#“you’re still alive in my head“

[rewrittenwrongs]

Whumptober day 4: hallucinations / “you’re still alive in my head”

Chapter 1 of 3 | chapter 2 coming soon | read on Ao3 (registered users only)

Whumptober masterpost | day 3 | day 5 coming soon

TW: hallucinations (who’da guessed), (non-graphic) aftermath of a panic attack, referenced alienation

Tim… took a deep breath. Panic attacks aren’t fun, but he knew what to do after coming down.

Running through the exercise is mechanical, repetitive, not quite comforting in its familiarity. His breathing stayed elevated. He continued hearing Dick talking him through the steps, encouraging him, even though Dick was in a different country and he and Tim haven’t been on good terms for… three months, now? God. It’s been three months.

That means it’s been five since Batman was killed.

But he isn’t dead, Tim assures himself hurriedly. Bruce is alive. He was killed, but he isn’t dead.

Granted, Tim and Ra’s al Ghul are the only people on earth that think that, and Ra’s is more curious if he’s right than in agreement.

God. Tim isn’t used to being this lonely anymore. The ache of missing Dick and Alfred, of missing Bruce, Kon, Bart, Jack, Dana—when did everyone he love start dying? What primordial deity did he piss off? If there was a way to beg for forgiveness, for all the constant losses and grief and pain to stop, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But there isn’t any deity he can appeal to right now. He’s at the mercy of fate and Ra’s al Ghul now, the only thing left to do is keep looking, searching, exploring for more proof and a way to get Bruce back. He will find it. He will. He has to.

“C’mon, Tim, take a break,” the devil said with the face of Dick Grayson. This hallucination was much more accurate than the last one, down to the scar on his cheekbone, the gash where an earring used to sit, the circles under his eyes, the wisps of premature grey in his hair. The only inaccuracy was the Nightwing suit. Tim chose not to think about it, and continued wilfully ignoring the hallucination as he shakily sorted papers.

Pru was a surprisingly disorganised person, despite being an assassin. She was good at logging information, when motivated, but keeping tract of it? Never. Usually Owens did that, but he was scoping out tonight’s hit with Pru, and Z was out ordering food or something.

They didn’t quite believe in Tim’s quest, but they believed in the cause, maybe, and were plenty motivated to help him. Not only thanks to Ra’s instructions: Tim was starting to think they began to like him, in the five or so weeks they’ve been working together. It was, regrettably, mutual.

Also, he’s fairly certain Pru has been hitting on him, so that might be why she seems happy spending time with him.

“Now is not the time to be dating someone, Tim,” Dick said amusedly. As if Tim was interested in her. As if this situation wasn’t Dick’s fault in the first place.

If it weren’t for Dick, Tim wouldn’t be halfway around the world working with rambunctious assassins and a maybe-immortal cult leader. He could be finding his not-dead adoptive father with the Justice League instead, or maybe they already would’ve succeeded, and everything would go back to how it should be.

Still with some teenage hero-shaped holes, unfortunately.

Hallucination-Dick sighed like he had heard Tim’s thoughts and was disappointed by them. Which was possible, he was a figment of Tim’s imagination. Then he followed Tim to the bed and pantomimed sitting on it, appearance wavering at the edges. “You need to come home, Tim. We can get you help.”

Tim said nothing. He continued organising the files; photos mostly, documentation of various ancient artefacts that could’ve been left by Bruce. They only had one place left before they would, hopefully, have enough proof of Bruce’s existence to hand over to the League.

He tried to ignore the anxiety—what if they wrote him off as mad again and didn’t even look at it? What if something horrible happened to Tim and they weren’t able to drop off the evidence? What if they still couldn’t get Bruce back? What if—

“Come on, Tim, come home.” Not-Dick’s voice gained a desperate edge, brows pinching in a way that looked almost pleading. “You can heal from this.”

Tim huffed. “You say that like believing in the truth is an illness,” he hissed quietly. The hotel they stayed in was upscale, but the walls were still thin, and he’d prefer not to be written off as crazy by anyone else today.

“Bruce died, Tim. Kal heard his heart stop. You saw the body. Giving in to your delusions—“

“Delusions?” Tim chuckled. “I’m not delusional. I may be crazy, but I’m still right. Bruce is alive.”

“I know you want to think that—“

“Boss!”

The door to their suite unlocked and swung open. Owens and Pru entered, toting bags of surveillance equipment. “Honey, we’re home!” Pru called. Owens snickered.

Tim left his bedroom and entered the suite proper, greeting the two of them with a roll of his eyes. Pru was wearing sunglasses and had her shirt unbuttoned perhaps more than strictly necessary; Owens looked fondly exasperated as he set down the equipment.

“I see you’re still on one piece,” Tim said with mock disappointment.

Pru took off her glasses and pointed with them at him. “No need to sound so excited.”

Hallucination-Dick sighed and followed him into the room, wavering at the edges like a distorted hologram, but only when Tim glanced directly at him. Tim avoided looking at him.

“Z have an ETA?” Tim asked.

“Ten minutes,” Owens reported, lowering himself into an armchair. He looked ready for a nap.

“After dinner we can shove off,” Pru declared. “Museum’s already closed for the night, the security is lacklustre at best.”

“If we find what we’re looking for we’ll be done.” They all already knew that, but Tim just… needed to say it. It hasn’t sunk in. “We only need one more thing, then we’re home-bound.”

Pru and Owens shared a knowing look, not quite sad and not quite triumphant. “What are we doing if tonight’s a bust?” Pru asked.

Tim grinned slightly for reasons unknown to him. “We head to Iraq.”

Not-Dick sighed, and disappeared.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 4: Hallucinations, “You’re still alive in my head”

Sky and Twilight took the reins and this got longer than it was originally planned to be. But that’s okay that means more angst :)

Warnings: poisoning (kind of), non consensual drugging (sort of), hallucinations (ish).

Ao3 link

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Sky didn’t really like caves, but at least this one had plenty of light.

Glowing mushrooms dotted the walls in shades of blue and purple, smaller orange ones interspersed like tiny stars of amber. Every room they’d been in was a little different, and though Sky was tense and chilly from the location, even he had to admit it was pretty. It felt a lot like Skyview temple, honestly.

But luckily without the spiderwebs and skulltulas, he thought with a grimace. Worst part of that place, minus Ghirahim.

Sky gave a pink mushroom a cautious poke, and small waves of lighter pink rippled across the cap like a pond, Sky watching in fascination. Twilight looked up from where he was sitting, and watched the colors shift as well with an interested look.

“You think the others’ll be along soon?” Twilight asked as he stood and stretched. Sky shrugged. Half of their group had gone down a different tunnel, and they’d agreed to see if they met up later. The room they were in now had what looked like a side passage, so Sky, Twilight, Warriors and Hyrule had decided to pause here for a bit and see if they showed up.

“I’d bet they will,” Sky replied, poking the mushroom in two different spots. That made little waves of color go out that rippled against each other. “And if not, you can always sniff them out.”

“Should you all be touching those?” Warriors asked, an eyebrow raised as Sky poked a blue mushroom, glowing speckles winking all along the cap.

“I don’t see why not,” Hyrule said from across the room. He was tapping some smaller mushrooms that changed from orange to gold whenever they were poked. Twilight oohed in fascination, and got up to stand beside him and poke a few himself.

Warriors sighed, then gave a green one beside him a hesitant touch, the glow it gave off dimming slightly, and revealing stripes that weren’t visible before.

Sky and the others kept this up until Twilight heard footsteps from the tunnel, ears pricking as he reported it was the others. Four came through first, and Sky’s relief quickly turned into worry at the look on his face.

“Smithy? What’s up?” he asked, and Legend huffed as he came out of the tunnel behind him.

“Wild, that’s what,” Legend said. It came across as grumpy, but Sky could hear the worry in it as well. Twilight’s eyebrow raised in question.

“He and Wind were messing around, and Wild got smacked into this weird mushroom and all these spores went up,” Four reported with a frown. “We thought it was fine, but then Wild started acting all... weird.”

“Weird how?” Hyrule asked.

Time emerged from the tunnel with Wild’s arm slung around his shoulder then, the champion’s eyes wide and... worryingly blank. Twilight quickly went over to him, but Time waved him back.

“Best you don’t get too close, he already gave our sailor a bloody nose,” he warned, but Twilight still hovered nearby as Time gently set Wild down, keeping his head resting against his shoulder. “He’s quiet now, but when we first found him he was just...”

Wild gasped suddenly, and Time quickly put his arm around him in order to stop him from getting up when he lunged forward.

“W... wa-it...” Wild stammered, staring at the space in front of him. “Wait, wait for me, I-I’m...”

A shudder wracked through him, and he fell back against Time, shivering slightly. Warriors got to a knee beside him, carefully tilting Wild’s head around and studying his eyes and extremities, then hummed.

“I think it’s acting like a toxin of some kind,” he said, voice worried, but not overly concerned. Sky was rather alarmed at the use of the word toxin, himself. “Not life-threatening though, he’s not showing any signs of it being severe. He must just be reacting badly to the spores. An allergy, maybe. We’ll need to keep an eye on him, but it should just need to work through his system by itself. Is Wind okay?”

“I’b fine!” the sailor replied as he emerged from the tunnel as well, voice somewhat stuffed. “I didn’t breabe id in like Wild did.”

“Maybe get Hyrule to look at your nose, though,” Sky suggested with a wince, and Wind nodded.

The sailor skipped over to Hyrule, and while the traveler made sure nothing was broken, Sky cautiously moved over to where Wild sat, still shivering against Time’s shoulder. Wild didn’t react to his presence, but Sky noticed that when he shifted around, Time winced.

He looked closer, noticing that Time was holding his arm a bit gingerly, and Twilight obviously noticed as well.

“Did he just get Wind’s nose?” Twilight asked suspiciously, and Time sighed.

“He struggled a bit as I was pulling him away, but I’m fine.”

“Well then you won’t mind it if Hyrule looks you over just to be sure,” Warriors said flatly, and shooed him away as Twilight shifted Wild to his shoulder. Time hesitated, but at the sight of Wild immediately huddling up beside Twilight, he gave in with a sigh.

It was decided they’d make camp in the large cavern for now so they could monitor Wild, and hopefully give his body time to work through what it had been exposed to. Warriors wasn’t expecting it to take too long, but in the meantime... Wild only got worse.

He shivered and babbled nonsense nobody could make out, eyes catching on nothing. He felt feverish when Sky brushed a hand over his face, and coughed occasionally, looking miserable. All they could really do was keep him comfortable, but Wild only seemed to get worse, his mumbling growing louder, his eyes growing more wild.

Time’s arm turned out to be sprained, rather badly, and he was banished to the other side of the cave with Wind. The others tried to help with Wild, but after he nearly clocked Legend in the eye, Warriors decided the less people nearby, the better. Sky couldn’t bring himself to leave though, not with way Wild whimpered and thrashed, and he stayed beside him, wiping sweat from his brow, and wrapping his sailcloth around him when his shivering grew worse.

And nothing much changed for an hour or two, until Wild suddenly stiffened, and stared directly at Sky.

Sky blinked, and Warriors drew up beside him, prepared to step in if Wild tried anything. They all watched anxiously as Wild’s gaze flicked between the two of them, Twilight holding a little tighter to the champion, and Wild’s eyes rolled upward to look at him. Then his expression suddenly turned almost childlike with hope.

“Father?” he said in a small voice, and Sky’s heart fell down to his boots.

Twilight breathed in sharply.

“No, no Link, I’m not your father,” Twilight tried to explain gently, expression agonized. “None of us are, he’s not... here.”

“B-But you.... wh-where is he?” Wild asked, filmy eyes fixing on Warriors’ face. “I thought he... is he okay?”

Warriors froze, and Twilight exchanged looks with Sky. “I...”

Sky swallowed, and gently took Wild’s hand. “Link, he’s... he’s busy right now, okay?”

Wild blinked at him, then shuddered, his eyes clearing a moment and filling with grief.

“No. He’s not,” he whispered.

He let out a soft whimper, and to Sky’s dismay a tear fell down his cheek, its trail erratic due to the way Wild was shaking.

“I can’t r-remember— I miss him, b-but... I don’t kn-know if— you’re here, but y-you’re not— I saw you,” Wild said with a sharp inhale, eyes suddenly taking on a different sort of blankness.

“Oh no,” Twilight breathed as Wild’s shaking suddenly stilled, his blank gaze fixing on Sky’s face. “Please no, not now, don’t show him one right now...”

Oh Hylia, a memory, Sky thought in horror as Wild fell still. Please, let it be a good one.

Sky kept holding Wild’s hand, and Wild continued to stare at him, sweat-soaked hair falling in his face.

“He’s fighting...” Wild whispered, mouth the only part of him moving. “He st-stayed to fight... protect the... king. We saw, Zelda, she saw, when Cala... Calamity... the g-guardians...”

A shudder wracked through Wild, another tear slipping down his cheek.

“King’s dead. Everyone, they’re all... nobody left, D-Divine... p-papa...” he choked out, and suddenly his eyes cleared, and he lurched forward with a wail, head knocking against Sky’s collarbone.

Sky quickly stopped him from falling over, and waved Warriors and Twilight back when they tried to intervene, Wild clutching at Sky’s shirt with a terrible desperation.

“Father I failed,” Wild choked out, and Sky ignored how his heart was breaking, and ran a hand over Wild’s hair. Wild sobbed into his shirt, and Sky held him tightly, not even knowing where to begin with untangling this mess.

He looked at the others helplessly, and saw Twilight looking like he was either about to cry or hit something, and Warriors’ face looking much the same, expression holding a quiet grief.

“Link, it’s okay,” Sky tried, soothing him as he rocked a little. “You did your best. You saved Zelda.”

“She h-had to wait a-a hundred years,” Wild cried, voice muffled by Sky’s shirt. “I made her w-wait, s-so long, and y-you—”

Wild’s voice broke off into another sob, and Sky looked helplessly at Twilight. He knew the basics of Wild’s adventure, but not everything, and he didn’t know how to comfort him through this.

Wild had latched onto him though, and passing him off wouldn’t end well, he was sure. It was up to Sky.

He swallowed.

“Link,” he began softly, but loud enough that Wild could hear him over his crying. “I’m your father, aren’t I?”

Wild nodded, and Sky swallowed again, mentally apologizing to Wild’s father for impersonating him, and to Wild for lying about his identity.

“Then believe me when I say that I’m so proud of you,” Sky said, voice still soft. Wild let out a gross sniffle, and raised his head a bit so he could see Sky’s face. His eyes were still filmy, but Sky couldn’t tell if it was because of the memory or not. Was he out? “You did your best, you saved Zelda, and beat the Calamity. You avenged the people who died. You’re a hero, Link.”

“But I couldn’t save— I s-saw, saw you,” Wild hiccuped, still clutching Sky’s shirt. “You had— you weren’t, w-weren’t, moving, a laser, I saw you...”

“Oh Link,” Sky said thickly, and Wild pressed his face to Sky’s neck, a hiccuping sob coming out of him.

Twilight abruptly stood, shoulders tense as a bowstring.

“Captain. Do you have anything that would knock him out until the spores are out of his system?” Twilight asked quietly. Warriors nodded, and Twilight turned away. “Give him that. I’m not going to sit here and watch him be tortured by hallucinations any longer.”

“You want us to drug him?” Sky said in disbelief, and Twilight shook his head.

“We’re sedating him. It’s different.”

Sky didn’t know about that, but he didn’t argue as Wild sobbed again. This needed to stop.

Warriors didn’t add to the conversation either, and dug through his bag a moment before retrieving a small pouch of leaves. He got up and retrieved a cup from one of the others, pouring water inside, then crumbled up some leaves and stirred them in to the sounds of Wild’s sniffles.

He heated the mixture with his fire rod, still stirring, then blew on it and held it out.

“There. It’ll knock him out for a good ten hours,” he said quietly, and Twilight nodded, taking the cup.

“Hey Link,” Sky said softly, running a hand over Wild’s head. Wild shifted a little, and turned his head up. “We have a... medicine here for you that you need to take. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Really?” Wild asked in a small voice.

“Really,” Sky said, and Wild sighed thickly, going still against Sky’s shoulder.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Sky ignored the sting in his throat at the lie. Twilight came forward and crouched beside him, his face briefly conflicted, and Sky propped Wild up so he could help him drink it.

Strangely enough Wild didn’t resist at all, and drank most of the tea without fuss. He finished most of it before his eyes began to droop, and Sky adjusted his hold on him, making sure he was comfortable.

Wild sighed sleepily, and looked at Warriors and Twilight, then up at Sky.

“I m-missed you papa,” he whispered, and Sky swallowed back the lump in his throat, not missing the glassy look in Twilight’s eyes.

“Try and get some sleep, Link,” he managed to reply, and Wild finally closed his eyes, face looking more at peace than it had all day.

Warriors waited to be sure he was asleep, then stood and went off to the other side of the cave, likely to inform Time and the others of what had happened. And probably compose himself. Twilight remained beside Wild, his face conflicted, and Sky rested a hand on his arm, Twilight looking away and closing his eyes.

Sky sighed, looking at Wild, then held him close as he gently wiped the tear tracks from his face.

He really didn’t like caves.

[cuteniaarts]

The weight of the world is a heavy burden

Especially for a child

(Or, in slightly less dramatic terms – I imagine that the first of her past lives that Avatar Suiren [who is the Avatar after Aang instead of Korra in my AU, and also Ghazan and Ming-Hua’s daughter] gets to talk to is Yangchen, because she is too plagued by memories not her own [including Jetsun’s death, fun fact]. And Yangchen wouldn’t want another child to go through what she did on their own)

(Or maybe someone just needed an excuse to draw @katkastrofa’s latest obsession in a context that interests them as well, just in time to maybe cheer her up a little? You can’t prove anything)

[l0vergirlwrites]

obx4 spoilers below the cut

bruh….

what a massive let down

i thought the writers making luke maybank not jj’s biological father/family was the dumbest decision ever… but oh boy… was i wrong

killing him is the franchise’s ultimate fail

can’t wait to have to spend the rest of my life in shambles over this!!!

[tealmisthams]

Protection and Purpose

Here’s my first ever Whumptober fic! It took longer than I expected, but I’m really happy with how it came out. Enjoy!

—

Rating: T

Summary: Echo thought he was doing better; after surviving Skako Minor, after finding out he’d lost Fives, after enduring Order 66. Then Rex appeared and revealed to the Bad Batch the true dangers of their inhibitor chips. The captain promised to help them remove their chips, but once they got to that abandoned medbay and Echo saw the enclosed space of the surgical pod… It was all too familiar. Too late, he realized he wasn’t as recovered as he’d thought.

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Relationships: Echo & Fives, Echo & Rex

Word Count: ~5700 words

Warnings: panic attacks, grief, ptsd, referenced character death

[flowers-and-dndoc]

Whumptober Day 4: Hallucinations

Hanahaki AU snippet

He can sense someone beside him - the familiar non-presence of a hallucination.

“I suppose you’re here to tell me I shouldn’t give up hope yet?” he says, turning. He’s expecting Red’s familiar green eyes to meet his, but instead he finds th warmest, saddest brown eyes he’s ever seen starting back at him.

“Oh, this just isn’t fair,” he says. The ghost of the Doctor smiles sadly.

“Who ever said life was?” he asks. He looks exactly as he did the first and only night Rogue ever saw him - hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, maroon jacket buttoned neatly against cream-colored shirt and trousers. Rogue reaches out to touch him, and then pulls his hand back.

“You’re not real,” he says, willing himself to believe it. It’s hard when the Doctor is standing in front of him, just as much the most beautiful man Rogue has ever seen as he was the first night they’d met.

“Does it matter?” the ghost says. “You needed someone to talk to, and here I am.”

Rogue shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them, he’s alone.

Later, he cries for the first time since he’s been stuck on this god-forsaken rock.

He hadn’t thought anything could hurt worse than the ache of seeing Red’s phantom self, but every time he sees the Doctor it’s another knife to his chest.

“I’m looking for you,” the Doctor says earnestly. “I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll find you. Even if I have to tear down the walls of all the universes to do it.”

It hurts, because it’s exactly what Rogue wants to hear, and he knows it’s not real, knows this is his broken mind’s attempt to make sense of the isolation and the raw wound of a bond in his head, he knows it means nothing, but he still can’t stop a tiny, desperate part of himself from believing it.

[musewrangler]

Anakin deflected another attack and retreated further.

HOW was she doing this?

Not since he had fought Kenobi on Tatooine so many years ago had he worked so hard to defend himself in a lightsaber duel.

She leapt, pushing one booted foot off of the rocky wall and rebounding toward him, white blade speeding at his head like the trail of a shooting star.

He thrust a hand out to shove her to the side and she hit the cave wall hard .

“Father!!” Luke called in anguish. “You can’t… !”

“I’m not trying , Luke!” he yelled back, sweat dropping into his eyes. “But she’ll kill me and possibly you…!”

Leia rolled on the sandy floor of the cave and came up spitting curses and blood.

[ivyithink]

I just want to let you know that I am obsessed with the reverse AU where Claudia is the adult and loustat are the teens in the family. It's such an interesting idea and loustat look so cute in your art! Thank you for making it

Thank you so so much, I’ve very glad you enjoy both the idea and the sketches for it!!! I gotta admit I’m kinda obsessed with it too, I would LOOOOOVE to read some fics exploring this new, very different dynamic! And, like, it obviously changes the plot as drastically as everything else, but wouldn’t it be interesting to try and keep certain key moments unchanged somehow (but reversed), and then how would it end ultimately? The same horrible way for the boys that it ended for Claudia? THE ANGST POTENTIAL. But in a different fic I literally just want to see a much better functioning (because Claudia’s running things) (though it still would not be totally healthy…) vamp fam taking Paris by storm, stealing Armand’s theatre (would he still even have it, without Lestat in the picture??? see so much stuff to explore!) and enjoying life being two proud vamps + one still a bit on the fence about it all, but at least his family loves him and lets him read quietly in the back row.

Anyway, sorry for this essay, as you can clearly see, I’m also quite fond of this au, so 1. might draw for it again, nobody be surprised! 2. if you have fics with this idea — gimme gimme gimme those links, I’m very curious!!

[iggy-gotthisaccountunderduress]

Thinking about marjorie x batfam and going insane

[literaryspinster]

Calling out bad fandom behavior has become almost taboo now. You basically have to grin and swallow every microaggression because it's all fictional and it doesn't matter. If you for example, call a certain type of Homelander simp a psychopath then something is wrong with YOU. If you say you don't ship something for any reason, even if you aren't personally attacking people who do (although I will admit I sometimes judge others for shipping certain couples especially if they’re weird about it, and I reserve the right to do so on my own blog as long as I tag accordingly) you're just overreacting and it's all just fictional so it doesn't matter. Since when does art not matter? To me, art matters more than almost anything.

[caliboron]

oof. I just relapsed pretty badly

[percentstardust]

people can complain about the changes daenerys is going to make but she’s not going to listen.

[chryzure-archive]

GOD, but the slow dawning horror azure must’ve had as he realized he couldn’t escape his family, his legacy. he ran off with chrysi to study the problem and own three cats and be, ultimately, two normal ppl (or as normal as you can get when your girlfriend can still see and communicate with ghosts long past the age when her abilities should’ve faded, but… hey, he still got to meet the family and meet her four adoptive brothers and try to impress them! normal ppl things!!).

then thoughts that weren’t his own began to press into his head. he’d be watching chrysi make him tea and then he’d feel the urge to take her hand and press it into the hot stove until it gave her permanent scarring. and, god, he was so scared—of himself, and for chrysi—until he realized that they weren’t his thoughts, and then got even more scared.

nothing he did helped, after that. mordecai’s smart—he’d give azure ring scares like that, then lull him into a sense of security by allowing azure total calm for weeks. sometimes months at a time. but he’d always come back with a horrible thought or impulse or dream, to keep azure on edge. keep him sleepless. weaken his defenses so he could take control over him.

it was the end of azure lafaye as azure lafaye the night that he woke up with his hands around chrysi’s neck. they were hovering, really, but azure woke up and knew that if he’d been just a moment too late, he would’ve killed the only person that mattered to him. in fact, he knew that mordecai had woken him up on purpose. it was a warning—return to the fold, else he’ll kill chrysi by azure’s own hands.

so azure returns. he could never run away. he was trapped from the start. there was no escape. his father allowed all his rebellions, and he decided when they would stop. and now his father would take his place for him.

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[clumsyhissingcat]

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You’re still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

OC Whump

Hi, here is my contribution no.4 for Whumptober !

A bit of context : When he was younger, the Ensorceleur fled his home and met a man who drew him into his mercenary army. He trusted this man completely, without realizing that their relationship was anything but healthy. After years of committing atrocities on behalf of his mentor, he finally opened his eyes and left. But the experience have definitely left a mark.

If you have any questions, I'd obviously be more than happy to answer! Also, English isn't my first language, so i apologize for any mistake. Check the tags for TW and enjoy !

The world moved around without him seeming to belong to it. His body seemed to be in a different space-time, heavy and slow, while a complex choreography of fluid movements seemed to take place around. A thick, heavy fabric limited his movements and separated him from the rest of the world. On a deeper level, the Ensorceleur recognized the effects of an active substance, probably an opioid administered to calm the raging pain that had taken hold of his decomposing right arm. This recognition, however, didn't allow him to act on the consequences, which didn't help the swarm of agitated persons next to him to calm down.

Standing next to his shivering friend who was clearly in a state of shock, Api struggled to retain any vestiges of composure.

 -If there's one fucking piece of information that's correct and accurate in his file, it's that he reacts badly to opioids !

-It wasn't in his file, sir ! Retorted the young apprentice on the verge of tears.

-Then who messed with the files ?!

-I did the best I could with what I had, sir !

-Damn it!

At his wits end, the healer turned away and took a deep breath to calm himself. Well, at least the drug seemed to have greatly reduced the physical pain, which was the primary objective. On the negative side, the mercenary looked more distressed than Api had ever seen him.

The Ensorceleur buried his head in his knees with a moan, drawing his attention. The man who treated a show of weakness as the worst thing that could happen to him moaned. The healer dropped to one knee, hesitantly bringing his hands up to the other man. The problem with trying to heal an Entity completely drugged and trained to kill was that the slightest miscalculated gesture could have dramatic consequences.

-Easy, breathed a voice behind his ear before he could make contact with his friend.

Crouching beside him, Bryan regarded the Ensorceleur with a worried expression.

-If possible, avoid touching him. He sometimes reacts...violently, when he's not in his normal state.

-Has anything like this ever happened before ? inquired the healer cautiously.

The guild leader hesitated visibly, because...

-With his metabolism, yes, from time to time...Don't look at me like that ! he quickly defended himself against the healer's glare. We tried to get his cooperation on several potential treatment plans when necessary, when he was in top form, and he always refused ! Except that once he was injured, we had no choice but to try and treat him with what little medical history we had. So yes, sometimes things got out of hand, and I've seen him in that kind of state before.

The Ensorceleur muttered a series of garbled words incomprehensible to them, and Bryan winced.

-Well, maybe not like this. His reactions to opioids are one of the pieces of information he's shared with us on his own.

-Hey. I need you to focus on us and try to communicate how you're feeling. I have a drug with an antagonistic effect that may help you feel better, but with your strange metabolism, I'd rather we let the effect wear off on its own. But I need to know how you feel, Api said slowly and distinctly to his patient.

The Ensorceleur could have answered him. He could have told him immediately to give him the strongest possible dose of his magic product. In fact, he would probably have begged him to do so, had he been able to hear what Api was saying.

But the ghostly hand resting on the back of his neck like tthe executioner guillotine had ensured that his undivided attention went to the only person in the room worthy of it.

Didn’t I taught you that showing weakness is the best way to get others to stab you in the back ?

Not real. He wasn't. He was drugged, and he absolutely had to hold onto that thought. At all costs.

You've never been one to hide behind lies. But I guess that's what you needed to keep hiding behind Silver Shein's back like a scared child.

The hand had more weight now, nails digging into flesh.

It's pathetic. You look like a beaten dog. But I suppose my disgust is normal. Few artists are ever satisfied with their creations.

The Ensorceleur exhaled the liquid lead in his lungs in a long, hoarse hiss and tried to convince himself that the hand on the back of his neck was more reassuring than terrifying, whether it belonged to Api or Bryan, or even Freya, who distrusted him but wouldn't hurt him for no reason, least of all in front of Bryan's eyes.

He forced himself to open his eyes and stare at Api's anxious face hovering in front of him. Whatever he felt behind him wasn't real. Just a hallucination brought on by the painkiller. Nothing that could hurt him, just a conspiracy from his brain and senses. If he concentrated on Api's features, on his reassuring presence, then the hallucinations would have a harder time dragging him into the dark corner of his consciousness where they resided.

Except that a pale face burst into his field of vision, blocking out his friend's view. The Enchanter gasped and threw himself backwards. His skull hit the wall with a thud and a flash of white flashed into his retina for a second, just a second ; that was enough.

A leather-gloved iron fist closed around his neck, strangling the scream. A weight much heavier than it should have crushed his hips, pinning him to the ground, and Magister leaned over him, smiling broadly, his pupils two black holes dripping ink onto his face.

Perhaps your brother's son would make a better canvas...or a better receptacle !

The man's face melted, lengthened a little, and his hair grew and lightened until a mass of curls frame familiar features. A grotesque parody of Lucien laughed in his face, before vomiting black, stale blood onto his chest. The Ensorceleur received a few drops in his mouth and audibly choked, struggling to free himself from his mentor's grasp.

-No. N-no...

He’s choking

Even now, you don't beg. Is there anything that could make you give up your misplaced pride ? Are they so insignificant to you, those you claim to protect ?

-Nooo...

We'll see, whispered the abomination with his nephew’s face. We'll see how quickly you fall at his feet...

When I've repaired your mistake and got my new suit of flesh, finished Magister, his mentor, master, friend and executioner.

Through the delirious terror (not for himself, never for himself, because his master would never hurt him, but the others, the insignificant...) that clouded his mind, he became aware of an increasingly acute pain in his arm. He resumed his pitiful attempts to free himself. He was the Ensorceleur, he had to fight, to keep going, to do the only thing he was good at...

But he had never been able to make even a violent gesture towards Magister.

You love me more than you've ever loved anyone.

Warm breath on his nose. Ice-blue eyes, punctuated with shadows and shades, so close he could almost see the constellations formed by the black flakes in the iris.

I'll try to sedate him

Watch his arm

Moist warmth on his cheeks, distant and impersonal. Emotions blunted and others too vivid to comprehend that clash and leave him torn, barely able to put together the pieces that make him the Ensorceleur.

I love you.

A sharp but localized pain in his arm.

I forgive you.

The last image to followed him into the muddy waters of unconsciousness were those icy eyes. Or...warm brown, perhaps?

He prefered this softer brown.

L'Ensorceleur let himself be drawn under the surface, where neither ghosts nor memories can follow him.

You belong to me, after all.

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”