#(all the pressure points and vital spots he knows about)

[fishymedic]

Scene rewatching observations are so fun (I am fairly certain they took up station literally half way or certainly pretty far on the bridge) Sure barricades etc were probably pre established- but they didn't have to set up/wait there to see if anybody would take the invitation+help with the battle.

-I can only imagine another part to the 'this guy who is in charge is peculiar' is "Not only did he seem to want this task, have us waiting as long we can manage to the last possible second- but he was very specific that we be there halfway."

[midnightwriter21]

jjk oneshots: Just Relax (satoru x reader)

characters: satoru gojo x reader

warnings: fluff, comfort

an: doing gojo’s skincare to help him relax

SATORU GOJO

A sigh escapes Satoru’s mouth as he shuts the front door behind him. Walking stiffly to the kitchen he finds his girlfriend nursing a cup of coffee.

“I’m home,” he announces.

“Hey,” y/n smiles reassuringly at Satoru, a genuine expression of comfort. "You look stressed," she notes. But she's not judging him. Just observing.

Satoru looks back at her and nods, trying to control his breathing. There's something about her. Something about her presence that just makes him feel at ease. He doesn’t have to keep up the act around her. "I am."

"Why? What's stressing you out?" y/n asks. Her voice is soothing. Satoru can't explain it, but she just has this way of making him feel calm.

He shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's...nothing. I'm fine." But he's not. And she can see right through him.

y/n says, “It’s the higher ups… isn’t it?”

Satoru is taken aback by how spot on she is. He nods cautiously, a glimmer of relief washing over him. "Yeah...that's exactly what it is." He sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can handle it before I snap. The pressure. The stress. The annoyance. They’re always scheming. It's constant. "

y/n frowns, wishing she could give those old geezers a piece of her mind. Deciding to change the subject, she puts her coffee cup down, grabs Satoru’s hand, and leads him to the bedroom.

Pointing to the bed she says, “Lay down.”

Raising an eyebrow at her with a cheeky smirk, he says, “Is this going where I think it’s going?”

“No.” She replies flatly, “Now lay down.”

"Fine." Satoru does as he's told, lying down on the bed and looking up at her with a look of mild amusement. He's not sure what she's up to, but he's curious.

Once he’s comfortable y/n walks to the bathroom and begins gathering her favorite products before walking back to the bed and settling herself down near Satoru’s head.

Satoru watches her with a puzzled expression on his face. "What are you doing, sugar?" he asks, his voice still dripping with that teasing edge from before.

"Shh," she replies. "Just trust me and try to relax."

She pushes his hair back with a silly headband, makes him close his eyes, and gets to work. Lathering face wash on his skin, wiping it with a wet towel, moving to moisturizer, and so on.

He lies back on the bed, letting her work her magic. His eyelids feel heavy, the soothing touch of her hands making him feel more relaxed than he has in a long time.

"I know you're stressed," she begins, her voice hushed and soft. "This is to help you relax. Try to clear your head. To help relieve some of the pressure you're under.”

“I know you’re the strongest,” she continues, “but there’s nothing wrong with having a little help or taking a break every once in a while…”

“You’re helping me.” Satoru interrupts, “right now. This is helping me. I don’t think you realize how vital moments like this are to me. Moments with you.”

Lily smiles playfully, booping his nose, “Shut up, this is about you right now. Stop being sappy and relax.”

He chuckles, appreciating her playfulness and the way it helps him to let down his guard.

As she continues her work, he takes a deep breath and starts to really let go of all the stress and tension that’s been weighing him down lately.

"I trust you," he says quietly as he exhales, eyes still closed and his breathing becoming even deeper and slower.

“I’d hope so, otherwise I don’t think this relationship would work very well,” she jokes.

"True." He smirks at that and he opens one eye slightly, just enough to glance down at her with a teasing expression on his face. "By the way, how much does this skin care routine cost?" He asks with a sly grin.

She returns his grin, “I don’t know… you should check your credit card records.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. "I'll be sure to do that later," he says. "And if I see it's ridiculously expensive? What then?"

“It wouldn’t matter,” she shrugs, “you’re rich anyways. Probably didn’t even leave a dent in your bank account.”

"Fair point," he says with another grin. "But for argument's sake, what if it did? What if I suddenly can't afford your lavish lifestyle? What would you do then?"

y/n snorts, “Oh I guess we would have to find a cardboard box big enough to fit the two of us and live on the street.”

Satoru chuckles softly, “That would be just tragic. The strongest sorcerer and his beautiful girlfriend living in a box,” he yawns, “You wouldn’t go find another dashingly handsome sorcerer to be with? What about Nanami? I heard his pockets are pretty deep.”

y/n laughs, “Definitely not. I think Nanami would slam the door in my face before I even got a word out.”

Satoru replies sleepily, “Nanami…. would never.”

“You’re right he wouldn’t. He associates me with you though so I’m not sure he’d let me stay for very long…” She trails off.

For a few moments it’s quiet until y/n breaks the silence, “Hey Satoru?”

He doesn’t respond and soft snores fill the room.

She giggles quietly, “… I love you.”

Satoru smiles at her words, even in his sleep.

[hippiegoth97]

Dr. Feelgood: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Description: You meet up with Eddie to buy some weed from him. You've never smoked before, so he helps you get the hang of it. And the effects of the drug make you both very forthcoming about your feelings...

Content Warning 18+ Only: Drug use, swearing, female reader, smut, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety/depression and social pressure

Word Count: 5.2k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Dr. Feelgood

You've been so anxious and stressed about your midterms, you spend every waking hour lately studying. Flash cards, note-taking, reading the same vital textbook passages over and over. You know your stuff and are sure to ace everything, but your mind will not quiet down. Constant thoughts of potential failure outnumber everything else. You have so much pressure put on you by your family to do well. You haven't had the highest quality homelife, and have often gone without the things others thought of as a given. You've worked hard through all your years of schooling, trying to prove yourself worthy of something better.

Since your grades were unmatched by anyone in your graduating class at Hawkins High, you'd been awarded all the scholarships and grants you could have dreamed of. Your parents were so proud, but made a point to tell you to not ever let this greatness slip. Because the moment you do, none of your hard work matters anymore. One mistake, and it all ends for you. You know they just want you to succeed, to give yourself better than what they could manage to offer you growing up. Better than what they got from their parents. You can't let them down, let yourself down. Some days these thoughts are so overwhelming, they make your head want to explode.

You need some relief, or you're definitely going to do the one thing you've always been told you can never do. You'll blow it all and fail. You need to give yourself a break. You need something to calm your endless nerves. So you call Eddie Munson, your local dropout drug dealer. When he first picks up, he seems surprised that you even know his number. You'd been given it by a close friend before graduation, you weren't even sure Eddie lives in the same place. But he does, and he's more than happy to do business with you. You agree to meet at the picnic table in the woods behind the high school. His famous selling spot. You dress casual, just wanting to get your weed and get out, and you head on your way.

Eddie makes it to the spot before you, as you find him sitting atop the table. He has his feet on the seat, and his hands are resting in his lap. He hears you approach, looking up at you with a grin. "Well, well, well. You finally made it. You know, you're not very punctual for a bookworm." He hops down to take a proper seat, gesturing for you to join him. "Step into my office."

"Okay." You take a seat across from him, keeping your distance. You don't remember him being so cute before. But his joking nature and overall look seem to be having a special effect on you. You fidget with your hands nervously, not saying anything. You want him to do all the talking, you feel somewhat embarrassed just being here. It isn't like you to do this sort of thing.

"So, what's got you calling me for illicit substances, Y/N?" He looks at you, seemingly at least slightly concerned. He notices your hands, and your leg nervously bouncing up and down. "You know, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can pack up shop and leave right now. We can pretend it never happened." He starts putting his 'goods' back into the lunchbox he brought it in. But you don't want him to leave, you don't want to chicken out. You know you need this.

"No!" You say a bit louder than you mean to. He looks at you cautiously, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I just-" You look down at your hands, unsure how to form the right words. You sense him still staring at you oddly. You meet his gaze again. "I'm just having trouble coping. With school. I'm working on studying for midterms and I know that I know my stuff. I've been testing myself nonstop, for weeks. I can barely sleep, or eat, or think. I just-" You pause. Realizing you're just dropping all this on him when he doesn't need it. He's not your friend, or your boyfriend. He's just here to make some quick cash. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter to you. You aren't here to listen to my problems. But money is no object, I've been saving up from my job at the supermarket. So just give me whatever you recommend, and I'll get out of your hair." You look down again, cheeks burning bright red at your over-sharing.

He must think you're stupid, just another goody goody who can't handle the pressure. You're sure he'll tell all his D&D buddies about it later and they'll have a good laugh. You're holding back tears now, he'll probably laugh in your face if you cry. You sense his weight leaving the table, and he walks around to your side. He sits down beside you, legs facing outward, back leaning against the table. He lifts your chin with his finger to get a look at you. He notices your eyes threatening to let the floodgates open, and he gazes into them kindly.

"It does matter though. I may just be a lowly dropout who deals drugs for money. But I make a habit of hearing who I'm dealing with telling me why they need things from me. I don't want anyone to get hurt, that's not what drugs are for. At least not to me." He smiles gently, no ounce of joking or mocking to be found. "So, please, continue. And don't hide your face anymore, it's too pretty for that." He lets his hand fall away, but you keep your head up. He's waiting attentively to hear the rest of your story. You're taken by his genuine interest in you, what you're saying. You suppose it could be he doesn't want any accidental deaths on his hands. Nothing more.

"Well, I just have myself all amped up over the exams. Like, what if I fail? Then all of my hard work is null and void. I'm just another disappointing member of my broke family. Working dead-end jobs for the rest of my life, struggling to get food on the table. I can't go back to that. I can't let them down, Eddie." You start to sob, tears rushing down your face. He just listens quietly, nodding along. "I can't be what everyone thinks I deserve to be. Always poor, always below everyone, always having less. The world doesn't respect people like that."

You can't talk through your sobs anymore, and they make your body shake violently. You feel sick, stupid, exposed. You move to put your face in your hands, wanting to hide. But Eddie stops you. He takes your hands in his. Eddie's hands are large, warm, and soft. You gasp slightly through the sobs, your palms tingling excitedly at his touch. "Y/N, I am so sorry you feel like this. But I think you've got it all wrong."

"What?" You knit your eyebrows, preparing to yell at him for mocking you. But you wait to see how he explains himself.

He takes notice of your change in face. He shakes his head. "What I mean is, you are the smartest person I know. Fuck it, you're probably the smartest person in Hawkins! I understand the stress and pressure you're feeling, I got that a lot until I was deemed a waste of time."

"Really?" You don't mean to sound doubtful of him, but he doesn't take offense.

"Yes, really. But I think your issue is that you think the whole world is watching, waiting for you to screw up so it can turn on you. But it's not. I also think that because you're the first one in your family to get this far, it's scary. It's unnatural territory. It's okay to be scared, but you can't let the fear overtake you. You'll work yourself sick trying to keep up with unrealistic expectations. I know you'll pass those tests, but even if you didn't, it doesn't matter. At least not as much as you think it does. One failing grade isn't the end. You get far more chances than that. I should know, I used all of mine! You just don't know since you've never failed in your life before. Does that make sense?" He asks. His hands leave yours once your sobs have mostly subsided.

"It does make sense. But it's not that easy to make the thoughts go away. Can you help me quiet them down at least?" You gently place your hand on his thigh. He tenses slightly at your touch, but he puts his hand over yours, squeezing it.

"Sure thing, princess. If anyone deserves some stress relief, it's you." He turns to reach for the lunchbox, dragging it over with his fingers. You figure it's time for you to get ready to pay him, so you reach for your purse. He swats your arm, shaking his head again. "Oh, no. You're not paying today. Consider it a gift from an old friend." He smirks as he portions out some weed for you. He puts it into a plastic baggie, and zips it closed. He hands it out to you. But you realize you have no idea how to use it properly. "What? Are we being picky now, Y/N?" He's genuinely confused.

"No, I-" You feel embarrassed again. "I just haven't done this before. I'm not sure how to, either." He must really think you're stupid this time.

"That's no problem, I can help you." He says matter-of-factly. Eddie places the bag back onto the table, and pulls out some rolling papers from his box. He looks over at you a moment, noticing your burning cheeks again. "Really now, Y/N." He tuts at you. "There's no need to get all flustered and embarrassed about it. Everyone has their first time. Even I did once, a long time ago." He winks at you, focusing again on the task at hand. He opens the bag, and sets to work rolling a blunt for you. When he finishes, he shows it to you with a flourish. "Ta-Dah! Your first blunt!"

"Well done, Munson" You giggle at his theatrics.

He chuckles back, then gets down to business. "Alright, now I'll light it for you and show you how to inhale properly." He gets up onto the table again, sitting cross-legged on one end. He gestures for you to follow suit, and you move to sit in the mirrored position. He lights the blunt, inhaling deeply. He holds the smoke in a moment, smirking at you when he lets it go. You giggle again, taking in how strangely hot he looks doing that. He hands it over to you, and you just copy him. You inhale, and do your best to hold it in. But you end up coughing violently, letting all the smoke out. "Shit, I should've told you to take it easy at first. Sorry 'bout that." He smacks his forehead at his forgetfulness.

"It's fine, it's my own damn fault for trying to dive right in like that." You make a second attempt, gentler this time. You successfully hold it in and release it. Eddie applauds you, making you blush again. You hand the blunt back over to him. You take turns passing it back and forth in silence until it's all burned away. After a short period you start to feel the effects. You feel like you're moving through molasses, like in dreams. Your head is light and airy, your body buzzing. And then you find yourself in a giggle fit. But you can't seem to figure out what's so funny.

Eddie begins laughing too. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a giggler!" He gestures at you, laughing heartily. He leans back, almost falling off the table. You lunge forward to catch him, moving to his end of the table. You just barely grip him by his shirt collar, saving him from the fall. You pull him back into his original position, but you're still gripping his shirt. Your face is very, very close to his. You're both silent now, the only sound is your panting breaths fanning towards one another. You let his shirt go, moving back slightly.

"Almost lost you there, freak." You joke, a quiet laugh shared between you to break the tension.You sit directly in front of him now, your knees touching his. Your eyes are fixed onto his. You reach your hand forward to touch him, and he grabs your wrist.

"Whatcha doin' there, Y/N?" Eddie asks, giving you a curious smile.

"Can I?" You gesture at his face, almost compelled to see what he feels like. He nods, assisting you to caress his cheek. He lets your wrist go, and you continue to touch him. His eyes flutter closed as your hand moves slowly down his jaw, his neck. You stroke his chest over his shirt, and then move to his arms, using your other hand now too. He hums lightly at every move you make, eyes still shut. You move to his ankles, knees, thighs. Your fingertips feel so strange while touching him, but it feels so good you don't want to stop. But he opens his eyes again and stills your movements. You look at him, confused.

"It's your turn now." He says quietly. He reaches forward, touching your face now. Your skin lights up in flames and buzzes as he mirrors all your movements. He reaches your chest, apprehensive to make moves there.

"It's okay, go ahead." You whisper to him. He wastes no time, gently running his fingers along the curves of your breasts, and your own eyes close now. You moan slightly, you've never felt these sensations before. It's like you're flying, but still grounded. He moves to touch your ankles, knees, thighs. His hands stop, laying gently on your thighs. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. He looks different now, feels different. He looks at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"Do you want to keep going? It's okay if it's too weird." He says, not wanting to pressure you.

"It's not weird. It feels really nice. I want to feel more, if that's okay." He nods, leaning his face closer to yours. You lean in as well. Your lips are just a whisper apart. You're both panting again, waiting to see who makes the first move. You decide to be brave and close the gap, pressing your lips gently into his. He kisses you back, his hand reaching behind you to grip your hair. Your hands pull on his shirt collar, yanking him forwards as you lay down on the table.

"Mmm." He grunts as you're moving him with you. Eddie's leaning over you now, his knees on either side of yours. The kissing gets rougher, he bites your bottom lip. You gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. You moan as he explores your mouth, his hands still tangled in your hair. Every movement, every touch is amplified by your weed-induced state. It's like you're moving in slow motion, each kiss lasting hours. You never want it to end.

"Eddie, everything feels really good. Is that normal?" You ask dumbly.

"Well I would hope so, Y/N. Don't tell me you've never done anything sexual before either!" He teases, smiling down at you. You playfully smack his chest.

"Of course I have, Eddie. I just mean, everything feels...I don't know...just better I guess?" You stumble over your words as they lazily fall from your mouth. It's hard to keep any thoughts straight like this. You find yourself giggling again.

He chuckles slightly. "That's one of the many magical perks of marijuana, doll. Everything is better. Food tastes better, movies are funnier, sex is mindblowing. Emphasis on the last part." He lowers his head down again to start kissing your neck. You moan loudly. It's like he's lighting fireworks on you with his mouth. Your hands go into his hair now, and you can't resist the urge to tug at it a bit. He groans when you do so, looking up at you from where he was working on your neck. "I see you've found one of my weaknesses, princess. Be careful with that information." He grins, before returning to his work. His hands move to grope your breasts, squeezing them roughly. It causes you to moan again. He moves one of his knees between your thighs, grinding it slowly against your clothed core. You're so wet, you're sure he can feel it through all the layers between you.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You whine, feeling so many sensations at once. You swear you could cum just from his current actions. He chuckles into your skin, and nips at you.

"We'll get to that all in good time, Y/N." You laugh at his poor joke. You pull his head up to yours, smashing your lips together again. It's as if your whole body is being boiled alive, and you're desperate for more. You pull away from the kiss again, trying to lift your shirt over your head. He helps you, discarding it into the grass and fallen leaves. The cool air hits your skin, making you gasp. "Too cold?" He asks. You shake your head.

"I couldn't possibly be hotter right now." You sound so needy, becoming embarrassed again.

"Well, I disagree. Just you wait until I'm through with you." He just can't help himself, can he? He lifts you up to reach your bra clasp, undoing it with ease. The bra falls down your shoulders, and you toss it away. He takes a moment to get a good look at the view of you topless. Your tits are at attention, your nipples hard in the cold air. His breath hitches at the sight. "Goddamn, you look so gorgeous like this. You have amazing tits by the way." He leans down and starts on your neck again, using a hand to massage your left breast. You moan his name. His lips slip down your neck and chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way. He licks the valley between your breasts, then nibbles the skin. He moves to your right one, taking the hardened bud into his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ, everything feels so good. Too fucking good." Your breath is fast and hot, your body reacting to every touch to an unbearable degree. His knee is still working your core through your jeans, making you so unbelievably wet. You tug his hair again, wanting to get some reaction from him. He groans loudly even with his mouth working on your tits. You realize Eddie still has all of his clothes on. You push him off of you gently. "You're overdressed, baby." He sits upright, pulling his shirt over his head. You take a moment to look him over. His tattoos, toned chest, and the simple necklace make your eyes widen with lust. "You look so beautiful, Eddie. I hope that's not weird to say."

"Not at all, darling. I pride myself on lookin pretty." He smirks, still upright. You reach up to pull him back down to you, and you run your hands up and down his chest. He groans when you drag your nails down it, leaving red marks along the way. "Careful with the claws, babe." Your arms reach onto his back, scratching him again. He moans even louder. "Fuck, you really like pushing my buttons, don't you? You're playing with fire, exploiting my weaknesses like this."

"I guess it's just nice to know you have them." You reply, smiling up at him. A mischievous grin forms on his face.

"Well I'm sure you have plenty too. I mean, you've already been pretty vocal so far. Sounds like I don't have to do much to make you come undone." He says, his tone laced with danger. You lay here silently, realizing what you've gotten yourself into. He gets off of you, and stands in the grass next to the table. "Move to the edge of the table, love." He says plainly. Like an order.

"Okay." You obey instantly, sitting at the edge, legs dangling over. He stands between your thighs, putting his hands on your waist. He kisses you softly, leaning you both so you lay down. Once you are, he stands up straight again, moving his hands to your thighs. He squeezes the flesh roughly, rubbing his clothed erection against your core. "Fuck." You mutter as you watch him.

"Let's get you fully undressed, shall we?" He slips your sneakers off, and your socks. He undoes your jeans, pulling them off roughly. You're only in your underwear now, feeling very exposed again. He brings a hand up to slowly stroke your heat through your panties, the wetness you've built up seeping through the thin fabric. "Mmm, you're so wet. Is that all for me?" He asks as moans fall repeatedly from your lips. He pulls your underwear off, putting them in his pocket. You open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you. "I'll consider them a gift from an old friend." He chuckles, taking a moment to drink all of you in. Your shocked face, your perfect tits, your beautiful legs. His gaze falls on your pussy, and he can't help but stare. You're so wet and shiny for him, dripping slowly onto the crisp leaves below.

"See something you like?" You slyly question him. He meets your gaze with lust-filled eyes. He doesn't reply, only nodding. He drops to his knees in front of you, gripping your thighs again. He kisses his way from your left knee to just before the spot where you need him most. You moan when his lips meet your inner thigh. He continues on the other side, teasing you with his pace. He's directly in front of your pussy now, his warm breath fanning over it. "Eddie, please don't tease anymore. I need you." You plead. He responds by licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. "Fuck!" You practically scream. Eddie takes your curses as fuel to the fire. He licks your bundle of nerves ferociously, like the man is having his last meal. He inserts two fingers into you, pumping in and out at a punishing pace. You keep involuntarily bucking your hips off the table, causing Eddie to grip you tighter in place. His tongue and fingers work you over. Curses, moans, and Eddie's name spill from your mouth like a mantra. He's got you under his spell, and he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

"You taste so good, Y/N. So fucking sweet." Eddie says breathlessly. He resumes his work on you, tying the knot in your belly tighter and tighter with every stroke and lick. He worries his teeth on you gently, causing you to gasp. You're so close you can't stand it.

"Fuck, Eddie! Please, right there! Make me cum, I'm so close!" You cry out to him, desperately asking for release.

"That's my good girl. Make a mess for me. Cum on my face." He says just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. You feel the knot snap, and you swear you've been shot into outer space. Your legs shake violently, and you feel yourself dripping onto Eddie's face. He licks up every last drop he can, causing your cunt to spark as your high subsides. He finally gives you a break, standing up to look in your fucked-out eyes. "Fuck, Y/N. You are so unbelievably hot." He leans over you, pressing a kiss into your lips. You moan as you taste yourself on him. He stands again, bringing the fingers he used on you to his mouth, sucking them clean while staring at you.

"It's your turn now." You slide off the table, kneeling before him. You grasp his belt, using it to pull him closer. He assists you in undoing it, and you pull his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks his shoes off, and tosses his socks away. He steps out of his jeans, leaving him just in his boxers. You reach up and palm him through the thin material, causing him to moan. You pull his underwear off, letting his cock spring free. You waste no time taking it in your hand. You stroke Eddie slowly, before licking the tip in circles.

"Shit, Y/N." Eddie gasps, letting his hand fall to your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. You take as much of him in your mouth as you can, swirling your tongue as you move back and forth on him. He lets out moans and curses frequently as you work him.

"Mmm." You hum around him to rev him up further. You drag your nails up and down his thighs, leaving light red marks behind. He falters, his other hand gripping the table behind you. He's breathing heavily, you look up at him. He looks so gorgeous like this, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, mouth agape, eyes screwed shut. He opens them briefly to look down at you, smirking again.

"It feels so good, Y/N." He breathes out. "Keep going, I'm almost there." You nod at him, picking up the pace. He moans again as you pump him mercilessly, gagging yourself as he hits the back of your throat. "Jesus, fuck." He chokes out, falling off the edge. You feel his release spilling into your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You release him with a pop, smiling up at him. "My, my. You're a master at giving head, darling." He offers his hand to help you stand up. Then he grabs you by the waist, lifting you onto the table. His lips attack yours, his hands roam all over your body. Eddie moves his mouth to latch on your neck again, you cry out when he bites you roughly.

"Christ, Eddie. I'm not a chew toy." You sigh contentedly. "Feels pretty fucking good, though." He responds by biting the other side of your neck. You gasp, digging your nails into his back. He stops to look in your eyes again.

"The weed will wear off soon, we should move this along." He lets you go, climbing back on the table. You turn around to see what he's got in mind. He lays down, motioning for you to come to him. "Come here and ride me, princess." You go to him, positioning yourself just below his cock. You lean down to kiss his neck now, leaving plenty of hickies on him. He moans loudly when you bite down on the skin. You lift yourself to your knees, taking his length in your hand. You move his cock slowly back and forth against your folds, causing both of you to whine. You look down at him, grinning as you sink down onto his dick.

"Fuck, Eddie. You feel so good inside me." You start to bounce gently on him, moaning his name over and over as he fills you to the brim. He's the perfect size to hit your g spot each time you come down on him. He grips your tits with his hands, squeezing them roughly, teasing your nipples between his fingers. Your moans grow in volume, and the sound of your skin slapping together echoes through the woods.

"You're doing so good, Y/N. You take my cock so well." He says, low on breath. You're both slicked with sweat, which makes the slapping even louder. He lets go of your tits to squeeze your ass. He moves you into a new angle in his grip. You practically scream as your g spot is being hit harder and better than before. Eddie also makes a point to thrust himself up into you occasionally, your moans catching in your throat.

"F-uck."You roll your hips as you ride him into oblivion. You sense another orgasm coming on. Waves of pleasure crash over you, building to a hurricane. Your pussy starts to clench around him involuntarily, and Eddie can tell how close you are. He moves a hand to rub your clit in gentle circles, making the waves crash harder over you.

"Keep going, darling. I'm close, too. Cum for me." He rubs your clit rougher now, and you feel the tropical storm overtake you.

"Oh, fuck! Eddie!" You scream, juices leaking out of you and onto his stomach. Your cunt clamps down on his length, which makes him groan as his own release overcomes him. Eddie's load spills into you as you keep riding him through your high. Your orgasm subsides, and you collapse onto him, still seated on his dick. You're both breathing heavily, and you can hear Eddie's heart pounding in his chest. His arms wrap around you, and he kisses the top of your head.

"You look so pretty when you cum, Y/N. Wish I got a picture of that."

"You can have one next time." You reply, not fully realizing what you just said until the words have left your mouth.

"Next time, huh?" He questions. Your cheeks burn as you realize he probably doesn't want to see you again. Why would he? You're nothing special. "It's a date." He says, and you sit up to look at him.

"You really want to see me again?" You're in disbelief, thinking this might be the joke now.

"You don't have to act so surprised, Y/N. I like you, and clearly you like me too. Now, maybe we should continue this conversation when I'm not still inside you. How's that sound?"

"Okay." You say quietly, feeling rather silly. You lift yourself off of him, your mixed release pouring out of you and onto Eddie's cock. You both look at it in lustful shock. You lean down to lick it all up, not leaving a single drop behind. Eddie watches you with wide eyes, and you just smirk at him.

"Jesus, Y/N. You just keep getting sexier by the minute." He pulls you into him again, kissing you passionately. He groans at the taste on your lips. You break the kiss, hopping off the table to gather your clothes. You hand him his, and you both dress quietly. Once you're fully clothed, you sit back down at the table. He's sitting with his legs outward again, and you're positioned sideways on his lap. You both playfully rub each other's arms and legs, sharing kisses and giggling. The weed has worn off now, and you wonder if that's all this was. But you still feel a fire burning inside you for Eddie. You're just worried he doesn't have one for you.

"Are you sure you like me, Eddie? It's okay if you don't." You look down at your lap, afraid of what he might say now that he's sober.

He lifts your face to look at him again, looking deep into your eyes. "I can tell you right now Y/N, I really like you. And I'm not one to lie. I get that you're worried about it just being the drugs, I can't say I wasn't either. But I want to be with you, high or not."

You don't say anything else, you just grab his face, pressing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The end.

[midnightlizard]

hey, could you please do a Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader where the reader is jealous because of Edwards and Amelia reassures her that she only loves her etc...? (they've been together for about 3years)

Jealousy

Amelia Shepherd x gn!reader

Summary: when someone constantly tries to get at your girlfriend it can be irritating, very irritating, but thankfully Amelia doesn't care about anyone else.

Warnings: sexual talk at the end but nothing happens

A/N: I combined this with another request, ("Amelia Shepherd x reader where an intern keeps looking at Amelia in a OR and reader gets mad")

also because I don't write fem reader I changed it to gn reader

Word count: 1247

-

-

It happened again.

You and Amelia had another surgery together.

Which is great, you loved working with your girlfiend. You two operated on different parts of the human body so whenever the rare opportunity of working together presented itself, you always took it. This man had a puncured lung so you had to act quickly and asked the neurosurgeon to make sure the brain never stopped receiving oxygen.

What you didn't particularly like was working with someone else.

Amelia chose Edwards to work on this man with her, because of course she did. Your girlfriend was an excellent surgeon so you trusted her judgment and never tried to change her mind about her residents.

You just wish she did about this one resident.

Edwards wasn't bad at her job per se, but it just bugged you how her attention was half on your girlfriend and only half on the things she was supposed to be learning. It was highly unprofessional.

"right answer Edwards" Amelia chirped from behind her mask after the woman correctly answered her question.

"thank you, doctor Shepherd" you rolled your eyes at that, you were surprised at how she even got it right, since she never stopped looking at her face.

Your feet were starting to ache for how long you've been standing but thankfully the surgery was almost over. "Edwards how's his blood pressure?" of course, she didn't hear you. So you repeated the question.

"uh" she hesitated for a second, probably because the vitals weren't written in Amelia's eyes "110 over 70" she turned her head to look at you, as if she was expecting a scolding "it's good" she added.

"yea I know that, I'm a surgeon" you bit back, your eyes never leaving your patient's lungs. Amelia gave you a look from her spot behind the man's head, but said nothing.

After a minute of silence you breathed out a sigh of relief as you could finally take your hands out of his chest.

"forceps and gauze" you weren't talking to Edwards this time, since it wasn't her job to hand you what you needed, but when your free hand still felt empty after a second and you were about to yell at the intern, he frantically shook his head and pointed at the assistant, who held the tools in her hand, while talking to your girlfriend.

"Edwards!"

You raised your voice to the point even Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at the shift in your behaviour. It wasn't loud enough to be called unprofessional, you have seen much worse under Bailey's guidance. But you were never one to scream without a valid reason, especially in an OR.

The woman instantly whipped her head to look at you with widened eyes, while her shoulders visibly tensed.

"I don't know if you have noticed since you've been staring at Dr. Shepherd all this time" you vaguely pointed at her, your other hand never leaving the chest tube, keeping it in place between your patient's lungs "but we are actually in the middle of an operation. So I'd really appreciate it if you gave me my tools so I can close him up and go tell his family he survived."

You clenched your jaw when silence fell into the room right after your words, only now realizing the tone of your voice. But you didn't regret it, not really.

Especially when your hand was still hanging empty in the air.

Truth was, Edwards didn't hear you the first time and was afraid to give you the wrong tools.

"forceps and gauze." you repeated, your voice lower but still firm "now."

"right yea, sorry"

- - - -

Once his wound was properly sealed and Amelia assured you his brain was completely fine, you instructed your interns to take him to his room and keep an eye on him, and quickly stormed off.

Stephanie took her mask off and approached her mentor with the intention of apologizing for her behavior, but Amelia stopped her, and went looking for you.

She found you in the waiting room, talking to the man's family. "no need to thank me, I just did my job" she could only see the back of your head but she knew you enough to recognise the smile in your voice. "your husband is strong and he's going to have a quick recovery"

Your girlfriend stopped behind you without interrupting your conversation, and kindly smiled at the family as they walked away.

"okay what was that?" she searched for your eyes once they were out of earshot.

"what?" you run a hand through your hair, finally free from the surgical cap "people hug us all the time" and it wasn't a lie, but you knew it wasn't what she was referring to.

"no, not that" she shook her head and crossed her arms.

You opened your mouth while your eyes moved around the room, but the only thing that came out of it was a sigh.

You sat down on one of the chairs, looking up at her "I don't, I don't like Edwards"

"she's good at her job" Amelia didn't waste time defending her resident, but her tone wasn't aggressive.

"I know that, I know she is" you took a big breath, trying to find the right words. This whole thing has been bugging you for months now and you never said anything because you didn't want to sound controlling or irritating. But you couldn't hide it anymore.

"I don't like how close she is to you."

Amelia uncrossed her arms and slid her hands inside her pockets. She had a feeling of where this was going.

"She's fascinated by your work and by your mind and I get it, I love it too. And I get that she wants to learn so she assists your surgeries but she follows you everywhere."

Somewhere along your words, Amelia took a step closer and was now standing between your legs, looking down at you.

"Every time I want to talk to you she's always there, we can't even have lunch together without her sitting with us and asking you questions."

One of her hands came up to rest on your cheek to make you look at her "you're jealous of Edwards?" and despite the amused tone, her smile seemed gentle.

"You don't have to be, (Y/N)" she continued after a small silence "she's interested in my work and yes, she asks a lot of questions. But it's just that"

She saw you shake your head and took both of your hands in hers "and even if it wasn't, I don't care. I'm your girlfriend, not hers. You're my partner, she's not. I'm sorry if it made you jealous, but there's really no reason to worry. I love you, just you, okay?"

You softly nodded your head, and your smile quickly mirrored her own when she squeezed your hands "okay. thank you"

"of course" she muttered. Then she pulled on your hands, pulling you up "come on, I think we need to get our heads off of it and I know just the place"

You chuckled at her words and raised your eyebrows "you want to have sex in an on-call room?"

Amelia's smile never left her lips, if anything, it only got bigger "yes, and please stop acting like it hasn't happened already" she shrugged her shoulders and started guiding you to the room "besides, I need to show you who I stare at all day"

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist - Grey's anatomy Masterlist

General Masterlist

[guplia]

My sixteenth fic for @badthingshappenbingo!

Fandom: Ninjago

Trope: Kick Them While They Are Down

Also available on AO3!

Raging Winds

Lloyd lay on the dirty floor of Ronin’s store, panting heavily.

He didn’t regret what he did earlier that same day; if Morro had got hold of the Sword of Sanctuary Ninjago would have been toast. And it would have been entirely his fault. How could he have been so stupid that he let himself get possessed? He’d dealt with the Overlord before. Sure, it was with the help of the other ninja, but he was ultimately the one who destroyed the form of pure evil. Or maybe it was pathetic, because he came back a little over a year later and if Zane wasn’t a nindroid the ninja would have been mourning his loss forever. 

You’re useless, Lloyd told himself. Can’t stop a stupid ghost that could have easily been defeated by water.

But right now he was experiencing the consequences of helping Kai. So far, all Morro had done to him was un-possess (is that a new word?) him, and throw his body on the floor. The ghost’s friends were watching, laughing and mocking the Green Ninja struggling to breathe on the floor.

Stop panicking, Lloyd, you stupid little boy.

“I’ve been wanting to see how… solid I can get for a while,” Morro said, more to the other ghosts than Lloyd. “But I couldn’t test it with actual opponents like the other ninja. Couldn’t risk myself ‘dying’ again.” He smirked as he slowly made his way to the boy curled up on the ground.

Lloyd was trying to keep his panic in check unsuccessfully. For the last week he had been starved, forced to drink alcohol, and given half a cup of water at best everyday. He knew he had lost a concerning amount of weight at this point, though it was the least important matter to him right now. 

He shut his eyes and tried to think of better times, when Morro kicked him in the stomach. He gasped loudly and clutched it, before rolling on it to avoid it getting hit again.

Morro was satisfied by Lloyd’s reaction, just like the other ghosts, who were cheering. And he wanted more. “So I can make myself solid enough to land a hit, huh? Let’s see what the extent can be.”

He stepped on Lloyd’s back and smiled when he heard the groan coming from him. He slowly increased the pressure until he decided that doing any more would kill him.

“I’d finish you right now, but unfortunately I might still need you to complete my mission. But at least now I know what I’ll do in celebration of the Preeminent’s return.”

It was then that Lloyd had had enough. He was sick of being treated like a puppet by Morro and being helpless about it. He was going to fight back.

He used most of whatever energy he had left to sit up, and held his fist out. Morro gasped at the sudden action and almost stumbled backwards. Lloyd only understood what was happening when he tried to land a punch, only for his entire arm to sag to the ground.

Oh. He was mocking him.

And his theory was proven correctly when Morro and all the ghosts burst into loud laughter. The master of wind grabbed Lloyd’s neck and choked him.

“Who do you think you are, huh?” The ghost asked rhetorically, watching the blind gasp for air in vain. “I’ve looked through all your memories. You didn’t deserve to be the Green Ninja. It was all nepotism from your grandfather.”

Asphyxiating Lloyd gave Morro a new idea, which he displayed with a grin. He let go of the weak boy, letting him fall to the floor. 

“I’m the master of wind. That means I can control where all the air in the room is going. Here’s something I never tried before.”

Lloyd suddenly noticed that he couldn’t breathe. It was like there was nothing to breathe at all. 

Oh. He took the air away from him.

Lloyd tried to move somewhere else to get the vital oxygen, but he was far too weak. He thrashed in his spot, and tried to scream. But no sound came out. He was in a vacuum. 

Morro circled around his victim, watching him suffer. “Maybe you should have thought before giving the sword to your friend. I’m sure you want to stay alive to see him again.”

Lloyd tried fighting, tried breathing, but this was yet another battle he had lost. Within seconds, his eyes shut and he went limp.

Morro let go of the air, letting it move freely around the room again. Staring at Lloyd’s pale, bruised face still gave him bursts of anger, though. He used to be Wu’s favourite student– and his favourite child. Now this pathetic piece of shit had stolen not only that position, but his dream role– the Green Ninja.

It made him see red– and even after everything he’d done to the kid today he’d decided he hadn’t suffered enough. So, he pounced on the slack body and started punching about every inch of his body, until his skin turned purple. His friends had stopped laughing too, now merely spectating there silently in shock. 

But Morro wasn’t done. He got up and dragged Lloyd’s body with him by the hair, and threw him across the floor, like he was an angry toddler playing with his rag doll. The kid’s body hit a shelf and some random items nobody cared about fell on him. 

Morro walked over to Lloyd again and pressed a couple fingers against his neck. There was still a pulse.

He kicked his chest, probably hard enough to break a rib by then, and just slumped over the shelf in exhaustion. That’s how long it took him to realise that his breathing was erratic too, except his was in rage.

[milkywayes]

WIP Whenever

tagged like a week ago by @serendipitys-teapot, thank you so much for thinking of me! I finally got around to it >:)

I think most everyone has already done this, but since it was a week ago maybe they’d like to do it again? lol. no pressure! tagging @gammaraydeath @kalliesa @dispatchwithlove @continuous-spec @callista-curations

from the very capricious (read: it’s been kicking my ass for months) draft of Cipher’s chapter 11. I’m making headway again and I hope I can start uploading chapters again soon on ao3! sorry for the wait everyone.

“Loitering,” he says mildly, though a bobbing mandible betrays his discomfort. “Listen to yourself. It’s not loitering… if I’m here with a purpose.” She crosses her arms. Fingers tighten around the Normandy piece that she forgot to return to the pile, sweaty in her grip. She’s probably ruining the paint job on it. “And what’s that purpose, Garrus?” “Waiting for you.” The tug at her mouth strengthens. So does the flush, which has reached her ears by now. “Intercepting, you mean.” He shrugs as if to say, same thing. “You know,” she ventures, “I’ve come to expect you to just barge right in.” “The call was… a surprise.” Garrus breaks eye contact to glance down at his omni-tool arm, then shrugs again. Sub-zero temperatures have begun creeping through the section doors at Garrus’ back, spreading goosebumps over her arms—he shivers, pushing off them and stepping around her in one stilted, stalking movement. “Had to take that one. I figured you’d come out eventually.” She turns on the spot, keeps looking at him. Tracking him. “No-comms black op?” “You could say that.” Leaning back on her heels means she gets a better look at his face; he notices, takes an additional step back to grant her the view. His shoulders point down the length of the corridor, but his head’s tilted her way, indifferent to the scrutiny. It’s odd: all this time with no answers forthcoming, and now he’s suddenly unconcerned about letting her listen in on classified communications. Holding eye contact as he does it. Every move intentional. She catalogues the angles of his face, strangely patient, offset only by the ceaseless musing and scrolling of his visor. She says, “That wasn’t just mission HQ checking in with the ground team. I don’t know Blackwatch’s command structure, but the guy’s the primarch, and he’s overseeing this personally. So either it’s of vital importance—or he’s making an exception for you.” “The thing about exceptions is they never end well. Any lapse in conviction’s a hole for the enemy to exploit—or so goes the age-old maxim.” The delivery’s joking, but his countenance is not; fingers move to pluck at the flared sleeves of his jacket, picking off lint, imagined or otherwise. “Victus loves the idea of having a protégé. I’ve found it’s best not to psychoanalyze him over it. Too risky.” Shepard, pursing her lips, has some thoughts about that. Also about Garrus, whose new-found openness appears to have hard limits—as evidenced by his answer, which wasn’t really an answer at all. She forces herself to relax out of stance. She’s been standing with her heels ground into the flooring, like this is a square-off at high noon rather than… what it is. Her finger pads dig into the Normandy’s nose, a grounding sensation, and then she’s closing the distance again. Lightly, she asks, “Scared he’d psychoanalyze you right back?”  “Absolutely.”

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Teen Words: 2.5k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

When he can stay awake for more than an hour at a time, he sits in the hard plastic chair by Ellie’s bed, allowing himself to doze while she’s awake; otherwise, he makes it his job to keep watch. It’s partly out of habit, and partly because he doesn’t trust Marlene or her Fireflies any more than he trusted the random strangers they encountered on the road.

When Ellie catches on, she rolls her eyes and tells him to go back to bed, but he doesn’t miss how she shies away from the male guards who accompany Marlene on her regular check-ins, doesn’t forget how she fell asleep clinging to his side when he was sick. She puts on a brave face, but they’ve spent enough time together he knows when she’s anxious or scared.

Nurses come and go, but they don’t do more than take Ellie’s vitals or bring food and take away the empty trays. At points he’s nudged awake and asked to follow a penlight with his eyes, then he’s handed a couple of pills. 

“It’s Tylenol,” the nurse says when he looks at her the first time. “Your head’s killing you, right?”

It is. He doesn’t take the pills.

For all her protests, Ellie sleeps a lot, too. But after a couple days of just sitting around, she nudges him out of a light sleep with obvious irritation.

“Dude, you stink. They have hot water.”

“Not leavin’ you alone–”

“I’m not ‘alone’, the bathroom’s right there,” she says, gesturing to the door on the other side of the room. “And I think I can take care of myself for ten minutes.”

“I know that. I trust you. But I don’t trust them,” he mutters.

“What’re they gonna do? They’re not going to kill me, Joel. They need me.”

I need you more , he thinks selfishly.

“Seriously. If they come at me with a needle I’ll yell or something. But I’m gonna pass out if I have to keep smelling you. You’re a fucking biohazard.”

“Fine. Ten minutes,” he grumbles. “But don’t move. And if anyone comes in here–”

“I’ll scream bloody murder,” she says flatly, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Just go , stinky.”

Marlene left them fresh clothes; pre-outbreak scrubs scrounged from the hospital lockers if Joel had to guess. He grabs a set of light blue ones and shuts the bathroom door behind him none too gently.

In the sterile, antiseptic-laden air, he has to admit Ellie is right. He’s foul. He starts the shower and turns it to the hottest setting. The water pressure is furious and the tiny room immediately begins to fill with steam.

He gets his first look at himself in the mirror over the sink and flinches at the sight. Hair shaggy and matted, patchy beard grown over with stubble, and bruises and scrapes dot his face. There’s a crusty brown scab on one side of his head and he can feel the goose egg knot at the back, both still tender. The picture doesn’t improve when he eases out of his flannel and peels off his soiled undershirt, wincing; his stomach bears a dark purple-red mark in the shape of a rifle butt and he can see the outline of his ribs.

Turning away, he finishes undressing and steps under the stream. The pressure on his bruises and cuts is a special kind of agony, but the heat loosens his muscles. The water at his feet runs a murky gray-brown for several minutes. There’s a single bar of soap–no shampoo, no conditioner, none of the fancy stuff they had in Jackson. The thought brings an unexpected pang of homesickness for a place he has yet to call home. He thinks he should try to find a way to make contact with Tommy, let him know they made it, but he doesn’t know how to go about it without revealing his brother’s location to the Fireflies and putting the settlement at risk. He shelves the idea for now, another problem for another day.

It takes longer than his promised ten minutes just to get the layers of road dirt and grime off his skin, out of his hair. When he finally emerges from the shower, his flesh is a raw bright pink and he’s almost woozy from the heat, but he feels slightly closer to human.

Voices outside put a knot in his throat.

He stumbles into the scrub pants and yanks open the door. Marlene is sitting on the end of Ellie’s bed, and he’s obviously interrupted a conversation.

“Get away from her,” he growls.

Marlene arches an eyebrow. “Joel–”

“Don’t care, get out,” he snaps.

 “Call off your dog, Ellie,” Marlene smirks.

“Dude, gross,” Ellie mutters, face flaming. “Put a shirt on. No one wants to see that.” 

Frustrated, he turns back and grabs the scrub top, yanking it over his head. Wet patches dot the shoulders where his hair still drips. He has the vague notion that he can’t be very threatening looking like a scruffy drowned rat in blue pajamas and makes a mental note to wash out his real clothes the first chance he gets.

“We’re just talking, Joel,” Marlene sighs when he comes back.

He ignores her, turning to Ellie instead. “Thought I told you to get me.”

“Well, she didn’t try to stick me with any sharp pointy things, so I figured it was fine,” she huffs.

Joel grimaces. “It ain’t about that. And you,” he rounds on Marlene. “I know exactly what you’re doin’. Just like with Tommy, puttin’ all sorts of ideas –”

Marlene scoffs. “Your brother was a grown-ass man who made his own choices. As I heard it,  he wanted to get the fuck away from you.”

“Maybe so, but I ain’t gonna stand here and let you put more of your propaganda bullshit in her head. Did enough a’that already–“

“Oh, please –“

“Oh my fucking god, just fight or fuck already!”

Ellie’s words cut through the room like a knife, temporarily reducing them to stunned silence. 

Joel balks. “The hell–”

“You’re acting like a couple of stupid fucking babies,” she scowls, looking back and forth between them. “Throw hands or kiss about it, but stop fucking arguing about fucking nothing ,” 

“He’s not my type,” Marlene says, lips twitching in a smirk.

“Then I guess you’ll have to take it outside,” she snaps. “Let me know who wins, okay? Jesus.”

“Kid–”

“It’s fine,” Marlene says brusquely, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans. “Another time.”

Joel watches her go, hands on his hips, jaw working. When she’s out of sight, Ellie turns on him, nostrils flaring.

“Dude, we were just talking .”

“Yeah, well…you can talk to me,” he mutters, gathering his pile of filthy clothes from the bathroom floor. “You can’t trust her, Ellie. She’s not good people.”

“Coming from you,” she mutters.

He sets his jaw. “The difference is, I ain’t never pretended to be anythin’ I’m not. Think about that before you go gettin’ all buddy-buddy with the woman who tried to have us killed the minute we set foot here.”

“She didn’t–”

“She sure as hell did. They had eyes on us the whole time. They could just as easily have held us at gunpoint but they bombed us instead, and she’s the only one around here callin’ out orders, ’case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You don’t–”

“I do,” he snaps, shuffling over to his side of the room. He tries to hide it, but the hot shower and this conversation have taken most of his remaining energy. He sinks down onto the bed, facing her.

“I know that woman better’n you, and I know what she’s capable of,” he continues more softly. “She may look like your friend, but…you need to think real long and hard about who you trust, kiddo.”

“So just you, then?”

“While we’re here? Yeah, that’s about right.”

She grimaces, eyes shining as her next words come out in a whisper. “She knew my mom.”

He swallows hard, wondering what Ellie’s mother would think of her little girl being used as the Fireflies’ pin cushion. “Don’t make her a good person.”

Ellie huffs, face darkening. “I’m going to rest. You don’t have to…to watch me or whatever.”

With that, she gets up and snaps the curtain partition between their rooms closed, the rings grating sharply across the metal bar on which they’re strung, effectively ending the conversation. But her words still echo in his ears.

She knew my mom.

Ellie never talked about her mother before. He ignores a pang of jealousy–it’s fuckin’ irrational to be envious of a woman who died years ago. That woman had never seen her daughter’s smile, hadn’t kept her fed and sheltered and safe, hadn’t seen her face light up at the sight of a giraffe or a dumb joke or a new issue of her favorite comic book.

He’d known Ellie less time than her mother had carried her in her womb…but their time together had to count for something.

Selfish old man , he thinks, easing back onto the bed, turning onto his side so his good ear faces up. He stares at the wall, exhausted but unable to sleep, and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to protect the girl from herself.

Ellie

Marlene comes in while Joel is in the shower, and Ellie can’t help but think she timed it that way. She wants to ask why she and Joel are at each other’s throats, then she remembers–something about Tommy and the Fireflies. Ellie knows the feeling, hearing Riley talk about the Fireflies like they were some kind of saving grace, convinced she was going to change the world with a few pipe bombs and a gun, knowing it was all a bunch of bullshit.

The irony is almost painful. Riley would be laughing her ass off now.

Riley.

Her memory is an ache she has too much time to indulge in now that they’re settled. She looks down at her arm, remembers the mall, tucked against Riley’s side as she watched the tendrils under her skin creep up, up, up, so certain she was watching her own death in slow motion.

But then they stopped, and Riley’s hadn’t. Then there was the cold grip of the gun in her hand when Riley’s eyes were no longer hers, when the lips she’d kissed not an hour before twitched and her jaw dropped open in a groan that wasn’t fully human…

“Ellie?”

“Hmm?”

She’s drifted away again. She keeps doing that, her mind going fuzzy and lost in the past. Joel said something about PTSD once, but she was too ashamed to ask what that meant beyond her brain being all fucked up. It always makes Joel nervous, but now Marlene is the one sitting at the end of her bed, looking at her with concern.

“Ellie? I asked what happened in Colorado.”

“Oh. Nothing,” she says automatically.

“Are you sure? You kept talking about it when Joel was unconscious–”

“Nothing happened,” she snaps.

“Did he…hurt you?”

Ellie swallows hard against the lump in her throat. How could she know about David? Did Joel tell her? No, he wouldn’t. Can Marlene see it in her? The darkness, the bad thing, her violent heart. She has the crazy idea that she didn’t get all the blood off, there was so much blood, blood in every crevice, in her ears, in her hair, at the corners of her mouth. Joel’s rough hands cleaning her face with cold snow all those weeks ago, maybe he missed some and that’s how Marlene knows what she did, what she did, what she–

No, dummy. She’s asking about Joel.

Ellie rears back. “Joel would never hurt me.”

Marlene’s disbelief shines in her eyes and suddenly Ellie’s chest hurts with the desperate need to make her understand.

“He would never,” she repeats. “He never…he kept us safe. He protected me. He never– never –he’s not like that.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, the word drawn out. “Okay, Ellie, I hear you. Did someone else hurt you, then?”

She shakes her head tightly.

Marlene clearly doesn’t believe her. Ellie doesn’t care. She’s not having this conversation. She could barely have this conversation with Joel and he’d been there.

“Why did you tell me he left?” 

She asks the question before she can stop herself, eager to change the subject.

“I said he took the payment,” Marlene says carefully. “Not that he left.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Same fucking thing.”

Marlene considers her, tilting her head. “I thought he had left,” she sighs finally. “But obviously he changed his mind.”

Ellie glances at the bathroom door, hears the shower running on the other side. She thinks of Maria and her warning.

The only people who can betray us are the ones we trust.

It’s all so fucking confusing. 

She’s seen the guards. It’s not like Joel just walked out and then turned around and walked back in. He’d had a full escort when he’d found her, hand pressed to the window, relief in his eyes.

But Marlene was honest with her before, too. What reason would she have to lie now? She told her the truth about her bite, about her mother, she told her they could make a cure and even Joel said that was probably true…

It’s all mixed up in Ellie’s head, so tangled and twisted and frustrating she wishes she could disconnect and drift away again.

“You look so much like your mom,” Marlene murmurs, looking at her with a soft expression. “You have her eyes, you know.”

Ellie sniffs. How could she possibly know? She’s never even seen a picture of her mother. She wants to tell Marlene to fuck off, but there’s a sad little orphan inside her who craves every scrap, every morsel of information, ready to accept the broken glass pieces of her history and hold them up to the light to be inspected like treasure.

“I do?”

“You do. And her nose,” she smiles a little, speaking quietly, as if to herself. “And her attitude.”

“Was she a pain in the ass, too?” Ellie mutters.

Marlene laughs. “When she needed to be…yes. She spoke up. Sometimes people think that makes you a pain in the ass, but…sometimes it’s what gets the job done.”

That makes something in Ellie’s chest pull tight, a blush warming her cheeks. It’s a compliment, she thinks, one she’s not sure how to accept.

She’s like her mother.

But she’s been thinking about her father, too. 

No reason.

“Did you know my–”

Before she can finish asking, the bathroom door is flung open and Joel is standing there, half-fucking-naked and pissed off about something, and he and Marlene are arguing, and fuck, she’s tired of listening to them already. They’re fighting like a couple of stupid kids in the rec yard and she just wants to lie down and put her hands over her ears and try to make sense of everything.

Then Marlene leaves and it’s just her and Joel and a stupid lecture about not trusting anyone but him, which is bullshit because they wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Marlene and the Fireflies.

She shuts the curtain on further conversation and doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.

[cheapbeds]

How to Clean Your Therapur Mattress

Understanding Therapur Mattresses

Therapur mattresses are top-notch, cosy sleep surfaces. Knowing the special features & structure of these mattresses is key to getting the best rest. They are built with materials that support pressure points & reduce movement transfer. This technology leads to better sleep & better health.

When picking a Therapur mattress, you must consider your needs for comfort, support & firmness. Each model has different levels of firmness for people with different sleeping styles or body types. So, it’s important to try them out before buying.

Having a Therapur mattress is essential for good sleep, but maintaining it is also vital. Clean dust particles weekly with a vacuum cleaner & use a damp cloth or mild detergent for any stains. Plus, keep it away from direct sunlight, as heat can cause wear & tear.

My friend didn’t like his Therapur at first, thinking it was too firm. But after adjusting it to his comfort, he realised that getting a quality bed improved his sleep quality. Get ready to sweat cleaning it, but the result will be worth it!

Preparing for Cleaning the Therapur Mattress

Ready to clean your Therapur mattress? Follow this four-step guide to prepare it for cleaning!

Firstly, remove all bedding and vacuum the mattress. This will get rid of dirt and dust.

Secondly, treat any stains with a specialised cleaner or mix vinegar and baking soda.

Thirdly, rinse the stains off with plain water after a few minutes.

Finally, let the mattress dry completely before putting on clean bedding.

Remember: moisture can ruin your Therapur mattress! So make sure it is completely dry before you make it up again.

Cleaning the Therapur Mattress

Maintaining a sanitised and healthy sleeping environment is essential. Cleaning mattress is one way to do this. Here’s how to keep it providing good support, comfort and freshness:

Take off all bedding and linens.

Vacuum for dust mites and dirt particles.

Spot-clean any stains with a mild detergent or cleaning solution suitable for the mattress material.

Let the mattress dry completely before putting the bedding back on.

Notice! Always read the manufacturer’s guidelines for specific instructions.

Having a fresh and clean Therapur mattress is important. It impacts your health positively and gives you an uninterrupted sleep routine. Don’t let a dirty bed ruin your sleep! Let the mattress air dry, and make sure your cat doesn’t mistake it for a new scratching pad.

Drying the Therapur Mattress

To keep your Therapur mattress hygienic and comfortable, it’s important to dry it properly. Moisture buildup can be unhealthy and uncomfortable. Here’s the right way to do it:

Remove all bedding and covers.

Open windows and doors to get proper ventilation.

Blot out any excess moisture with a towel or cloth.

Place the mattress on a flat surface like a drying rack or solid ground outdoors under direct sunlight.

Ventilate for about 6 hours, flipping the mattress every hour.

The drying time may vary depending on humidity levels and airflow. Make sure the mattress is dry before using it again.

You may also use a fan or hairdryer (on cold settings) for faster and more thorough drying.

This guide will keep your Therapur Mattress healthy and comfortable for years. Studies show that improper drying can lead to dust mites and other allergens in mattresses, causing skin irritation and other severe health issues over time. Luckily, Therapur mattresses have moisture-wicking technology to prevent mould growth and damage.

It’s important to take care of your Therapur mattress; after all, it’s like taking care of a little one, except it won’t cry when it gets wet!

Maintaining the Therapur Mattress

Creating a regular cleaning routine is vital for keeping your Therapur mattress in great shape. Vacuuming with a special attachment will remove dust and dirt. Also, airing your mattress after you take off the sheets can reduce moisture and prevent mould and bad smells.

If you have stains, take care of them right away with a damp cloth and mild detergent. Don’t use strong cleaning solutions or soak the mattress, or it could get damaged. Investing in a waterproof mattress protector helps keep the mattress clean and dry.

Rotating your mattress every three to six months is a great way to keep it in good condition and improve sleep quality. Sleep Country Canada suggests replacing mattresses every 8 years as they become less supportive and hygienic.

Original Source: Cleaning the Therapur Mattress

[secret-stash-of-literary-quotes]

Mrs Dalloway

Waves of divine vitality which Clarissa loved. To dance, to ride, she had adored all that;

However beautiful the day might be, and the trees and the grass, and the little girl in pink—Peter never saw a thing of all that. He would put on his spectacles, if she told him to; he would look. It was the state of the world that interested him; Wagner, Pope’s poetry, people’s characters eternally, and the defects of her own soul;

For in marriage a little licence, a little independence there must be between people living together day in day out in the same house;

She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxicabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day;

Her only gift was knowing people almost by instinct;

Hazel eyes which had that look of apprehension in them which makes complete strangers apprehensive too. The world has raised its whip; where will it descend;

‘For you should see the Milan gardens,’ she said aloud. But to whom There was nobody. Her words faded. So a rocket fades. Its sparks, having grazed their way into the night, surrender to it, dark descends, pours over the outlines of houses and towers. But though they are gone, the night is full of them; robbed of colour, blank of windows, they exist more ponderously, give out what the frank daylight fails to transmit—the trouble and suspense of things conglomerated there in the darkness; huddled together in the darkness; reft of the relief which dawn brings when, washing the walls white and grey, spotting each window-pane, lifting the mist from the fields, showing the red-brown cows peacefully grazing, all is once more decked out to the eye; exists again;

Moments like this are buds on the tree of life;

The dwindling of life; how year by year her share was sliced; how little the margin that remained was capable any longer of stretching, of absorbing, as in the youthful years, the colours, salts, tones of existence, so that she filled the room she entered, and felt often, as she stood hesitating one moment on the threshold of her drawing-room, an exquisite suspense, such as might stay a diver before plunging while the sea darkens and brightens beneath him, and the waves which threaten to break, but only gently split their surface, roll and conceal and encrust as they just turn over the weeds with pearl;

She knew nothing about sex—nothing about social problems. She had once seen an old man who had dropped dead in a field—she had seen cows just after their calves were born;

But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people;

She was not old yet. She had just broken into her fifty-second year. Months and months of it were still untouched. June, July, August! Each still remained almost whole, and, as if to catch the falling drop, Clarissa (crossing to the dressing-table) plunged into the very heart of the moment, transfixed it, there—the moment of this June morning on which was the pressure of all the other mornings, seeing the glass, the dressing-table, and all the bottles afresh, collecting the whole of her at one point (as she looked into the glass), seeing the delicate pink face of the woman who was that very night to give a party; of Clarissa Dalloway; of herself;

Then, just as happens on a terrace in the moonlight, when one person begins to feel ashamed that he is already bored, and yet as the other sits silent, very quiet, sadly looking at the moon, does not like to speak, moves his foot, clears his throat, notices some iron scroll on a table leg, stirs a leaf, but says nothing—so Peter Walsh did now;

‘Well, and what’s happened to you?’ she said. So before a battle begins, the horses paw the ground; toss their heads; the light shines on their flanks; their necks curve. So Peter Walsh and Clarissa, sitting side by side on the blue sofa, challenged each other;

‘In love!’ she said. That he at his age should be sucked under in his little bow-tie by that monster! And there’s no flesh on his neck; his hands are red; and he’s six months older than I am! her eye flashed back to her; but in her heart she felt, all the same; he is in love. He has that, she felt; he is in love;

And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power, as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky;

Take me with you, Clarissa thought impulsively, as if he were starting directly upon some great voyage;

Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame;

Well, I’ve had my fun; I’ve had it, he thought, looking up at the swinging baskets of pale geraniums. And it was smashed to atoms—his fun, for it was half made up, as he knew very well; invented, this escapade with the girl; made up, as one makes up the better part of life, he thought—making oneself up; making her up; creating an exquisite amusement, and something more. But odd it was, and quite true; all this one could never share—it smashed to atoms.

It was a splendid morning too. Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets. There was no fumbling—no hesitation.

To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now and again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks—all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere.

This susceptibility to impressions had been his undoing, no doubt. Still at his age he had, like a boy or a girl even, these alternations of mood; good days, bad days, for no reason whatever, happiness from a pretty face, downright misery at the sight of a frump.

She was worldly; cared too much for rank and society and getting on in the world—which was true in a sense; she had admitted it to him. (You could always get her to own up if you took the trouble; she was honest.) What she would say was that she hated frumps, fogies, failures, like himself presumably; thought people had no right to slouch about with their hands in their pockets; must do something, be something;

Infinite numbers of dull people conglomerated round her, of course. But odd unexpected people turned up; an artist sometimes; sometimes a writer; queer fish in that atmosphere;

As we are a doomed race, chained to a sinking ship (her favourite reading as a girl was Huxley and Tyndall,* and they were fond of these nautical metaphors), as the whole thing is a bad joke, let us, at any rate, do our part; mitigate the sufferings of our fellow-prisoners (Huxley again); decorate the dungeon with flowers and air-cushions; be as decent as we possibly can;

She had a sense of comedy that was really exquisite, but she needed people, always people, to bring it out, with the inevitable result that she frittered her time away, lunching, dining, giving these incessant parties of hers, talking nonsense, saying things she didn’t mean, blunting the edge of her mind, losing her discrimination;

The compensation of growing old, Peter Walsh thought, coming out of Regent’s Park, and holding his hat in his hand, was simply this; that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained—at last!—the power which adds the supreme flavour to existence—the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light;

But now, at the age of fifty-three, one scarcely needed people any more. Life itself, every moment of it, every drop of it, here, this instant, now, in the sun, in Regent’s Park, was enough. Too much, indeed. A whole lifetime was too short to bring out, now that one had acquired the power, the full flavour; to extract every ounce of pleasure, every shade of meaning; which both were so much more solid than they used to be, so much less personal;

He felt an extraordinary relief, wanted nothing so much as to be alone; was annoyed to find all her little attentions—cigars, notes, a rug for the voyage—in his cabin. Everyone if they were honest would say the same; one doesn’t want people after fifty;

A sound interrupted him; a frail quivering sound, a voice bubbling up without direction, vigour, beginning or end, running weakly and shrilly and with an absence of all human meaning into ee um fah um so foo swee too eem oo— the voice of no age or sex, the voice of an ancient spring spouting from the earth;

Through all ages—when the pavement was grass, when it was swamp, through the age of tusk and mammoth, through the age of silent sunrise—the battered woman*—for she wore a skirt—with her right hand exposed, her left clutching at her side, stood singing of love—love which has lasted a million years, she sang, love which prevails, and millions of years ago her lover, who had been dead these centuries, had walked, she crooned, with her in May; but in the course of ages, long as summer days, and flaming, she remembered, with nothing but red asters, he had gone [...] Still remembering how once in some primeval May she had walked with her lover, this rusty pump, this battered old woman with one hand exposed for coppers, the other clutching her side, would still be there in ten million years, remembering how once she had walked in May, where the sea flows now, with whom it did not matter—he was a man, oh yes, a man who had loved her. But the passage of ages had blurred the clarity of that ancient May day; the bright-petalled flowers were hoar and silver frosted; and she no longer saw, when she implored him (as she did now quite clearly) ‘look in my eyes with thy sweet eyes intently’, she no longer saw brown eyes, black whiskers or sunburnt face, but only a looming shape, a shadow shape, to which, with the birdlike freshness of the very aged, she still twittered ‘give me your hand and let me press it gently;

It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy;

It has flowered; flowered from vanity, ambition, idealism, passion, loneliness, courage, laziness, the usual seeds, which all muddled up, made him shy, and stammering, made him anxious to improve himself, made him fall in love with Miss Isabel Pole, lecturing in the Waterloo Road upon Shakespeare;

‘Beautiful!’ she would murmur, nudging Septimus, that he might see. But beauty was behind a pane of glass. Even taste (Rezia liked ices, chocolates, sweet things) had no relish to him. He put down his cup on the little marble table. He looked at people outside; happy they seemed, collecting in the middle of the street, shouting, laughing, squabbling over nothing. But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the teashop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him—he could not feel. He could reason; he could read, Dante for example, quite easily (‘Septimus, do put down your book,’ said Rezia, gently shutting the Inferno), he could add up his bill; his brain was perfect; it must be the fault of the world then—that he could not feel;

Now that he was quite alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know;

For he would say it in so many words, when he came into the room. Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels;

Nothing else had she of the slightest importance; could not think, write, even play the piano. She muddled Armenians and Turks; loved success; hated discomfort; must be liked; talked oceans of nonsense; and to this day, ask her what the Equator was, and she did not know;

All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!—that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant...;

And her fine eyes, having no eyes to meet, gazed ahead, blank, bright, with the staring, incredible innocence of sculpture;

[localwebslingers]

There had been plenty of times that Peter had lost track of the time himself, both in and out of the lab. Not just while in the mask either, though that was probably currently at the top spot for reasons why he had. Times that he'd forgotten to eat until he realized how much his stomach hurt from the hunger, he'd gone several days without sleep before too. When it was a bad enough situation he couldn't find a good enough reason to just rest. The last time they were in a lab with such a focused goal, he'd lost track a few times but watching Harry dive in as deep as he had made Peter keep a closer eye on the clock. For his sake rather than his own, but it had worked.

Harry was right to point it out, even if his tone was teasing and playful, Peter didn't miss the genuine care and meaning behind it either. Coffee was still vitally important, but they'd make sure each other was cared for. Even with how heavy the topic was, it felt like it would be easier this time to do that. He smiled and caught the hand that poked him to press a kiss against it, "It's a deal."

It wouldn't be over quickly, not just from being able to take more time in general, but this wasn't something that felt like a good idea to rush. In any sense of the word. Peter had watched Conners take the time to try and do it right and, while they both had the downside of not realizing they lacked a lot of key information, it had still gone badly. A combination of pressure from Oscorp and determination, but the end result was still the same. They could take the time, to be as careful as they had to be, and make sure they did it right. Make sure that chance stayed a real chance and not another tragedy instead.

Peter squeezed his hand gently, "So, how do you want to start on this? I know you said getting a new laptop is on the list but, do you want to start there?" he asked, pausing after a moment and frowning slightly, "I don't know if you'd have to bring me up to speed on anything with the serum or not..." it wasn't something he'd ever asked Harry about. Not past anything he genuinely should know about, like how long it lasted and what to expect in those first few days that it had been taken. Especially once he started hanging around for those days rather than leaving. How it was made, how it worked with Harry's genetics, all of that Peter was in the dark on and hadn't even humored the idea of asking about.

There hadn't been a reason to, and just like his dad's research, Harry closely guarded the information about it. Peter wasn't about to belittle that, "Your lab...pretty sure that means you get say on the starting point."

|| @inhcritance ||

It was going to be different, and it was going to be the two of them, and Harry welcomed the thought of it. Because he'd treasured their times in the labs at Peter's universe, trying to get things done as fast as they could but also knowing science enough that they could focus and yet also have fun with it.

There wouldn't be a time limit on this now. They could spend as much as time as they wanted on it, and Harry did have the money to sustain them and get them any equipment they needed. They could do things right, and do them properly, and not take needless risks.

It would also be nice to have a goal like that again. Because they still worked in a lab side by side, and they'd tackled smaller projects... but it would not be the same. And Harry did not see himself working on this with anyone else.

"You're right, of course you are." He smiled. "The stack is already doomed."

And so were likely dozens of pens, because Harry tended to have pens and paper almost everywhere in the lab, as long as it was safe. And even then they oftentimes got lost anyway.

And then Peter's voice turned teasing and Harry grinned.

"We'll certainly stock up on coffee." He agreed, before playfully poking Peter's chest. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who loses track of time when really focused." He hummed. "So we'll take care of each other." He added, fond and entertained both. "Deal?"

Not that, all in all, Peter wasn't great at reminding Harry to eat when needed. He was just determined to be better at it, this time.

@localwebslingers

[ilovefandoms102]

Finally Mine-Part 4*

Pairing: Andy Barber x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Batshit crazy ex’s and a protective new husband...

Note: So sorry this took so long to get out I hit a bit of a writing block but it’s finally here! I hope you guys like it!

Warnings🛑: guns, violence, injuries, hospitals, smut(punishment, choking, orgasm denial, overstim, oral(fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, coercion, dubcon/noncon aspects, dom/sub aspects)

Part 3

“I object this marriage!” Laurie shouted, cocking a pistol and pointing it right at you.

Both you and Andy stared in horror, watching like it was in slow motion as she pulled the trigger…

Andy was too late as the bullet penetrated your side, sending you collapsing in his arms. Police barged into the room, taking Laurie down to the ground shoving her arms behind her back.

“Die you stupid bitch! You ruined my family!” she shouted at you, but all you could do was look into Andy’s watery blue eyes.

“Keep pressure on it baby, you’re gonna be ok.” Andy croaked, putting his hand over your bloody one.

“I-I do.” you whispered, Andy sobbing as your eyes closed.

At the hospital, Andy paced the waiting room, his tux and hands covered in your blood. He’d already spoken to the police demanding to press charges against his ex-wife.

“We need you to come to the station, Andy.” one of the detectives said.

“I’m not leaving until I know she’s ok.” Andy growled.

“Laurie wants to see you.” he spoke, Andy froze in his spot.

“The nerve of that woman.” Andy hissed, following the detectives out.

The station smelled of stale coffee as they led him to an interrogation room where Laurie was cuffed to a table. Andy entered the room, angrily sitting in the chair across from her. The woman looked at him like she hadn’t just shot the love of his life on their wedding day.

“Andy, sweetheart, you don’t want to do this to me. We were meant to be! Now that bitch is out of the way and-!” she ranted, but Andy wasn’t having it.

“Don’t you EVER speak about my WIFE like that again Laurie! You and I are done-we have been for a long fucking time. Y/n is the love of my life and I will do anything and everything to protect her.” Andy raged, pounding his fist on the table.

“You once felt that way about me Andy! You're gonna get tired of that bitch too then run to the next one that’ll open her legs for you!” she screeched, Andy’s chair scraping against the cold floor as he stood abruptly.

“You can kiss your son goodbye Laurie, you’ll be looking at a good 10-20 years and I’ll make sure you get what you fucking deserve.” Andy sneered, stomping out of the interrogation room.

Andy was back at the hospital right when the doctor came out.

“She’s resting, the bullet missed any major arteries. Your wife and baby will be just fine, but I’d like to keep them overnight just to make sure there are no complications.” the doctor said, Andy’s heart leaping at ‘baby’.

“Baby?” Andy whispered, the doctor nodding in realization.

“I suppose the two of you hadn’t found out yet, but yes congratulations.” they smiled as they led Andy to your room.

“She should be waking up soon.” the nurse that was checking your vitals informed Andy as he sat down next to your bed, taking your hand in his.

Andy thanked the nurse as they left, staring at the bandage covering your side then his eyes moved to your lower stomach. He put his hand where the baby would sit, rubbing gently.

“An-,” you gurgled, his eyes snapping up to you.

“Hey sweetheart, you’re ok I’m here.” he softly spoke as he got some water for you to sip.

“What happened?” you croaked, the pain in your side dull but it was still present.

“You were shot, but the doctor said you’re ok…you and our baby are ok.” Andy whispered, gently rubbing your cheek as your eyes widened.

“Wha-What?” you stammered, your hand automatically going to your belly.

Andy nodded, tears shining in his eyes as his hand joined yours. You reached weakly for his cheek, rubbing his soft skin along his beard. Andy leaned into your touch, holding your hand with his free one as he turned and kissed your palm.

“I love you so much, Mrs.Barber, and our baby growing inside you.” he whispered, not missing the way your eyes lit up with your new name.

“I want our child to want for nothing Andy, it’s important to me.” you croaked, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Then that’s what will happen my love, I promise.” he assured.

Luckily, you were released a few days later with strict orders to not overwork yourself until your wound was completely healed. Andy watched you like a hawk, hovering over your every move. You loved him, you really did, but with your hormones it was making it difficult for you to not bite his head off. It had been weeks and you needed out of this house.

Jacob had also moved in with you for the time being until Andy found a better place for all of you since you’d need an extra room. The teen surprisingly took a liking to you and even helped around the house which Andy said he’s never done before. He also made you promise to not go back to work while he would be deep into a case for the next few weeks, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

You went in after Andy left to take Jacob to school, your staff greeted you eagerly and all the kids hugged at your legs. It took everything in you to not burst into tears as you remembered why you loved your job. That being said, you were not happy about the mountain of paperwork, emails, and calls you had to go through since you’d been out a few weeks.

“Hey boss? Someone’s on line one for you.” a front desk member called over your intercom.

You picked it up of course, introducing yourself, but your heart dropped at the voice on the other line.

“So, I caught my wife in a lie.” Andy growled, the anger pouring from his tone made the hairs on your neck stand.

“Baby, I-” you attempted to explain yourself.

“Not a fucking word little one, just know your punishment won’t be light this time.” he hissed, immediately ending the call after.

Your heart raced, contemplating on even going home because of your enraged husband. Part of you wanted to call him back and beg for his forgiveness, and the other part didn’t give a fuck what he had in store. Staring at your wedding ring Andy got you while you were still in the hospital, maybe you could talk him out of your punishment.

You parked your car beside Andy’s, looking up at the huge building where his office was. Getting out of the car, you pulled your coat tighter to your body, wearing nothing under. Yes, this was how you were planning to get out of trouble. Andy was always speechless when he even got a glimpse of you naked, so you’d decided to use this to your advantage.

After entering the building, the click of your heels echoed through the hall as you found his name plaque, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He sat at his desk, jotting down something on a case file.

How did you get lucky enough to marry a man so fucking sexy? He literally didn’t have to do anything, he was effortlessly beautiful.

You felt his eyes hit you as he glanced up, doing a double take as he sat up straight. Timidly, you let yourself the rest of the way in, laying your bag on the small table.

“Sweetheart, very brave of you to come to me when I’m fucking livid with you.” he growled, slamming the file shut.

“I’m sorry baby, really I am. Please will you just hear me out? Please?” you begged, walking over to him as you took his cheeks in your hands.

Andy suddenly stood, snatching your throat in his hand. You froze as his eyes were so angry, the heat flowing from him like a dam bursting.

“You disobeyed me, lied to my fucking face, and now, you really think I want to hear your bullshit excuse?” he inquired, tightening his hold on you.

“Andy, please.” you whimpered, the front of your coat slipping so the top half of your breast was exposed.

Andy looked, his eyes flashing which excited and terrified you. He quickly undid your coat, pushing it to reveal your naked body. His free hand eagerly groped your left breast, tweaking and pulling at your sensitive nipples.

“So this was your plan hmm? Try to seduce me like the little slut you are? I’m hurt you think I’d give in that easily.” he smiled mischievously.

“Andy, baby please listen to me!” you insisted, but was silenced by your husband slamming you face down over his desk.

“You did this to yourself my love, I’m only being gentle enough to not hurt our little one.” he hissed as his hand reached under, rubbing along your belly.

For some reason, that set you off. You pushed off the desk, shoving Andy away from you.

“I’m so fucking tired of you treating me like I’m below you Andrew! God I should have never fucking married you!” you screamed.

Wrong thing to say, very, very wrong.

In the next two seconds, Andy had you pinned against the wall, his shoulders heaving from how angry he was. Your eyes looked into his, terrified of what he would do as he squeezed your throat harder.

“Don’t you every fucking say that again! You listen to me, and you listen good baby. You. Are. Stuck. I wanted you, I had you, and now, now I get to keep you for the rest of our lives. Don’t think for a second I’m letting you go, especially with our baby inside you, so best find a way to deal with it now because no matter what…you will not escape me.” he angrily explained as he pushed you further into the wall.

“An-Andy, you-you’re hurting me.” you sobbed, tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hissed, his fist hitting the wall right beside your head.

“You’re gonna be so sorry you mouthed off to me sweetheart.” he smirked, dragging you by the hold on your throat to his hard chest as his lips molded against yours.

This only made your need for oxygen worse, your nails clawed at his hand crushing your windpipe. He finally let go of you when he walked you to the couch, throwing your limp body down as he began to undress. You couldn’t help but watch as he undid his tie with ease, and his fingers flew down the buttons of his dress shirt.

Your feet moved in autopilot as they pushed your heels off, tossing the coat you’d worn off to the side as you stared up at your half naked husband. His hand gently caressed your cheek, a huge difference to his touch earlier.

“Lay down baby, spread those pretty legs.” he ordered, almost too quickly you obeyed.

“See…you say I’m not in control of you my love but…it was too easy to get you here.” he taunted, your eyes turned away from him.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t get any.” you growled, snapping your legs shut as you started to sit up.

Andy, now naked, easily overpowered you and slammed you back down into the couch. His big hand glided down your chest to your pussy, feeling your wetness.

“Oh I’m getting it baby, and you can’t stop me.” he assured as he shuffled down, tossing one leg over his shoulder as he went down on you.

His tongue wasn’t gentle, going right to work to taste all of you. The feeling of his beard scraping your sensitive skin had your belly flipping so violently you thought you might cum now. His lips sucked your clit hard, a squeak leaving your lips as you pulled at his hair hard.

Andy groaned as he felt your clit throb against his tongue, letting his fingers dance up to your hole where he slithered two of his fingers in. He smirked as you took in a deep breath, continuing his assault on your clit while his fingers curled at your gspot. You whined when he pulled back, wiping the sides of his mouth.

“Baby,” you pouted, using your heel of the leg over his shoulder to push him back to where he was.

“Bad girls don‘t cum.” he stated, shrugging your leg off his shoulder as he leaned over you.

Anger spiked through you, pushing at his chest trying to remove him.

“But, you’re my bad girl.” he whispered against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Get off!” you huffed, but Andy only grinned wider as he slid himself inside you.

You gasped so loud Andy had to put his own hand over your mouth, grunting as he rammed himself all the way inside of you. It had been a while since the two of you had sex due to your injury, so having him now felt so foreign yet so familiar. You could already feel your high building back up quickly, Andy feeling it along with you as your walls strangled his cock.

“Jesus baby, your pussy missed me this much hmm?” he grinned against the skin of your jaw as he left a mark there.

“N-No,” you panted, feeling his laugh against you as he only fucked you harder.

“Oh really? Your pussy says differently my love.” he taunted again, loving the way you started fluttering around him.

How your orgasm came so quickly, you didn’t know, but it hit you out of nowhere. Your back arched, giving Andy access to your tits which he took advantage of as he kissed and sucked at the skin. This only prolonged your orgasm as Andy kept going, thrusting with all his might as your legs shook.

“Cum with me baby, know you got one more.” he whispered, smiling when you shook your head no.

“Yes you can, I know you can baby. Don’t you want to please your husband?” he growled, somehow going at an animalistic pace that gave you no choice but to cum again.

Both of you rutted into each other until you physically couldn’t, your shaky breaths mingled with his as he kissed you with such an intensity it overstimulated you even more. You had to pull away, but Andy kept you captive against him.

“Honey,” you moaned, pushing at his broad chest.

“I told you my love…you’re not getting off easy.” he chuckled darkly, and you were terrified of what that meant.

[americxn]

colin x reader! riding colin and then he gets a call and has to answer but ur a tease

You, dear anon, have impeccable taste.  wordcount: 1.9k warnings: riding, penetration, cockwarming kinda thing

Interrupted (Colin x female reader)

The shrill ringing of Colin’s phone cut through the breathy cacophony of your mingled moans, the device buzzing and vibrating on the hard surface of the bedside table it resided on.  The column of Colin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his head thrown back against the pillows and his breathing uneven. You slowed the movements of your hips, your slick thighs quivering as you leant forwards, palming his phone whilst laying a tender nip to the side of his neck. Handing the phone to Colin, he murmured an exasperated curse before holding the phone to his ear, trying in vain to calm his breathing. You sat back, his cock spearing slightly deeper into you as you did so, causing you to harshly suck your lower lip in between your teeth, biting down hard. “Hello?” Colin spoke casually down the phone after taking a vital second to regain his composure, though his voice trembled slightly as he addressed whoever was down the line. “Yes, this is he.”  You clenched the inner walls of your tender cunt, letting out a shaky exhale as it forced Colin’s thickness to press into the entirety of your slickness. He looked up, shooting you a warning glance before continuing to speak on the phone. 

You itched to continue to move on him, your hips rocking almost imperceptibly back and forth in order to try and gain some traction. Colin shot out his spare hand, gripping the top of your thigh in silent order to stop moving. But you couldn’t. You had both been so painfully close to release and now your high had receded due the interruption. His harsh grip on your thigh only fuelled your intense arousal and you whimpered softly as you picked yourself off his cock slightly, only to slide down its length once more. Colin shuddered, his eyes drifting closed at the movement. His grip on your flesh tightened to the point of pain when he shook his head tightly, clearing his throat before continuing to engage in conversation through his phone. You were tempted to snatch the damned thing from his and chuck it across the room, but instead opted for another experimental rise and fall on his cock, wanting nothing more than for Colin to buck his hips up into you as he had been doing before answering the phone, allowing his cock to plunge even deeper inside you. With a poorly repressed broken moan, you repeated the action slowly, drawing out the pleasure that the simple movement gave you. Below you, Colin’s eyes shuttered, his jaw clenching as he listened to whoever was talking on the phone whilst putting all of his might into ensuring that his own pleasure remained inaudible.  You clit pulsed steadily as you seated yourself fully back onto cock, reaching forwards to grip onto the collar of the shirt that you had unbuttoned to display the strong panes of his chest. Your need to touch him, to feel him, was indescribable and so you let your lips convey your desperation for him, kissing, nipping and licking along his collarbones, up his throat and to his chin. He emitted the smallest of groans when your teeth closed over the underside of his jaw, his head pressing further back into the pillows to give you better access to his soft skin as you sucked at the flesh you had clamped in your hold, releasing moments later to run your tongue over the small hurt. But still, Colin remained on the phone, his voice getting progressively higher and breathier with desire as you leaned in once more to trail your teeth and tongue to the other side of his jaw. “Yes, I’ll talk to him about it when I’m in the office tomorrow and call you back.” Your stomach leaped at his unsteadily spoken words, hopeful that the conversation was soon to be over. Colin’s sharp jaw bone was pronounced beneath your tongue as you trailed your lips across it, lingering to plant several soft bites and kisses to his skin. As you did so, you pushed your hips down, aware that you had slipped halfway off his cock in the process of leaning over his body.  He seemed to grow even harder as you did so if that was even possible, pressing into you with more persistence. This drew more wetness to flood from your filled cunt, pooling slightly at the base of his dick. You moved your lips to the shell of his ear, licking up its softness once before letting out a breathless moan, knowing exactly what it would do to him before walking your hands back down his body, slowly pushing yourself upright again. You sunk further onto him, your own head tipping back and your mouth parting slightly. Below you, Colin’s swallow was audible, his eyes now glued to your body as you trailed one of your hands down to your cunt, rubbing at your clit harshly as the other hand came to grapple with one of your tits, fondling the soft mound whilst you pleased yourself. Colin’s eyes were wholly dark as he watched this, his mouth going utterly dry as you let out a soft gasp, your eyes drifting closed. Your fingertips brushed against the very bottom of his shaft as you drew ever larger, harder circles onto your clit, drawing in a hissing breath. That small touch almost had him shooting his cum up into you. Colin adjusted himself, leaning forwards whilst propping himself up on one elbow and reaching forwards, batting away the hand that worked feverishly on your clit.  His eyes flicked up the yours as his fingers replaced where your hand had just been, muttering a casual “yes” of agreement into the phone as three of his fingertips came to rest on your clit, beginning to work in painfully slow circles. He knew just how much pressure to apply to have your eyes rolling and your body jolted slightly as his fingers drew even more pleasure from you. Unable to stop yourself, you once again began to rock back and forth on Colin’s cock, gasping when he brushed against that hidden spot deep within you that had your toes curling with each forward rock of your hips. Your other hand moved from where it entertained your tit, both hands raising to clamp over your own mouth as your pleasure mounted and mounted, a light sweat breaking out all over your febrile skin, a series of pants falling from your mouth and slipping through the barrier your fingers had made. “Yeah, of course. Well thanks for getting in touch with me. As I said, I’ll ring you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to him about it and let you know what he says... yeah, no problem. Okay, bye.” Colin’s phone was thrown to the floor within a second of hanging up, his hands coming to grab onto your hips. “You wanna fuck me so badly, huh?” He demanded through gritted teeth, his nails digging into the skin of your hips as you were finally allowed to resume your audible moans.  “Then go on. Fuck me. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t hold yourself up anymore.”  You whimpered at his roughly spoken words, merely being able to nod pitifully at his order as you picked yourself all the way off his cock before slamming yourself back down on it fully. Again and again and again. Colin fell back against the pillows as your ministrations began to draw deep moans and muttered encouragements from him, his eyes flicking between your ecstasy-twisted face and the bouncing of your tits as you fucked yourself furiously on his dick. “Colin.” His name was a drawn out sigh on your lips and it seemed to be a sort of unleashing for him, as he began to crash his hips up to meet yours, fucking you savagely with a force that drew all the breath from your lungs. A broken shriek fell from your parted lips, your chest heaving for a satisfying gulp of air as he rutted into you, the force of his upwards thrusts causing your body to bounce under his strength; you had to work in order to stop your body from being thrown off him. Crying out, you fell forwards onto Colin’s chest, your legs giving out as waves and waves of intense pleasure slammed into you, each ripple of euphoria bringing you closer and closer to release. “Colin, I -” You gasped when his hands fell onto your ass, holding your body to his and ensuring that you couldn’t maneuver so much as an inch away from his cock as he pounded you. “Look at me.” He growled, his nails scraping your soft skin as he trailed his hands up your spine, finding your hair and yanking your head back. With a bleated cry, you slid your pleasure-hooded eyes to his, Colin’s unusually rough treatment of your body both surprising you and turning you on immensely. Your body shook, tears welling in your eyes as the pleasure he was giving you had you almost reduced to sobs. “Are you gonna cum?” You nodded, his hands holding your hair tightly and forcing your head to tip back even further, fully exposing your throat to him. Colin hummed roughly at your response. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum, too. Your little pussy is gonna make me - ah... cum.” You blinked, trying to clear your blurring vision as you nodded, your mouth fully agape as you nodded, not being able to find the words to verbally encourage him to his own release.  Without warning, Colin slammed up into you, his swollen head hitting deep against your sensitive walls. That single thrust caused your eyes to roll, Colin’s own orgasm barrelling into you at the sight of the whites of your eyes, your pupils lost in pleasure. He released your hair as you moaned with abandon, his arms wrapping around your shoulder blades to pull your face onto his chest, his own pants and low groans filling your ear. Your body writhed soundlessly on his as he kept your orgasm prolonged by continuing to thrust into you, his cum shooting deep and being held within you, his seed hot as it coated your inner walls. Your fingers trembled as you grappled with the material of his shirt, needing to grip onto something in a futile attempt to ground your mind that was lost to abundant pleasure. Colin recovered before you did, murmuring encouragements as you quivered, trapped in the throes of the intense aftershocks of your orgasm, your knuckles white as you gripped onto his shirt. “Fuck.” You exhaled weakly, not even trying to lift your head as Colin chuckled, leaning to press kiss to the top of your head. “Are you alright?” You nodded into his chest, the energy needed to lift yourself off his cock evading you.  You fell silent, enjoying the warm security of Colin’s tight hold around your shoulders, the way your head rose and fell with his laboured breathing as he, too, worked to recover from the intensity of his own orgasm. Your eyes drifted closed. After several minutes, when you had finally recovered enough energy to consider shifting off his now limp dick, you cracked open an eye. “That phone call better have been damn important.” Colin’s responding laugh rumbled through you, causing you smile as you pushed yourself up, lifting a leg to dismount from him and engaging in the familiar race against gravity as you trotted for the bathroom, Colin’s cum threatening to spill down your thighs. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna (if you wanna be added or removed just let me know <3)

[rumblelibrary]

Hello! I'm watching The Alienist- Angel of Darkness, and I keep thinking of a fic where laszlo's wife!reader just gave birth and this case worries the poor man more than usual, because their baby is in danger and he can't get into the assassin's mind. Perhaps the reader could offer to breastfeed laszlo, and they have an in-depth conversation about the workings of the killer's mind and why the reader herself enjoys nurturing her husband. Perhaps it would even become a habit after the case was solved and every time Doctor Kreizler wanted some milk, he would let her know with a touch just below her breast that would go unnoticed in public as a gesture of affection? I think I thought about it too much, what do you think about writing about it?

The Marriage of Happiness [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: erotic lactation, breastfeeding kink, mention of other kinks and of murder

A/N: What do I think about writing it? I think THANKY YOU because I could write Laszlo having a boobie obsession for the rest of my life. I do think about it daily and it is just THE kink for him (as poor @cazzyimagines knows how obsessed I am). The case of studies mentioned are taken from psychology books of the time. I don''t know what point you're with Angel of Darkness so I am not giving out too much.

The night was dark and tensed, not a soul on the streets of the residential area you lived in with your husband, the only light up the one in your bedroom.

You became mother three months before welcoming the first little Kreizler of her generation. It was hard but worth every second, every moment of the pregnancy and the delivery your husband was with you. You were lucky, you felt lucky to be with a man like Laszlo: open minded, modern, charming and righteous.

You smiled walking around the room as you lulled your baby humming a soft lullaby, the baby observing you with dazzling eyes, you could see she was tired and the melody kept her attentive but also lulled her to a place of comfort.

You swayed slowly in a gentle waltzer, your arms embracing the tiny body wrapped up into the finest white clothing. You yourself wore your white nightdress with a dark green cover up that Laszlo gifted you, it was slightly bigger in size so you’d use it though the whole pregnancy, your hair loosely braided.

The baby opened her mouth making a soft sound, she was calm and relaxed, to see her like this brought you an immense joy.

You heard steps approaching to the door, the house was empty since Stevie was with Laszlo and the cook you hired was in her quarters, you wouldn’t be worried if your husband wasn’t working on a case of abducted babies, but then you followed Laszlo’s common sense and listened instead of letting your mind worry. You listened to the steps coming one after the other, the weight of them, the pace.

You smiled to yourself as you guessed right, your husband appeared on the door frame and the shadow over his face disappeared for a moment meeting your standing figure with the baby. Since the case begun he refused to have any new staff in the house, he brought the bed of the baby in your bedroom, which wasn’t common back then, and every night sent Stevie to roam around the streets before going to bed to see if there was any obscure presence.

“My love” he said with a smile as he walked his way toward you undoing his jacket as you offered him a look of the falling asleep baby. His left hand gently caressing the little chest to feel the breathe of life in it. The baby blinked at him and smiled. Your baby girl was an early smiler, she smiled in her first month which just ripped off her father soul, tucked it in her little pocket and sold him forever. He was already ecstatic to be a father, only the announcement of your pregnancy got him wild, a mix of worry and tenderness always over him. The constant fear to be losing it. To lose what you brought to his life, not only his daughter but that happiness, the home feeling, the meaning to have something to come back to at night.

He loved you like a flower loves the water, he loved you more than metaphors can explain. He closed his eyes pressing his forehead against your temple, you rocked the baby gently in your arms as she relaxed, the sleep over her even if the presence of her father stirred her a bit.

“I am so worried for her” he murmured, he couldn’t cope with it anymore. The pressure to be following that case.

Sara told him to drop it, but he couldn’t. He owed it to Martha Napp, he owed him to his own child. To be in the case put his darling baby into the spotlight, but the best chance to solve it and avoid the menace of losing the apple of his eyes was to fight the crime from the inside.

And yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t get inside it.

He looked up and noticed your eyes on him, you detected the twist into his mind, the fear, the tremble of his intentions.

You kissed his cheek as his head was bowed slightly before slowly moving away to lean the baby into her cradle.

“Get comfortable” you urged him softly as he nodded to you undoing his jacket and his waist coat shrugging them off his shoulders as you adjusted the baby into her usual sleeping position, you pulled the covers over her caressing her head full of dark blonde hair like her father had as a child. You brushed them gently as she stirred and relaxed again, a soft sound coming from her mouth. She was well dressed, well fed and happy, you knew your child had all the possibilities in life to be the most charming and smartest woman of her times.

You moved the little veils on top of the crib to shield her from the dim lights of the room before pacing your way back to your husband.

Laszlo was sat on your shared bed. His eyes focused in the nothing in front of him. His waistcoat and jacket abandoned as he wore only his candid white shirt and dark pants.

You picked the hooked needle as you slowly bowed to your knees, he blinked surprised for a moment as you begun to undo his boots silently. You knew him, you gave him time to express himself. He was elaborating still, collecting ideas after a day spent talking back and forth with Sara.

“I saw the body” he said as you looked up.

“The body of Martha Napp’s baby” he added and you frowned, the poor woman, you couldn’t imagine yourself in her position. You’d probably be accused of murder too because you’d probably become feral if somebody touched your baby.

“Are you sure it is her baby?”

You knew he was sure, but the hope still fazed you.

“The child was poisoned, the deadly pallor was evident but Martha mentioned her child had an identifying contusion” he took a pause, he licked his lips as you could almost see him relieve the scene in his mind “A benign hemangioma under her left axilla”

He looked at you, to see the corpse of a baby, a baby that could be his, to find out a baby girl was abducted and this time in a well known residential area. The anxiety took over him. He was pestered by dark worries, images that saw you in a state of loss and disruption like the poor Señora Linares.

His eyes rested onto you, your calm firmness made him shake at times. His strong and aggressive demeanour might show him as the rock of the couple, but you are. You’re the one that can overcome things, that can see clearly when his mind is clouded.

“Might that child soul rest now with her mother, if you allow me I will take care of organising the burial along with the mother’s corpse as soon as the Isaacson’s have concluded their inspections on it”

He looked at you, a soft smile crept on him. Your thoughtful self always finding the cure to the pain. He saw the failure and you found the ultimate resolution. You could not join them in life, let it be in death.

You gave him a warm smile before finishing with both his boots and pulling them out, your hands slowly tracing his calves and ankles resting your chin on his knee to interject his eyes.

“Darling”

He blinked, he zoned out again and your voice called him back.

“I apologise” he only said

You stood up, his eyes lingering over your body for a moment. You healed like a true champion after the delivery, in few weeks you were back on your feet like nothing, in a month you were able to attend events. Your energy and vitality made you seem immortal to his eyes, which triggered his fears of loss even more.

Something so special, so strong like you, the idea to see you broken in any shape or form poisoned his soul and tortured his heart.

“Laszlo” once again, you called him back to reality as you sat beside him “you’re not thinking clearly”

He huffed softly, you were right.

“I can’t focus” he admitted finally taking your hand in his “I even upset the señora with my questions, enraged Sara, I feel like an headless chicken rushing around to find answers I can’t deal with. The scientific community protecting a butcher, John doing all he can at the newspaper and yet I am providing nothing to this investigation but background noise” he frowned deeply.

You could tell he was doing it for Martha and for you. He wanted to protect you and he tried to keep you far from all that darkness.

“Come” you said as you moved to your spot on the bed relaxing your legs as you adjusted some pillows behind your back “come on”

You hushed him and he obeyed quietly crawling on the bed, his frown still present. You hated to see him like that. Usually he was able to keep cases of study and worries outside of the bedroom, but this case was too personal.

You smiled at him as you undid the silly bow on your neck that kept the upper part of your night gown up. It was a maternity gown so to undo that little knot exposed the sensual curve of your breasts in a second. His eyes indulged over that little silky cloth twisted around your finger and the stars of little moles on your chest, he knew each of them by memory, he knew the scent of your perfume and the oils you use after bathing.

He looked up at you with a questioning look, he mindlessly run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip when you exposed your juicy breasts. He always had a thing for them, he was always enchanted by the feminine chest as the highest form of femininity, big or small, that sensual shape was the epitome of life, of the charms of Eve in the Garden of Eden, the Mother Earth personified into the sacred body of his wife.

His eyes darted up back at you, a silent question on him as you didn’t let his confusion overwhelm you, you fought it with calmness and temperance.

“I know only one way to calm a restless Kreizler”

Your words would have made him smile as your open arms weren’t such a charming offer. He run his tongue again over his upper lip this time, using his left arm as support he slowly slipped closer to you.

His face leaned to yours as you didn’t seem to have changed your mind.

Somebody else would have maybe found it repulsive, a man of simple and good heart like John would have felt that kind of attention misplaced.

But not him.

He lowered himself over your chest adjusting into a nice position as you used few extra pillows you had there to ensure him a comfortable stay. His nose gently brushed over the inside of your chest, his hot breath hitting over your skin as he looked up at you once more and once more a welcoming smile followed his gaze.

He leaned down once again, lips parted to gently capture your nipple among them. Your mouth gaping lightly as he sucked a bit too much at the beginning sending shivers down your spine but just like any child his sucking revealed his anxiety to be fed, his fear and his need of protection.

You wrapped one arm around him as with the other you brushed his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp to relax him, fingers combing his always well kept hair.

You watched his eyes flutter closed as you resumed your usual humming. It wasn’t a real lullaby, it was some of a rhythm you got stuck in your head.

“You’re here and I am here, our baby is safe from the world outside and nothing bad can happen” you narrated softly to him “you’re the most amazing man I have ever met, I know that the clarity of your thinking will come back. Just stop the world for a moment, it will all be back when the time comes right”

He hummed softly as you fell silent gently caressing him as you observed him lovingly, the fingers of his weak right hand toying with your braid. His beard hitching a bit in the beginning but you got soon used to it, you didn’t speak up anymore, you felt him relax more and more and you also did. This new kind of bond felt pleasurable and sweet, you felt to have reached a new kind of intimacy which is all you could hope for your marriage.

The time passed in silence, not a sound disturbing you until Laszlo’s relaxed body stretched lightly, the common knowledge telling you that the baby is fed.

He pulled back slowly before resting a kiss over your chest in a silent thank you.

He rested his head over your lap observing you like some Madonna staring at him with you gentle tenderness, not even Michelangelo could have grasped the beauty of your act or the absolute unfiltered love of your gaze.

“Was it pleasurable for you?”

He asked as you smiled gently caressing his cheek and his beard

“It was, you are really gentle” you answered. Another thing that you loved about your marriage was the unfiltered expression of feelings. You both looked for clarity through the eyes of your partner.

“Does it makes me your child?”

You smiled understandingly. This is your Laszlo, inquiring, curious, witty.

“No, no I don’t have a feeling that resemblance to breastfeed a child, it is more deep, more bound into my mind as an act of” you stopped thinking about it.

“Communion?”

He dared and you nodded as that was the right word.

“There’s a 1903 study, a German alienist suggested practicing erotic lactation as a way to deepen the relationship between husband and wife in a book called Die Offenbarung im Weibe, quite of a title I’d say, but he advised it as a good way to family plan, to give both the partners pleasure and he focused most of his studies over the idea of women’s sexual satisfaction being vital to the creation of an happy marriage.”

“It pleases me, I won’t deny it and it is a way that makes me feel you closer to me but in a more primal way, closer to the way sex works but with a different meaning”

He nodded as he toyed still with your brain slowly, a little fetish he just noticed in himself still doomed by the charm of unfiltered pure femininity.

Long hair, breasts, welcoming hips, all details that attracted him and drawn him toward you.

“There’s a study case, a man, a very wealthy one, he was obsessed with female hair. The smell, the composition, the touching” he paused as he toyed with yours among his fingers “He wouldn’t be able to suppress his desire, he confessed me his deepest fantasy was to have an orgasm while kissing the female hair and burying his head through them. It was peculiar but not harmful until he got himself a pocket knife, one of those not even good for a little pickpocketing but just as good to be able to cut some ladies’s hair in a crowd”

You kept caressing his hair yourself, probably moved also by the story, observing it and enjoying the texture.

“Do you think the killer of children needs to posses his fetish then?”

He nodded as you’re so smart.

“The possession is part of the final abdication of a person to their fetish, to be up to crime to own the desired being just proves the final commitment to the satisfaction of one’s desires” he explained to you and he paused now almost asking to himself “why would somebody steal a child then?”

You turned around looking at the crib where your baby girl rested.

“Because my crib is empty” you said and his eyes widened lightly.

“Tell me more, try to imagine it”

You frowned lightly as you moved your hands away from him, making distance, imagining the loneliness of empty arms, the excruciating pain of having a child and then not having it anymore.

“I need to give my love to my child” you said then taking a pause, your eyes staring to some unknown spot of the room “and if my child is not there, I will make sure that there will be”

Laszlo sat up as he stared at you.

“But that child won’t resemble you, your child was special and peculiar in its own way, this child grows up, changes, blabbers words while yours didn’t”

He pushed this image in you as you came to the only reasonable deduction you’d do if you were in such a state

“Then that is not my child” you said only “my child is somewhere else and this one is an impostor”

Laszlo nodded “So you get rid of it as soon as the reality outgrows the fantasy”

He concluded.

You looked at him as he stared back at you, a woman, the killer must be a woman that lost a child or got it taken away from her. She finds surrogates and dismisses them, she probably never saw her baby grow so they can’t grow.

“What would I do without you?”

You smiled at his words “you’d be completely lost, we both know about it” you said kissing his lips having a taste of your own medicine “now get into your night clothing, you’ll see Sara tomorrow to give her this new perspective.”

He smiled, not even a trace of the worried and confused Laszlo that stepped I the room before. He was back to his senses, his mind active, he could see with clarity.

- - - - - - -

The case unveiled itself, proof after proof, run after run, document after document he came to the solution.

He was proud, you and the baby were safe and now he could go back to the everyday.

“I don’t see the point Laszlo, you have proved yourself enough against him” John said as he stared up at his annoyed features s you served him some more tea.

John looked at you like why are you not stopping him but you just smiled it off relaxing in the loveseat beside your husband as John shook his shoulders like an annoyed bird.

“A man like Dr Markoe after all he did holding a public lecture with the anguishing title of Murder, Madness and Motherhood?” Laszlo snapped back at John “please, the least I can do is to humiliate him in front of the whole academic arena”

Laszlo leaned back smiling at his friend like he was just a poor fool.

“He will again fight on you, you know he always picks up on you for treating mostly children and being part of the investigation, you get heated with him and you lose your control”

John seemed only to know reasons to get Laszlo to desist, you understood him from your part, your husband was a fiery character and he hardly forgive people with quick and poor judgements. You also noticed he became way more aggressive toward Markoe since before the case, he always depicted pregnant women as prone to lose control, foolish and behaving like animals that had to be kept on a tight leash, it all in particular when you were expecting.

John’s tsunami of words couldn’t be stopped he had a reason not to do anything but your attention was quickly taken away by the soft touch of Laszlo’s hand on your side, just above the hem of your corset, his thumb tracing the side of your boob giving you a shiver as you already knew perfectly what he was demanding.

You could now tell that John actually made him feel unsure or at least unsettled him, he needed comfort and energies to face his enemy now.

Sara groaned making herself heard for the first time, she noticed his gesture and found it actually cute as she could never wish Laszlo with somebody more perfected than you. Your calmness matched his fiery nature, you talked when he needed to think, you smiled when he couldn’t. You allowed him to be more himself than he had ever been.

“Let’s go John, you’re being so obnoxious, at what time we will see the butchery of the doctor?”

You quickly answered to her giving her a gentle smile as she put John to silence.

She asked as she stood up and John groaned following her “See you there” John said still saying how useless it was to still go after that man.

Laszlo stood up escorting them to the exit and then coming back to the living room. You sat there like he left you, he would close the door behind his back locking it before crossing the room with long steps and close the curtains letting the darkness wrap around you. Your fingers slowly undoing your shirt as his shape takes again form in front of you as he turns on one lamp in the corner of the room before moving closer to you again, eyes shining even in the obscurity as his fingers finally meet with your skin once you undid the first knots on your corset.

“Give me life” he would plead to you before lacing his lips your nipple once more.

You knew from the first suck on your nipple how Markoe held no chance on today’s debate.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

[lilith-of-rivia]

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary: Ina of Cintra the Lioness's firstborn daughter has been a well-kept secret. her title as princess never leaving the castle walls, her abilities, abnormalities not being uttered without the blessing of the queen. She has her entire life planned and guided so she doesn't break the Crown's rules. She has been an outstanding model of good behavior, that's until she meets a certain witcher.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Blood and gore, swearing, mentions of death

I

“Ma’am…” Knock, knock, knock. I had heard whoever it was coming to wake me up before they even got to my door.

“Yes?” I heard them hold their breath, they weren’t expecting me to be awake.

“Uh-uh yes ma’am, Druk is outside. He has sent for you.”

“Yes thank you. I’m awake.” I said as I rose from my bed. Folding at the hips my fingers gazed at the floor as I yawned in a stretch. My spins cracked along with my shoulders.

“Yes of course ma’am” There were no footsteps and the heartbeat was still there outside the door.

“You may leave now.”

“Right right, yes ma’am.” Scurried light footsteps filled the empty hall as they left.

With a heavy sigh, I contemplated the day I had ahead of myself. Mornings with Druk were never different. The day was was one full day of drills, day two was one different full day of drills than to day three, four, five, then repeat next week. Druk wasn’t like other witchers I had met. He wasn’t focused on the coin or glory. Maybe it’s because he saw his brothers and mentors be slaughtered when his Keep fell.

“Knock knock.” My eyes snapped to the door of my room, dragging attention away from the gauntlet on my. My mother stood at the door. She was still in her sleep clothes, a wool robe hugged her body as she smiled softly at me from the door.

“Morning mother,” I said looking back at my gauntlet, huffing in frustration as I struggled to get them tied.

Wordlessly my mother walked across the room, grabbing my arm as she sat in the chair across from the one I was in. her fingers delicately tied the strings tightly, the gauntlets tightening around my wrists. Once finished, she softly held one of my hands, her face was cold, stoic as always. But once she looked me in the eyes I saw the fear.

“You know, don’t you…” I nodded my head. Looking out the window of my room, breaking eye contact. I stood up walking from her to the armored cabinet in my room. I grabbed my two swords from their hooks looking over them and assessing their sharpness.

“I heard you and the court talking last night. Many in this castle forget I have super hearing.” I heard her sigh heavily, shakily.

“I’m so sorry, Ina…” I turned to her. Her gaze was on the floor, her chest rising and falling fast.

“Mum...don’t cry…” I crouched down by her side, my hands going to hers squeezing them. She looked back at me, one hand cupping my face. Her thumb softly brushed over the scar on my left cheek.

“I’m so sorry I brought you into this world...Into this life...I wish I had known your life would be so painful…” I leaned into her warm hand, my eyes closing as she spoke.

“Stop blaming yourself...everything happens for a reason...and no matter what happens after the meeting today...I will always love you.” Her hand moved from my face to my neck. She pulled me into her chest, hugging me tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” Hse sobbed into my hair, rocking us back and forth. I said nothing, just kept my arms around her, holding her while she sobbed. Her tears wetting the spot she laid on my shoulder.

“Don’t be…”

II

“You know princess, I do not normally wait. You are lucky the gold and wine your mother gives is so good.” Druk’s voice was below a whisper as we snuck through the damp dark woods. My hands felt the tree bark under us as we slowly tipped around the fallen trees, as to make as little noise as possible. Funny with Druk’s big mouth.

“My mother is very worried about the meeting tonight,” I whispered back, following him as he weaved in and around the thickly wooded forest. We were hot on the trails of a stray kikimore that had been terrorizing a southern village. Druk and I were sent to take care of it.

“Are you worried?” Druk asked, pausing to look back at me.

I stopped too for a moment, thinking about his question.

My eyes searched the forest around us while we sat in silence. The forest was no longer lush and green. Late Saovine meant the world was cold, covered in ice and snow. Nothing was awake. All the animals were in hibernation, birds had flown south for the winter. The only things still awake were the monsters.

“No. I’m not. Should I be?” Druk looks away from me, his amber eyes searching the forest around us.

“Tonight is the night a pannel of witchers, mages, and the royal court you belong to decide if you go through the trials...maybe a little of fear. It would be healthy.” I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Fear isn’t necessary for my vocabulary.” Druk laughed softly, his head nodding as he looked me in the eyes again.

“Then don’t be afraid. Fuck em all. If any woman could survive the trials it’s you.” Once finished with his small sentiment, a cheesy grin spread across his face. He nodded his head in the direction of the kikimore and we both rook off after it again.

Our feet lept, ran, jumped, and sprinted across the fallen trees and rocks throughout the forest. The snow-covered ground would cause too much noise. Druk had gone to the Witcher school of the cat. He prides himself on his ability to remain stealthy and quiet, all while being just as lethal as witchers from other schools. He taught me to only put my feet on the ground when it really mattered. You’re much easier to be tracked and killed when you travel foot to the ground. But foot to a tree to rock is a different story.

Jumping from a rock onto a tree we scaled the side till we were above the tree line. Out heads stuck up and out of the dead branches. Our chests rising and falling heavily as we looked around, noses sniffing out the location of the kikimore. The high point giving us the advantage. Druk’s yellow eyes scanned the trees below while I sniffed the wind. He had better eyes than I. his mutations to thank for that. The wind blew softly and the thick smell of iron and rotting corpses seeped into my nostrils and filled my head.

“To the east,” I said quietly. Druk adjusted his direction eyes grazing the land elbow us. A small smirk graced his lips, he found it.

“It about four hundred yards northeast. Common princess no time to waste.” We quickly scaled our way down the tree till our feet were steady on the branches. He wasn’t wrong, we were already out way longer than we were intending. Meaning we were going to be late for the meeting.

Druk took the lead. His hand holding the hilt of his silver swords. His other hand out in front of him, his fingers gleaming with a soft blue tint. Aard was spoken in elder inaudible to the average human. He was prepared to blast the kikemore to give me more time to ambush it. Druk only ever took the lead, then he’d stand back and watch. He’d teach me a new skill by charging whatever beast. Whether it was a new sign manipulation, a new combat skill, or hell even how he wields his sword. He started, I’d then follow and clean up.

“Ready Ina?” There was a soft pop and a cork fell onto the ground below us with a soft thud. His head fell back the liquid pouring down his throat. He grimaced slightly before turning to me, his eyes were black as night, now white to be seen. The veins on his neck, face, and hands were dark black and bulging. The potion was vital for witchers, giving them heightened senses, and skills. Allowing their powers to increase.

“So fucking ready,” I said, a smile gracing my lips. He returned the smile, his more sinister with the help of his eyes.

My sword was in hand. The silver catching the few rays of sun peeking through the clouds above. We both moved silently through the brush. Out feet feather-light against the snow. We moved fast, never keeping pressure on one spot too long to not break the crust of the snow. Druk made it to the clearing first. The Kikimore was alerted to us as soon as we reached its small nest.

Druk’s hand thrust out in front of himself, a huge ball of blue light smacked into the kikimore, throwing it back and hard into the tree. Druk sheathed his sword and ducked behind me. The kikimore shook its head before it made eye contact with me. I crouched lower to the ground, eyeing the beast. It slowly started to move to its left, so I mimicked it. We slowly began circling one another. The Kikimore’s large gray limbs stabbed into the ground with every step. Its gross snarly face, red beady eyes looking me over, studying my every move. The only issue was I knew where and how it would be.

The kikimore pounced, its legs kicking up dirt as it tore after me. The short distance between us was gone in no time. I lunged out of the way. Diving and rolling away from the clumsy beast. I was much smaller, giving me an advantage.

“My my what an ugly fucker you are.” I mocked. The beast turned to me again, and let out a low grumbly growl. I was moving closer to its nest. I could smell the rotting bodies even worse as I moved slowly. My eyes never leaving the kikimore.

It charged again. I slashed my sword through the air, spinning around, splicing my sword up in the air. The kikimore squealed and screamed as its leg fell from its body. Spinning on my heels my sword slashed through the air again, making contact with its neck. The sword slashed through the beast’s thick, fat neck like butter. The screams stopped, the kikimore’s body falling limp on the ground, blood-spewing, and pooling on the ground and around my boots. I sighed heavily, a smile gracing my lips again as I whipped the dark black blood from my blade before sliding back into its sheath on my back.

Clap, clap, clap. “Very well done princess!! A full-grown warrior kikimore down in two strikes, no potions or magic!” Druk had a smile ear to ear, his potion still in effect. Seeing a laughing, happy smiling witcher with pure black eyes was a sight to see.

“Only as good as my mentor my dear friend,” I said with a laugh. Crouching to the ground, my hand gathering the small tuft of hair atop the kikimore’s head and lifted it so it was eye level with me. Blood dripped from its mouth, nose, and eyes. Its dark purple tongue hung out of its mangled mouth.

“Add another one to my list.”

III

“Common hurry Druk!!” I yelled through the rain as we ran up the cobblestone road towards the castle. The kikimore’s head swung over my shoulder. “We are already late they will have my head!!” Druk ran from the stables after me, quickly catching up with me right as I neared the doors.

The two guards opened them for us as we walked through. I breathed heavily, my lips blue as my teeth chattered. Despite my many abnormal traits I still got just as cold as the average human. The rain had come out of nowhere. The two of us speed walk down the corridor, our muddy boots squeaking against the marble floors as we got closer to the royal library. A place I’d only ever been when I was being threatened by the crown’s court. The doors appeared ahead of us as we both halted before we could be close enough to be heard. The floor below us was wet as we dripped head to toe.

Glancing at Druk I gulped, now that I was about to walk into the room, I was more than terrified. The prospect of the trials was so much closer than they had ever been my entire life. Druks hand went to my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve got this.” He whispered, before giving me a soft push towards the door. I took a deep breath before shoving the door open, swallowing the fear and placing the stoic look of my mother back on my face.

The voices in the room stopped when I walked in. my boots stopping heavily on the floor. My eyes glanced around the room, everyone there were people I have known for many years. My mother stood in the center of the room by her throne, my sister who was not supposed to be here was next to her. They looked scared.

“Sorry, I’m late, had a prior arrangement.” I heaved the beast’s head over my shoulder and threw it on the floor. It flopped down and rolled a little its tongue falling out as its cold dead eyes stared up at Gadri, a member of the Crowns Court. His face scrunched in disgusts before he kicked it away from his shoes.

“You are nearly three hours late, Ina.” I rolled my eyes my attention going back to my mother and sister.

“What is she doing here?” I asked pointing to my sister.

“We think it’s important that the future queen gets to help make choices regarding her subjects.” Hazzez, a plump fat little man with a bald shiny head and large white mustache and beard said standing from his seat.

I huffed, the corner of my lip pulling into a sly smirk as I shook my head. Water falling on the floor.

“Yes, the future queen who passes her sister even tho her sister is the senior. Yes, and my sister needs to be in control of whether I will be subjected to the trials and if I’ll die or not.” Druks witcher attitude tended to rub off on me. Witchers are trained, to be honest, overly honest. Blunt and rude is what many present them as.

“Ina. enough.” my mother said sternly, her jaw tightening. I bite my tongue nodding my head. My fingers pulled at the buttons of my jacket, throwing it on the floor in a wet pile. The room was cold, making the wet clothes on my body send shivers down my spine.

I glanced around the room, eyeing the other members of the Crown’s Court. And then the other few people who were in the room. Tissaia, a mage from Aretuza smiled at me fondly as we made eye contact.

“Hello, princess, my how you’ve grown.” Her voice filled the empty room. I smiled back at her.

“Tissaia-” I bowed my head to her softly, “yes, it’s been a while hasn’t it? What 15 years?”

“17 years.” my mother chimed in behind me.

“Whos the mystery man next to you?” I asked her, she glanced over at the witcher who was perched next to her. Druk was seated next to him.

“Well get to that in a second. Please sit down.” Hazzez said, gesturing to a lone isolated chare in the middle of the room.

It was as if I was on trial, for simply being born.

IV

“Druk how has she been doing?” My mother asked, her eyes glaring daggers at the five men who were attempting to discredit the years of work and training I had done with Druk.

Durk rose from his seat next to the other witcher, a bored look on his face. “She is exceptional. Not only her physical talents in combat and swords but her book knowledge. I’ve trained three other witchers before her, and none of them come close to the skills she posses. She is a skilled alchemist, a skilled swordsman, she is skilled in nearly every talent she tries. I would trust her in a battle to have my back any day. It has been an honor training her for 15 years, your highness.” I smiled at him, a smirk covering his lips.

“With all due respect your highness we are not interested in what the witcher from a failed school has to say. The witcher to his right has been watching her and keeping track of her success. That’s who we care about.”

Before the witcher could address them, Tissaia stood up. “What is the problem here gentlemen. On her fifth birthday, you all made this a rule. You said her abnormalities would only ever benefit her if she was trained as an assassin or a witcher. She has been trained for 17 years by a witcher, as a witcher. She has proven time and time again she doesn’t need the trials and mutations to be as skilled as a witcher.”

“Thank you, Tissaia, but need I remind you that you are only here to as a stand-in for the mage in your court who can still perform the mutations. Please sit down and be quiet.” My mother shot Tissaia a look, making her shut her mouth and sit down. The witcher next to Druk stood up.

“I have been following her and her trainer. For months now. Even just today I followed them while they killed the stray Kikimore. She killed the Kikimore with two strikes something many of my boys have struggled with as fully mutated and trained witchers. She without a doubt has a talent and a heart of the witcher.” I heard my mother’s breath catch in her throat as she held my sister’s hand. My sister was stating at me, had been since I sat down. Her face was painfully still, her throat tight as she breathed heavily. She looked scared, so did my mother.

“Tissaia, you will take Ina to Kear Morhen. Along with the mages in your court. The mutations will be done by the end of the week.” My throat ran dry. Hazzez kept talking but my brain tuned him out. None of us thought they would go through with this. The chances of me surviving the trials and the mutations were nearly impossible. Less than 20% of the boys who face the trials died. And the mutations are designed for male genetics, not females. I was never supposed to be mutated, just trained.

“Hazzez you piece of shit!!” My mother screamed as she stood from her chair. Her hand reached for the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh.

Her hand came down quickly with the shinny dagger, flying towards Hazzez face. My hands quickly caught her arms and I pushed her back. Knowing if she killed one of her court members over me I would surely be sent away and killed, no chance of survival.

“Mother mother please stop it please,” I screamed into her red, tear-stained face as she attempted to fight me off. Her chest rose and fell heavily. She hissed through her gritted teeth, she was probably breaking teeth.

“Queen Calanthe-” Hazzez spoke. I turned to look at him, my back to my mother. Her dagger is in my hand. I threw it to the floor, kicking it away. “Do not forget the sympathy the crown, and your father gave you for your bastard daughter. She should have been killed out of the womb. But your father cared too much for you. Count your blessing that you got 20 years with her, and at least she will die with a little bit of dignity.” Hazzez stood up to leave, the four men ready to follow him, they gathered their belongings.

“Gentlemen.” My mother said, her voice harsh and cold like the wind outside. Her brows set in a low glair as she looked them up and down. “I am still your queen, you do not get to control everything. It’s clear you’ve made your choice, but when it happens. That is my choice. She is my daughter. I choose when she goes with the witcher. I do not know when that will be but it will be after her sister’s betrothal. If you have an issue with that, find a new court to control.” the five men looked at her, then each other before nodding and walking out of the room silently.

My mother’s hands held my arms as she dragged me into her chest. My sister came up to us both, her hands wrapping around both my mother and me I. her head resting on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her and one around my mother, I let my fear fall. My fear came out in silent sobs. My shoulders shook, my eyes clouding as I stared at the wall behind my sister. The tears pooled down my face.

My mother pulled back, one hand on each of my cheeks, her fingers brushing my tears away.

“You will be the first female witcher to ever be. You will make history.” my shoulders started to shake more violently as I cried more. The impending end of my life is on the horizon. My mother’s denial was just to help her cope, but we both knew how it would end.

“Mum...we both know what will happen to me...I won’t survive it.” my voice was broken as I spoke caving as I cried. Her fingers moved faster to wipe my tears as she shushed me. My sister’s hands are on my arms and back.

“Even if that’s the case, it won’t be for at least another month. Live your life for the next month the way you want to, no regrets,-”

“No hesitations.” I interrupted her, a small smile tugging at my lips. Her eyes softened at me. She leaned in placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

“You can do this Ina. You are the Lioness Cub. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Little did you know - Kaz Brekker/platonic! Crows x fem! reader

A/n: I don't know where this came from... It's a mess but its like- whatever I guess

Warnings: GORE, DEATH, TORTURE, questionable sanity, this could be disturbing to some people so don't say I didn't warn you!

I do not own six of crows or shadow and bone or it's characters

Summary: The Crows make a vital mistake when trying to get information not knowing that it would cost them everything...

(Gif not mine)

Her hair flows in the wind the only part of her moving the rest still as a serpent creeping up on its prey. Slowly, she starts to move forward as she spots her victims, some pretty little birdy's, just some unusually remarkable crows. If anything went right today the only thing that would be remarkable about them would be their downfall.

She almost yells out in excitement and joy when they wander right into her trap. They walk into her house - a dead merchant's house and go to loot what's left of it.

From her vantage point in the ceiling, she can see everything, from Nina's hands out ready to Matthias beside her. She sees Jesper's darting eyes and Wylan's uneasiness. Moreover, she can even see Inej Ghafa in the shadows high on alert ready to strike at any moment, just in case.

Then her eyes find Kaz and she almost kills him there and then.

He's in his normal attire and he hadn't changed his atrocious haircut either. Yet he's different still, it's the way he's holding himself. Like he feels accomplished.

And even though he has his neutral 'I'm bored' face on Y/n can see through him. She's always been able too and right now he's happy for an easy run. Not a trace of him is guilty or mourning and it's only been one week.

Now that she thinks about it there's not a trace of mourning in anyone.

Balling her hands into fits she nearly screams in agony, they thought she had died and they didn't even care. If she had any doubts before they're gone with just some simple observation.

Yet Y/n still waits and as soon as the Crows get into the trap completely she starts moving.

They had killed her loving parents who worked at a bakery, they had done nothing, nothing wrong. But now they were still six feet under, and she knew it was not just some casualties. Kaz was too precise for that.

She creeps up behind Inej and knocks her out cold before she can even cry out, Y/n catches her body before it can hit the floor and she carefully lays Inej to the said knowing she'll have to tie her up later.

Next is Jesper and Wylan.

For Jesper, she shoots him with a sleeping dart made out of a massively hard metal to control for fabricators and blinds Wylan before doing the same thing to him as well.

Taking out a bomb from Wylan's bag she sets it off. Running towards Nina and before she can use her heartrender abilities, Y/n headbutts her causing her figure to fall to the floor. Unconscious.

Matthias starts sprinting towards her but she simply grabs his shoulder and hits him on a pressure point on his neck and he's out with the rest of them.

It's funny because he taught her that manoeuvre.

"Kaz!" She yells in a shrill voice beckoning him downstairs, did he really leave his little itty bitty Crows alone? Ah, just like he did to her, what they all did to her.

The Crows and Y/n were on a mission and something went wrong, she was shot and they left her to die. She could have been easily saved but they left her and while they did that she remembers - the thing that she remembers most about that night. Kaz leaned down into her ear and said;

'Thanks for the information little snake.'

They had used her to get information, everything she had with them was fake. Everything with Kaz was fake. Every little touch, every little moment, their entire (established) relationship was fake.

"Come down Kazzy I helped you! Now you help me!" She runs up the stairs knowing that there's only one exit, the window. That was extremely high off the ground he would hopefully try to bargain with her first.

Even if he didn't Y/n had brought some rope because he would definitely break his legs at that height.

But Y/n wasn't a little snake now she was a majestic serpent that wielded the screeches of revenge in her venom.

She runs into the room with the window and there he was there in a chair in the shadows looking smug, but the serpent knew it was all just a facade - fake confidence.

Smiling at him she pulls out a second chair from a broken-down desk and places it right in front of him. 'Bang.' It's a simple sound but it echos throughout the room bouncing off the walls into the depths of madness.

"Oh Kazzy, have you come to help me?" She takes her lip in between her teeth and fake trembles.

"Have you come to save me?" Her voice is tiny and it's nothing like it used to be around him, yet he still flinches. He knows she's putting on an act but it still hurts him. And she wants to hurt him over, and over again.

"Y/n... We needed that information, lots of the Dregs' lives were on the line. There is so much more you wouldn't don't understand."

Laughing into the open she secretly pulls out a syringe from her back pocket readying it in her hand.

Instantly her voice changes from the scarce poor girl's voice to a very dark voice. Vengeance was held there and it was like burning your ears in the pits of hell listening to it. The sins and revenge sounded melodic but the torture that laid underneath was horrific.

"Really Rietveld? Did you think I would forgive so easily?"

Kaz's face morphs into surprise at hearing his real last name, Y/n jumps at the chance and she plunges the syringe deep into his neck.

"See you in hell."

___________________TIME SKIP A COUPLE OF HOURS__

All the Crows are tied up to some chairs in the secret basement of the house. The woman waits for what looks like patiently but really she's boiling with excitement.

This is going to be fun.

Finally, the last Crows wakes up and the Serpent takes out her playthings. Just a couple of knives and guns, but those were just her toys the real weapons are the emotional and mental pain she would cause everyone including herself.

"You know why you are here, don't you?" She walks around the room watching every one of The Crows' snarling faces but perhaps some of them held remorse.

Although Y/n was past their pity now. None of the damage could be undone, what's done is done. An eye for an eye.

"Nina darling, this may hurt a bit." Quicker than Jesper's sharpshooter's eye could catch she stabs Nina in the stomach as she yells out in pain Y/n twists the knife back and forth.

Matthias screams out for his lover and after what feels like an internity the serpent pulls the dagger out knowing that she'll just eventually die from blood loss.

Taking a quick look around the room she notices some of the terrified faces and how everyone is on edge. Good, just how she wants it.

"Mörd demjin," Matthias mutters under his breath and Y/n takes his throat in her hand and holds tight enough to choke him.

"Don't call me by the little nickname you gave Kazzy!" She yells furiously holding onto him tighter and tighter. His face starts to become purple and she can hear the yells and screams of the birdy's in the background.

'No! Let go! Matthias! Matthias! Let him go!'

"Any last words?" She jets out her lip before holding onto him tighter and she sees the fury of the ice in his eyes before there's nothing. His eyes roll back lifeless.

"No Matthias! Matthias!" Nina shrieks trying to desperately get out of her chair.

Rolling her eyes with a huff Y/n pulls out a gun and shoots Nina twice in the head.

"Now you're with your lover." She drawls on the word lover and turns to Inej. She didn't really want to do this but she had to cause him all the pain that she could. Even if Inej tried to stop them.

Swiftly she pulls out the knife Inej gave her and kindly kills her with a hard blow to the heart. She doesn't suffer, she just solely died, it's the only kindness the Serpent can afford to give her.

At this point, Jesper and Wylan are openly sobbing and screaming for their friends and for Y/n to please stop. But she doesn't, with blood all over her clothes she makes her path towards her next fool.

"If you were wondering why you couldn't control the bullets, Jesper." She drawls on in a monotone voice. She can see and hear Wylan screaming and it pains her but she doesn't let it show. She lets the Serpent take over or else this will never get done.

Fully becoming the Serpent Y/n places the barrel of her gun up to his heart and she just shoots, no emotion on her face whatsoever.

"A special venom of mine for Grisha. Had some fun testing it."

Going over to Wylan she quickly slits his throat not wanting the little merchling to suffer more than he already has.

She looks at Kaz blankly, he's shaking and he's beyond trying not to show any emotion. Tears are streaming down his face and he's gasping for air. Trembles roll off his body and the agony on his face pierces her hurt.

"Why?" Rietveld finally manages to rasp out. "WHY!" He screams ultimately reaching his breaking point.

"Because Kaz," She whispers in a sickeningly sweet voice lifting his chin with the tip of her pointer finger.

"Everything comes with a price." She pauses letting it sink in.

"And little did you know the price it would cost you."

And that's the story of Sankta Serpentina and Sankt Dirtyhands.

Words 1634

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover

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[palbabor-writes]

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst  

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu​, @kogo​ & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is. 

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.   

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.” 

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use. 

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.” 

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.” 

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you. 

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up. 

There’s no way. 

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??” 

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns. 

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about. 

What a jerk. 

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand. 

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile. 

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district. 

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you. 

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression. 

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone. 

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs. 

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression. 

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!” 

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not. 

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. 

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst. 

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again. 

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over. 

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.” 

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.” 

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips. 

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart. 

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze. 

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained. 

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity. 

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?” 

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk. 

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.” 

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away. 

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

 “The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–” 

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”  

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you. 

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo. 

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull. 

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling. 

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you? 

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body. 

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him. 

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence. 

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue. 

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip. 

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…” 

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms. 

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin. 

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.  

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath. 

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots. 

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement. 

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined. 

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him. 

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally. 

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now. 

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier. 

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…” 

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning. 

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him. 

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room. 

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses. 

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.” 

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck. 

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect. 

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged. 

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.  

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?” 

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!” 

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you. 

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you. 

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him. 

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin. 

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants. 

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites. 

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.” 

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.  

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him. 

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.” 

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls. 

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher. 

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm. 

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat. 

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips. 

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’” 

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands. 

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze. 

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you. 

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…” 

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you. 

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder. 

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach. 

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud. 

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air. 

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets. 

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body. 

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you. 

That change is all it takes. 

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break. 

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals. 

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom. 

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties. 

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?” 

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form. 

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c