipping and twisting words until they’re saltwater taffy. Sweet on the mouth. Sticky in reality. And at its worst, kryptonite to the person consuming them. 

As if he didn’t just steal the pink satin bow, from your head. And your hair falls in a slow cascade around your face. 

Satoru slides into the seat across the dinner table. Candlelight kissing his high cheekbones. Tonight makes it three years from the day he asked you to be his. 

Not that it matters, really. Because time crumbles to stardust around him. 

Every minute, every second with Satoru feels like the first. Your heart can’t tell the difference, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

A mischievous grin reaches his 10-carat diamond eyes. Razor sharp, and a reminder to everyone within a 1 mile radius that he’s not of this world. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Satoru toys with your hair tie. Deftly knotting it into a bow on his wrist — an egregious accessory next to his cuff links. 

“Save the pillow talk, Satoru!”

 “What?” He retorts, slinging his elbow over the back of his chair. Dangling his newest prized possession in your face. 

“Is it so bad that your boyfriend wants to feel close to you? You won’t let me sit next to you — I’m desperate.” 

You feign a gasp and lean over. Hushed because what you’re about to say is sacrilegious. 

“The Strongest Sorcerer in the modern era won’t survive sitting across from his girlfriend instead of next to her? Don’t let the bad guys hear that.” 

Bellowing laughter erupts. His base low and clear as an alpine lake. Your soprano a feather light harmony. 

Unbridled joy that is so unique to your relationship echoes throughout the dining room. Waiters and waitresses send fond smiles your way because the restaurant is dedicated to your celebration.

Satoru’s lips find the back of your hand. Embers from the candle catch the golden flecks of sunset in his Mediterranean Sea. Eyes with still waters, tonight.

He’s beautiful, your boy.

“Happy anniversary, princess.” 

“Happy anniversary, my love. I have something for you.”

 You glide your hand out of his grasp before he locks it in. Eyebrows already crawling to the center of his face. 

“I told you not to get—“

“Hush!” 

Always one to give, never one to receive, Satoru narrows his gaze. You know that look — he’s planning on tripling his retaliation gift. 

Satoru reluctantly takes the box out of your hands, while you watch on bated breath. 

His full lips hang open. Cotton candy dusting the tip of his nose, blooming to his ears. He’s never like this. Taken aback. Full of surprise.

Your full name tumbles out of his mouth. Almost foreign to your ears, but indulgent when coated in his rich, loving tone. 

Satoru pulls the leather bracelet out of the box. An infinity symbol woven in the center with your initials and his initials flanking either side. 

Before you get a chance to breathe again you’re standing in his arms. In the middle of the empty room. Face nearly eclipsed by his large hands.

“Baby,” Is all that escapes him before he crashes his lips onto yours. 

His tongue immediately begs for entry. Faint taste of mint chocolate ghosting your taste buds. 

It’s comforting. It’s dizzying. It’s Satoru.  

“L-let me explain the gift.” Panting out of his embrace. A light sheen already coating his eyes. He’s statuesque except for his thumbs that strum the apples of your cheeks. 

“Of course.”

“You’ll probably live forever, fighting demons and such—“

“Curses, baby. The demons are just personal.” He laughs. 

Satoru flashes another smile, but this one is blue. Melancholy in a way that tugs on your heart strings. You draw him in for a quick kiss. 

A mere bandaid on a lifetime of third degree burns.

“I know I’m not invincible like you and your friends. And you spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with the fact that I’m a Normie.” 

Satoru’s nose crinkles. “It’s not a crime to not see curses.” 

“I rather you not see them. I don’t want you subjected to that.” Grit in his voice and his eyes glaze over. You know that Satoru is watching gruesome memories on his mind’s big screen. 

“I know, handsome.”Your hand cups his face and he subconsciously unravels in it.  All but purring into your warmth. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that the world needs you for far greater things than it needs me.” 

“Do not talk like—“

Your finger presses against his lips. Your boyfriend has a real habit of cutting you off and at this rate you two will never get to enjoy your dinner. 

A small chuckle escapes him. He’s sorry. And you continue.

“I got you that bracelet…because..” Suddenly shy under his undivided attention, you drop your gaze. Thumbing his new gift instead. 

You pause. He pauses. Everything around you halts.

Then it all tumbles out at once. 

“You’re it for me, Satoru. The One. Forever and always. In every life we’re reborn in, even if I can’t stick around as long as you can in this one.” 

Cheeks incinerated by your confession, you muster the courage to lock eyes with him once more. Nearly flat lined at what you see.

A crystal tear sliding down one side of his face. All of his sharp lines and angles, like melted butter. Mouth ajar. Moused. Imperfect. Like his heart is splayed open on his chest for the world to see. 

“Satoru…?”

Hearing his name jumpstarts his engine. Satoru lifts you into his arms and strides toward the exit in milliseconds. 

You toss your head back. Full of breathy giggles because this is the man you know and love. The modus operandi that made you fall so deeply for him in the first place. 

“Dinner! Baby our dinner!” You squeal a little too late, given that he’s 4 more long strides away from the door. 

“It’s taken care of. I’ll have them send it to the house.” Eyes straight ahead. A man on a special grade mission.

The two of you come to an abrupt stop just shy of the front door. Satoru rakes his glassy eyes over your flushed face.

“I would die for you. You know that, right?” His voice cracks. Actively staving off the flood threatening the rim of his eyes. 

“You and me…you know that I…I lo—, I’ve…you’re the only…fuck.” 

Satoru draws in a frustrated sigh. Tossing his head to the side. Hopeful that looking at anything else in the room would make this easier.

 “You know why I cant.. I can’t say it baby I—“

“I know, Satoru. I know.” 

‘Because love is the most twisted curse of all.’

And he believes that the moment it falls off his tongue, you’ll be taken from him. 

Your lover’s presence is grandiose. Demanding. Loud. Noticed from miles away. Earth shifted on its axis when he was born. 

A loan from Heaven’s stash. He’s a gift to mankind and your personal Moon.

But his love is the opposite.

Found only in quiet moments. Moments when his shield, breast plate and sword clamor against the hardwood floor after saving lives time and time again. 

When you wake up to him staring at you, caressing your cheeks. A gentle wake up call because he needs a kiss. A temporary reprieve from his nightmares. The demons that haunt him day in and day out.

When he comes home early from every single mission. Just to get back to where his heart is. 

His love is woven into your satin pillow cases, that hold his triumphs with students, his frustration from work, his regrets. 

His love is painted on walls of your apartment. The walls that could barely contain his grief. Wails loud enough to shift earth’s tectonic plates. That heard him scream in your arms. For months. All because he lost his first love at his own hands. 

His love glows under the moonlight. When he is buried deep inside you. Rambling about giving you a son first, then a daughter. Because he has to teach his boy to be strong. Strong enough to keep up with him. Strong enough to watch the world burn for his sister if it has to. 

Satoru Gojo is not soft, but he loves you softly. 

Another tear glides down his porcelain skin. Somewhat ashamed that he can’t swipe it way with his hands full of you, he flashes a lopsided smile. It makes his otherwise ethereal coalescence of features so boyish. Tangible. 

Human. 

Satoru presses a salty kiss against your lips. And it’s the sweetest he’s ever tasted. Pulling away briefly, to affirm you in a way that only he can.

“Infinity, baby?”

“Infinity, baby.”

Don’t know if you are taking requests but maybe battinson and reader doing their mbti test, and reader getting a villain personality.

lmfao

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: implied sexual content but no body parts mentioned. words: 894.

a/n: gratuitous amount of italics here. not sorry. implied sub!bruce but that's not what this is about. also, anon, guess who ELSE has a villain personality type according to google :)

who's gonna tell him

You probably know he’s not really listening. With the wrench between his teeth, fingers straining to reach into the void of his engine and find where the Batmobile had gone unresponsive, he’s only half present. Maybe a third at best. Still, he enunciates through the metal, already forgetting what you'd called him, “INT...C? What does that mean?”

“I-N-T-J. You’re the architect. It means you’re introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging. You’re good at problem solving and detective work, of course. But you struggle emotionally and are prone to being… ‘socially clueless’.” From your spot in the driver’s seat, Bruce makes a show of leaning around the propped up hood just to be clear on how much he disapproves. He even removes the wrench with his oil-slick hand so he can frown properly. “I didn’t write this, babe. Don’t look at me.”

“You’re reading it to me.”

“I just wanted to know if we’d be compatible!”

He huffs, having found what ever kink in the machine he was looking for and focusing on that instead. He disappears behind the hood but his voice carries through the terminus loud and clear, “Well, are we?”

You decide to do some research.

Somewhere between Bruce triumphing over the engine and coming around to the window to gloat, he catches you staring incredulously at your phone.

“What's the verdict? Are we sworn enemies?” Your eyes dart up to Bruce’s and the longer you stare at him, picking him apart in silence, the more his smile begins to fade. For a second, he starts to think you actually might be sworn enemies. For a millisecond, he starts to care.

"I took the test." You declare, voice freakishly even. Bruce isn't smiling anymore.

"And?"

"I got ENTJ."

"And?"

"We're compatible, sure, whatever," Bruce squints, confused, because you'd been more excited to know the answer to that than he was, "but then I fell down this rabbit hole—I wanted to see who we shared personalities with—and then I found this article. Guess what we are?"

You turn your phone to him. You've pulled up a web result for “Which MBTI personality types are villains?”. In the blurb at the very top, he reads INTJ. Then he looks over at you, your eyes wide and suspicious, and he’d ask you to stop giving him that look if it wasn’t for the way your mouth starts to curl up.

You’re not suspicious. You’re impish. “We’re both villains.”

Sure enough, the other most common villain personality type is ENTJ.

Bruce thinks it’s silly, a little less silly than when you’d done his natal chart (but he’d sat and asked questions all the same, a little too invested in the bits about his childhood karma) because the quiz at least knew something about him, but silly nonetheless.

But you’re also enjoying it enough that he leans into it, feels his own lips curling up too. He folds his arms on the door and leans inside the car, casting a dark shadow over you, "I have enough bad press as it is."

You giggle. You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze, "I don't know. I think you'd be pretty sexy as a villain."

Bruce watches you through hooded eyelids and considers, for a moment, that maybe you're a little too into this. He treads the waters, wondering whether you'll show your hand. He digs through his memory for what you'd called him, the other thing that had actually stuck, “The architect and…”

“The commander.” You finish, jutting your chin up with pride.

“Sounds about right.”

“I'll be the one in control, and you'll be my pretty little mastermind making everything happen.”

“Sounds sort of right.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? You’re a slave to my every whim.”

“Oh, I'm your slave now?" Bruce drops an octave with intention, delighting in your fingernails biting into his muscles. "Since when?"

Your eyes fucking twinkle. You look so excited that he fleetingly wonders if he should keep an eye on you. And he imagines you’d enjoy having him bested, kneeling at your feet as you unmask him and lean in and grin and declare, victorious- “Haven’t you always been?”

Your breath on his lips hasn’t even cooled before he’s leaning into the car and craning your mouth up to meet his, a hand at your jaw and the other keeping him propped through the window.

He imagines too, just for fun, leaning into a getaway car to celebrate a job well done, before coming around the side to jet off into the sunset. A real Bonnie and Clyde.

He feels you tugging on his shoulders and leaning back into the driver’s seat, compelling him to follow. You almost drag him fully through the window (a feat that’s only possible because he’s basically putty in your hands right now), and he grips the center console to steady himself before he falls in and crushes you, “The car’s been fixed all of two minutes and you wanna defile it already?” Bruce accuses, not actually caring in the slightest.

You’re awful. Your eyes still twinkle beneath the innocent flutter of your eyelashes, clearly still on villains and evil plans and whatever images you’d conjured up in your brain after calling him your slave. What ever happened to not mixing business with pleasure? “Come on, Batman. Don't be such a prude."

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