#hes not doing it to be dangerous he just likes hanging out

[justplainlovely]

@northwest-cryptid’s explanation is great, but I have some experience I’d like to add as well as a plea for any men on the left

From 2016 to 2019, I got a tad lost in libertarian/right adjacent spaces. I truly believe the only things that stopped me from going further were sexism and racism from others.

I had a “come to Jesus” moment around early 2018 when I went from “Trump is just an idiot” to “Trump is a dangerous dummy who emboldens the worst aspects of masculinity and, especially, white masculinity”.

For various reasons, I have little problem admitting I am wrong and fixing that when I am. But in late 2017, when I started engaging in what I can now label derad work, I found that a lot of men in those spaces had completely different attitudes towards change. I spent a lot of time talking with these guys. I even invited a couple of them into my bed which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t a great idea. Lonely people make stupid decisions and whatnot.

Anyway, when talking to some of these individuals and trying to get them to see the world through my “female eyes”, they had a tendency to reject my stories; every moment I was SA’ed, every catcalling story, every time a man brushed past me, every time a man treated me like less than a person (especially moments that could be excused as “but he didn’t know better”) was invalidated.

No matter how much or how often I told these men my story, comforted them when they told me theirs, and been there for them when they needed company, the lack of respect was still palpable. I was 17-22 back then. Maybe it has something to do with my age, but in truth, I know it had much more to do with my sex.

American men have a problem that only American men can solve. And that is they don’t respect women as full beings. That doesn’t mean they hate women outright. It’s just the kind of patronization that leads to weird attitudes like “women are like children and should be preserved”. It’s the kind of attitude that leads to men, whether they observe it or not, treating women like property.

And all that said, my main call to action is for left wing and centrist men. You guys have a lot of work to do. So do I, as a white-passing woman (white women broke 53% for Trump, if I’m not mistaken). Based on my experience, men will not accept help from women when they see us as beneath them. A lot of men entering alt-right spaces, whether or not they realize it, do believe in that hierarchy and for that reason it is crucial that centrist and left men engage in the hard work of deradicalization.

Got any buddies that are getting a little too weird? Talk to them. Ask them what’s going on. See what they need. Do this before it’s too late and they become a “Q-er”. Your isolation is precisely the power the alt-right weaponizes.

“Your buddies may have left you, but we don’t care what you believe. There’s many more of us. Come hang out!”

It’s that and more, so please. I’m begging you. Do ANYTHING you can.

the idea that reactionary spaces are attractive to men because they treat them kindly unlike The Left is so odd because whenever I come across that content it's essentially the same dynamic as pro ana "meanspo". if you don't know what that is, it's "motivation" based on degrading the viewer to the point where they can't "make excuses" and not become anorexic, or in this case a true Alpha Male. I feel like thisis objectively worse for someone's mental health than The Left

[curtins]

SOLDIER, POET, KING — toji, suguru, satoru minors dni!

prologue. → medieval...bardcore...need i say more? thou art going back to middle earth with this one folks 😁

pairing. warrior!toji fushiguro x afab!reader / court advisor!suguru geto x afab!reader / emperor!gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. toji takes thee against a tree, geto's a munch, gojo's just kinda needy. doing it outdoors, getting eaten good on a lot of cushions, giving a massage?

word count. 4.5k song inspiration. soldier, poet, king — the oh hellos

a/n. listened to the bardcore cover of shakira's hips dont lie while writing. toji's is short tho idk why dont @ me

mp3. he will tear your city down (soldier) / he will slay you with his tongue (poet) / smeared with oil like david's boy (king)

TOJI FUSHIGURO — there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword.

you're not sure what initially possessed you to follow him into the dense woods outside the encampment, but you sure as hell don't regret it now, not with the rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, grounding you as one of toji's large hands find their home on the back of your neck. the light pressure has you entirely dizzy, but that could also be attributed to the rough drag of his thick cock against your inner walls, slam!

over and over, at a giddying pace that sends shivers down your spine, and stars dancing across your eyes. the scent of pine, earth, and your own dripping arousal fills the air, and you groan as you taste the saltiness of the warrior's skin and the sweetness of his tongue, stained from the ginger confections that soldiers usually shared around the camp to invigorate them through the long nights.

his lips are demanding, fiery even as they push harder against your own, and you shudder as you feel the scrape of a thin scar against your cheek as the world fades away.

the only sound being your quivering breath, and the filthy smack! of his pelvis against your legs, which have been unceremoniously spread against the tree, riding your skirts up and if toji were to step away, and leave you there, all would see the silver, glassy sheen that dripped from your puffy folds.

but you pull him closer, wrapping your own shaking arms around his broad shoulders, as you mewl for him to keep going.

"there! ah! it's so - so deep, toji!" you try to contain your voice to a whisper, desparately praying that his comrades nearby aren't alerted to the lewd sounds erupting from the two of you.

but he looks merely pleased, dangerous like this, and his green eyes are hazed over with lust, the feeling of your tight cunt felling such a powerful and feared commander, "yeah, shit - deeper then?"

and he's angling himself closer to you, so his fat, bulbous tip must be kissing your most sensitive spot, the rough, spongy patch that makes you squeal and sigh, and cry out as you thread your fingers through his choppy dark hair.

"hope you can keep up, fuck!" and toji fushiguro's eyes are gleaming, "i can go till dawn."

didn't the sun set not a mere hour ago?

SUGURU GETO— there will come a poet who's weapon is his word

suguru geto's name is woven into every conversation at court, from the grand feasts to the courtyards where soldiers train. his silver tongue is one of legend, so sharp that it can cut through the thickest of political games, twisting even the most steadfast men and women into submission.

it had been hard not to ignore the sheer gravity of his presence, tall with dark eyes like pools of liquid twilight, and raven hair that's fallen haphazardly out of his topknot as he had led you into his chambers, "i know you've been listening to the rumours, people say many things about me," and his pink lips curl up, "but none can truly capture the beauty of my work."

your tone is breathy under his touch, "and what exactly is your work, geto?"

he's laid you back against the plush cushions of the divan, where tapestries (worth a king's ransom) hang over the walls, and his lips are now ghosting over your neck, "call me suguru," and there he presses soft, shallow kisses, "the court is full of pawns, but it is my job to make them kings."

it's hard not to tremble when his lips are travelling further down, scattering marks over your collarbones, "and me?"

his eyes are now locked with yours, and the world around you seems to slow, "you, an esteemed lady of the court? i could make you a queen."

you can smell the faint scent of sandalwood mingling with the scent of your own heady ache, and it makes your heart race. his lips are teasing, gentle and intoxicating like a fine wine that leaves you craving more, as you let your hands travel under his dark robes and over smooth skin.

gradually, his kisses travel down, moving from your collarbone to the shadow between your breasts, courtesy of his hands making quick work of your gown, then trailing along your stomach, each kiss igniting a trail of warmth that leaves a hot syrup pooling between your legs.

"hngh - lower, suguru! keep going!" and you angle yourself so your legs are spread wide and he can slot his broad frame right between them, right where you need him.

but he is not one to be direct, ever, and he gives you a teasing smile as he ghosts his fingers across silk-sodden undergarments, "lower?" and now he's pressing the pads of his fingers across the fabric, leaving lightning shocks in their wake, "lower, like here?"

and his fingers have found home, drawing figure-eights over your throbbing bud as you arch your back up, "yes, fuck, right there!"

you're given not a second or more to breathe, or choose your next course of action before suguru geto is tearing the offending garments off, and away, tossing them far from the divan as you gape incredulously.

silvertongue. the mere epithet does not do justice to how his mouth is laving hot kisses at your core, where the tip of his tongue is prodding at your fluttering entrance, and up over your puffy clit, before hollowing out his cheeks to suck.

GOJO SATORU — there will come a ruler who's brow is laid with thorn

the throne room is vast like a frost-kissed sky, and it stretches beyond what the human eye can comprehend. and the floor beneath your silk slippers is a pale marble sheen, icy and smooth as each step of yours echoes softly, swallowed by the immense space around you, as if the room is holding its breath.

there's a slight smirk curling at the corners of the emperor's lips, his pale hair falling softly around his face like the cool winds of winter that he commands — as he lounges back on the throne carved from white stone that is so pure, it gleams like ice.

"ah, i was wondering when you would come," and his voice is smooth and low, like the calm before a storm that leaves the earth ravaged, "my sweet courtesan."

"it seems my lord missed me?" now you're on the steps of the throne, and you know that you are the only one, save for the emperor himself, who can make it this far without being blown to pieces or ripped apart by the winds.

you know that he favours you, keeps you as a prize above all others, summons you at the most arbitrary of times to please him, as he does to you.

it is a fearful thought, that gojo satoru would defy the laws of gods and elders to claim you as a partner - one who would sit the throne alongside him as an equal, perhaps one day, but not yet.

the realm need not pay the price in blood for that.

your fingers dip into the bowl of warm oil, the scent of live and rosemary filling the air with an earthy, calming aroma as gojo shrugs the heavy indigo robes off his thick shoulders. the oil is cool at first, but it warms on his skin, gliding effortlessly over gojo's flesh. and you press gently at first, the oil easing against his skin, leaving a faint sheen as you work through the tight knots along his neck.

you hear a soft groan escape his lips, deep and resonant, as your fingers work into the knots of his muscles.

"i must be the luckiest man in the empire," he teases, and his voice is low and playful, as he runs his tongue over his lips leaving a gloss over his petal-pink mouth that you want to capture with your own, "i fear i'm becoming too accustomed to your...delicate, mmph! ministrations."

you snort, digging the heel of your hand harder into the muscle, and another moan escapes him, deeper this time, and it ignites something primal within you.

as your hands travel lower, you find yourself leaning closer, so your mouth ghosts over the shell of his ear, radiating red and hot.

gojo glances back at you, and you can see that the ice-blue of his eyes has become glazed over with desire, "if you keep this up, i might forget that i'm supposed to be in control here."

you indulge yourself, running your hands now over the front of his chest, feeling the ba-dump! underneath his pectoral muscles as you glide your fingers across him, "just wait, my lord, i can be quite persuasive when the mood strikes," you flick a pink nipple, and watch as he shifts, "perhaps, we might even shift control."

before you know it, he closes the space between you, with a soft laugh, and your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first — deepening as he pulls you onto his lap, and you gasp as you feel the thick bulge underneath the woven fabric, skirting your hips against it for the most delicious friction.

still, the oil slicks your hands as you run them over as much skin that you can find, and it's messy, full of fervour, as he runs his hands now up your robes, and prods a slender finger right past your gaping, quivering entrance, the ring of muscle allowing him in easily, such was your own want.

"now this," he whispers, the slighest whimper falling through his voice, against your lips, "- is how a true emperor enjoys his courtesan."

[yanmuffins]

asks 2.

context.

here are some more asks i'm replying to in a bulk about phineas and ferb reader!!

my favorite part in dc. vs vampires is when reader comes together with damian and damian to build a silly machine that un-vampifies people in like half a day so they can defeat the vampire king. it is canon.

@amethystjellyfish

perry really is reader's number #1 stan. they're his family, reader's had him since he was a small platypus baby!

he does his best to keep reader safe, which is why he doesn't like the batfam much. he keeps it professional on the rare occasions they go on missions together, but that's it. he hates how dismissive of reader they are in the beginning, and he hates them later on when they star showering them with attention because they found out about their inventions.

not tired, anon! i love seeing people enjoy my concepts and interact with them!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

and i'm sure this has happened. more than once, actually. the power of coincidence is strong with reader. the life-saving laser beam comes from a situation involving reader's latest machine they built and tested with the help of jon.

unfortunately, one of his lasers richochets on the machine during testing, not only causing it to save batfamily's life, caught in a dangerous situation in a completely different location, but also destroys the machine so there's nothing to link it to reader.

ah, well. they'll just have to keep looking.

reader, seeing them run past her: oh! there's perry :)

i love how we have established tim is terrified of this platypus. nevermind the other pets in the manor, it's the platypus with its googly eyes that drives him insane. they don't get it, he got up to drink water at 3 a.m. and the thing was just there, looking at him. menacingly.

jason would though. meanwhile, perry is wishing he could just go back to metropolis. he didn't have to deal with reader's siblings in metropolis. he doesn't get enough hazard pay for this.

hm... good question!

i like to think that, much like with phineas and ferb, luck is on reader's side most of the time, so i don't see reader getting injured by their own inventions.

but, let's suppose they do: it's a nice sunday afternoon, the batfam has decided to gather around the living room and hang out, watch a movie, lots of popcorn and soda. they don't have to think about criminals or fighting, tim and damian are bickering, jason is around, peace reigns the manor.

until they hear an explosion. they run to the garage only to find reader on the floor, unconscious, bleeding, and an assortment of destroyed metal components to a machine they can't decipher. damian doesn't even feel good about reader finally being busted.

later, when reader is back home, awake and out of risk but with a bandage around their head and their leg in a cast, they're in for the biggest (and probably first) scolding of their entire lives. reader tries to play it off. it wasn't that big of a deal, they're fine, aren't they? and they're genuinely optimistic about it. but the entire family is talking over each other at first, until bruce signals for everyone to shut up and leave the room. he has a very serious talk with reader, and makes it very clear they're not to come near a toolbox ever again.

but he understands. it's partly his fault for not being attentive. he won't make that mistake again.

ofc reader is really upset. dick comes next, then stephanie, then cass, then duke, then barbara and they all try to convince reader in a much more amiable tone that hey, it's fine. who needs to do all that whacky stuff to have fun? just hang out with us. they can get another hobby, and this time they can make it a family thing! how's that sound? not fun? don't be like that... they're sure reader will come around.

tim is pretty much the only one who congratulates them for being awesome pulling all those stunts, one per day, it's impressive. but now it's time to step back a bit. who knows? try being careful and bruce will let you work with a welding tool again. one day. maybe.

damian and jason's reactions are more similar to bruce's. in other circumstances, damian is on reader's side and helps them sneak around to continue their shenanigans, but in the case of reader getting hurt he just wants them to not do that. any of that. ever again. and jason has to hold himself back not to snap and ask them what the hell were they thinking?! they could have died! he ends up just telling them to quit it. they're just a kid who shouldn't be messing around with that sort of stuff.

anon, i wouldn't go as far as say he'd use venom against them, but he's bit batfam before. as stated, he does not dig their vibe at all!

anon, that's a great idea! though i think p&f! reader is much too motivated by the creative process and experience that their inventions bring more than just willing them to come to life.

they have the power to create whatever they want, but what's the fun of it? what about hte process? the building? the friends they make along the way? the memories? i think reader would find the ring awesome at first, but the novelty would wear of in less than a week.

anon...

because i dig the idea of reader being friends with dipper and mabel. reader talks about their crazy inventions, and loves hearing about all the cryptids they came across during vacation.

reader invites the twins to the manor, they share their most recent summer memories. reader talks about that one time they built and drove a massive monster truck with their brother damian, but jason only comes into the room in time to hear about dipper and mable talk about the weirdmaggedon. he has several question marks around his head. aren't those kids a a little too old to be making shit up? or maybe... no, there's no way. or is there? no... he would have heard about this... but weirder things have happened. but what if...

@randomlyappearingartist

you are so right. to be honest, i don't even think the batfam would even know of his existence, since he's pretty much a very minor villain acting in metropolis. after perry joins the league, or in the rare occasion of dr. doof teaming up with another minor gotham villian like condiment man, is when they get to know he exists.

and since perry seems to have him under control, they don't even acknowledge the guy.

i love love love this sm!

they assume it's just flash mobs. it's got to be. flash mobs with really weird themes, like an entire musical number dedicated to the squirrels in damian's pants. that was strange. bruce patrolling in the middle of the night and this new crime lord just burst into a song with a band and hired back dancers, because it's apparently a new trend a minor villain in metropolis started.

and what about that one time dick took damian (and reader) to the library and some guy just started singing about how he doesn't have rhythm? and damian just started playing a trumpet? and reader started singing? i mean, it was a bop and he started dancing, but it was weird anyway.

but now i'm thinking of damian and reader singing the "summer" song together (he sings the "it's noticeably warmer" and that's it) though! wholesome.

@lazyandannoyng

not annoying at all! you're good ⸜(˙꒳​˙ )

i have this little idea in my head that reader doesn't take the wayne name when find out bruce is their dad and move to gotham, and bruce is pretty secretive about this new kid of his for purely privacy and safety reasons. so when reader does their networking, it's often not obvious they're a wayne. not sure if this will make it into the fic, but it really resonates with this concept!

it's also funny to think that a lot of people don't even know reader and the waynes are related. even if they do know reader is related to the batfam, nobody really talks about them by name (just "your sibling"), and all of those little details like never asking about where the gloves came from (because why would he) or the misunderstandings where one party means one thing and the other assumes it's another (dick has many siblings! too many!) just end up helping reader not get caught. and i just think that's neat.

[wren-kitchens]

it- to be clear, joel kind of knew from the start. 

he’s seen the way etho puts on that pathetic little pout, and that oh-so-sad voice that he knows doesn’t actually mean anything other than etho wants something and thinks joel will probably say no otherwise. joel noticed all of this immediately- it's not like etho's subtle about it, is he? in his defence, gem didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary- or at least, she didn't mention it, so joel wasn't super sure if it actually meant anything weird. and- okay, yeah, fine- etho's stupid little voice and everything may be somewhat effective on him.

of course, joel did spot that mischievous little look on etho's face as he took joel's hand and led him to the bridge, because- well, how could you not? he didn’t seem to be up to anything awful, and he didn't look guilty- like that one time he tried to convince joel into giving him free glow ink. besides, he was still going on about how mean bdubs was to him, and joel didn’t really want to miss it; etho's very funny when he’s offended.

maybe it was a little bit his fault, because when etho started hanging back a little, joel sort of stepped in front of him on instinct. it's not like he died or anything- bdubs didn’t even die and he was standing right on the trap, so it's not like there was any consequence. but- yeah, joel didn’t actually consider that etho was backing away from a danger, he just kind of assumed he was nervous. which isn't far fetched- that guy seems to be constantly nervous about something or other in the life series. 

but- well, whilst gem was laughing at tango and bdubs, joel didn’t even think to be mad at etho for leading him into a trap—even if it was a shit one. frankly, he- well. it's really very stupid, actually, but- he was just. kind of glad to be holding etho's hand still. which is- that's not weird! y’know, they’re soulmates, he'll have you know; that's a normal thing for soulmates to do. if you think that's weird, go have a look at tango and jimmy- they’re the weird ones. not joel. he’s normal. 

gem made fun of him on the way back, because of course she noticed that they were holding hands. not that there's anything weird about it- gem is wrong here. it- she didn’t have a soulmate, so- y’know. she doesn’t know what normal soulmate stuff is. that's a her problem. 

anyway. she didn’t seem to see the way etho squeezed his hand when they were leaving, so. it's whatever.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.  Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?” Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.  “Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:

"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.

AND

"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.  He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.  He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.

Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.  Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.  And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.  “You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.  “Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.

And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.   A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.  “I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @deanwinchesterswitch @freewastelandstrawberry

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @chernayawidow @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses

[alexanderwales]

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s2 part 4

read other parts from main master list here

pls send ideas and requests

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

sunoo would scold you right now if he could. sunoo warned you it could be dangerous, but you were fed up with ni-ki’s attitude lately.

more menacing, rude, angry, short tempered, everything. he was like a hormonal teenage girl. probably worse.

you stayed in the shadows, masking your scent with a smell that didn’t go noticed by vampires. (thanks to your snooping around jay’s room).

you ended up following ni-ki tonight in where ever he was going. eunchae surprisingly hadn’t came with him.

your heart sped with each step you took further into the woods that ni-ki was walking towards with no care or fear.

you were careful not to make a sound, to not step on a twig, or be clumsy and fall like someone in movies. about less than a mile in, ni-ki reached a group of people his age around a bonfire.

you got as close as possible and nearly gasped at what you saw. a few guys with girls on their laps. but it wasn’t that they were horny couples. no.

the boys were feeding on these girls. were these seriously the new boys ni-ki had been hanging around?

your eyes narrowed in on ni-ki, and your jaw dropped seeing ni-ki take a seat, a girl getting comfy on his lap, before his own teeth sunk into her neck.

“what the fuck?” you whispered and went to step back but fell. “shit!”

all the vampires stopped what they were doing, the girls in a trance and oblivious to what was happening.

standing up slowly and quietly, you counted each vampire, accounting for each you saw earlier. they hadn’t moved from their spots other than their ears perking.

“probably an animal.” a blonde boy said.

ni-ki looked around, deep down, feeling off about the situation. he pushed the girl off of him. “you sure it was just an animal?”

“bunnies and deers live in the forest too, ya’know.” the blonde guy laughed, going back to his feeding.

“just sit down and finish eating. you need your energy.” another voice said. this time it was a dark hair guy with full lips from your observation.

holding your breath, you walked quietly away, trying to remember your way back out to the main road.

avoiding every leaf, twig, anything and everything that could make a slight noise.

you finally let your breath out when you saw the tree line, but yelped at a hard push, your back hitting a tree trunk.

“ow.” you whimpered. you opened your eyes, seeing ni-ki holding you close to the tree by your shoulders.

“what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” ni-ki uttered with a smile.

you gulped. “just going for a walk.”

ni-ki smiled smugly. “it’s dangerous for you to be out here like this.” ni-ki used his finger to play with a piece of your hair.

“then what are you doing out here?”

“i’m a vampire, i can hold my own.”

ni-ki had evidence of blood on the corner of his lip, you couldn’t help but notice. ni-ki, never taking his eyes off you, used his tongue to lick it up.

“mhm, tasty.” he laughed and moved away from you, your back still against the tree, afraid to move.

“ni-ki—,”

“come on, let’s get you home.” ni-ki nodded towards the main road.

you didn’t know why, but you were afraid to go with him. “ni-ki—,”

“i said, let’s go.” he ordered deeply.

you’ve never heard his voice go so deep before. you swallowed nonexistent water and nodded, afraid to say anything further.

walking beside him, less than 12 inches apart, you both walked back towards the house in silence.

you had so many questions, but had no way of expressing them. you felt muted.

the walk home seemed to take forever, and as you arrived, you went to run to the door, but ni-ki grabbed your wrist, fingers tightening, leaving a mark for sure.

“ouch ni-ki,”

“you are to say nothing, understood?”

you looked up at him from your wrist, nodding. “i understand.”

his hold tightened. “i’m serious. you let out even a slight peep about tonight, i will ruin you.” he threatened.

again you nodded. “i—i promise.”

although ni-ki was younger than you, he was 100 times more threatening in every way.

he smiled in satisfaction. “good.” he went to turn around, “just so you know, that musk smell doesn’t last long.”

he walked off, your guess back to finish his feeding. ni-ki was feeding on actual humans again. you felt so torn. afraid to tell on him, but feeling like a coward for keeping it in. you could be jeopardizing those girls lives.

you remembered how ni-ki was when he first fed on a human. it was bad, nearly killing the poor girl. ni-ki can’t control his hunger once he feeds. anytime he fed on you, an elder and another had to be with him just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.

you also remember his attitude and personality when he fed on human blood. he became stronger, his powers different.

could he be behind your nightmares?

“love, what are you doing?” jay asked. he had opened the front door, you unaware, which cause you to startle.

“oh, i just needed some fresh air.”

“did you try to mask yourself? you smell weird.”

you nodded shyly. “i just wanted time alone, without being followed.”

instead you did the following.

“been snooping in my room, huh?”

you rocked back and forth, innocently. “maybe.”

jay gave you a wicked smile. this time you squealed in delight, running into the house, jay hot on your heels.

“you can run, but you can’t hide from me love! i told you, you snoop, you get punished!”

you ran past the living room, past the kitchen, ignoring any of the other boys you passed.

you started running up the steps, jay calling out from the bottom. “get to my room like a good girl and i will go easy on you!”

you looked behind you for a split second, sticking out your tongue.

you ran towards ni-ki’s room at the end of the hall, shutting the door behind you, rushing to take cover in his closet, stepping over his (nasty) dirty clothes.

you squatted, and when you went to put your hand down, you felt something cold. picking it up, you found it was condom wrappers.

“ew!” you screeched, and the closet door opened. jay started laughing when he saw your disgusted facial expression while holding the unopened condom.

jay shrugged, “at least he’s being protected.” jay grabbed it and threw it over his shoulder. “we won’t need that.”

jay lifted you, throwing you over his shoulder with ease, and walked back down to his room, slapping your butt in the process.

“would’ve had an easier punishment if you would’ve just went to my room like a good girl.”

jay threw you on his bed after he shut his door with a lock. “scoot towards the edge of the bed. hands out.”

you followed the orders, jay getting duct tape out of his drawer, and taping your wrists together. your lower half fluttered in excitement.

he ripped off an extra piece, taping it over your mouth. he smirked. “bring back memories, love?”

you nodded. jay pushed you to lay on your back on the bed, pulling your body towards the middle. he placed your hands and arms above your head.

“you remember the rules. do not remove that tape from your mouth. do not move your hands from above your head.”

you nodded. jay parted your thighs, taking no time to get your pants and underwear off. thankfully he didn’t rip them off.

“actually—,” he began as he changed his mind. he pulled the duct tape off your mouth gently, only to replace it with your own underwear. “goes for the same—don’t remove it.”

jay pushed your thighs further apart, your feet resting on the bed. you were open and ready for him, inviting him to do whatever he wanted.

he took off his belt, and used it as a way to punish you. how? whipping it down on your uncovered cunt, dripping wet.

a muffled screamed came from your mouth, covered by your underwear.

“mhm, i like that sound.”

it took every willpower to not move your arms as he whipped down below 4 more times, getting harder by the last. tears appeared behind your eyelid, for both pleasure and pain.

you shook your head to signal, “no more,” with a sniffle and sob.

jay used his palm to soothe your lower half. “sorry love, but you know you get punished when you don’t listen.”

your stomach retracted with your sobs, your legs threatening to close, but jay sat on his knees in between.

his right thumb rubbed circles on your clit, as his left palm rubbed soothing strides against your thigh. his thumb soon teased your leaking hole, begging for him to penetrate.

his thumb slipped in with a tease, only to pop out and rubbed the gathered wetness of you on your clit.

you moaned behind the cloth in your mouth, your legs now trying to close for friction.

jay slapped your knee. “ah-ah, stay open for me, love.”

you opened back up, jay smiling at your ability to listen. “good girl.”

jay used two fingers now, rubbing harshly down on your clit, then pushing those two into you, your head tilting back on the pillow, his name muffled coming out your mouth.

his fingers teasingly kept a slow pace, thumb entertaining your clit. your hands gripped the bedsheet above you, your eyes closed in extreme pleasure. you tried to keep your eyes on jay, but occasionally closed them.

how did you start off this night following ni-ki, scared out of your wits, to you being on your back like a slut for jay.

and you enjoyed every bit of it.

you began to pulse your cunt, ready for an orgasm when jay pulled out his fingers. this time your groan was in frustration.

if you didn’t have your underwear in your mouth, you’d be fussing and cursing up a storm at jay.

“patience love. you’ll get to come.”

you knocked your head on the pillow in frustration. jay got off the bed to undress him self completely, reaching back up to you, to pull your shirt and bra over your breasts since he couldn’t take it off.

well he could, he would just have to rip it off of you.

his eyes bore into your body, taking in every inch of your skin. if he could, he would leave bite marks on every inch of you.

jay pulled you closer to him, as he stood at the edge of the bed, your feet resting close to the edge.

no warning, jay eased his tip in you, your body never familiar with the stretch of him or the others. while sunghoon and heeseung had length, jay, jake and jungwon were on the thicker side.

“that’s it love, take me all in.”

your body easily accepted jay, his hands gripping your waist. your hands still tied above your head. since you disobeyed him, jay wasn’t going to be gentle.

that showed when he removed himself completely only to literally slam his dick back in you, another scream muffled by your underwear.

jay took your thighs so they rested against his chest, your feet now hanging over his left shoulder.

you couldn’t describe how good he was making you feel, as you became breathless. lacking the ability to come up with words.

pummeled. hammered. pounded. forceful.

all synonyms for how jays dick was going in and out of you. his headboard knocking into the wall with so much force, you were scared it would leave a dent, maybe even a hole.

you spat out the underwear, so you could finally be vocal, punishments be damned. loud moans dropped from your lips.

jay brought his right hand up to squish your cheeks, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“let the others know how good daddy is making you feel.” jay growled out, this thrust never slowing down.

you were working up a sweat as if you had ran a marathon while jay had no trace of sweat on him.

your hands gripped the covers under you, as tight as you can. you may of discarded your underwear from your mouth, but you weren’t about to test jay by moving your hands and arms.

jay ended up picking you up, holding you tight and held your back against the door as he fucked into you. your hands tight between you and jays chest. your cunt began leaking down your thighs, down jays thighs and lower stomach.

“ja—jay,” you leaned your head back against the door.

“i know baby.” he whispered, bringing his lips to yours, forcing his tongue in your mouth. his hand still gripping your jaw to keep you in place, as his body pinned yours against the door.

thanks a million, jay can’t reproduce since his sperm was dead.

“jay!” you screamed at the top of your lungs as you came all over yourself and jay, leaking down both your bodies.

“fuck, i love you.” jay mumbled, giving you a sweet peck.

“i—love you,” you sighed out between breaths, your sweaty body going slump against his. jay had no issue holding you up as he took you to his bathroom for aftercare.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

as ni-ki walked back to the hang out spot, he was met halfway with sunwoo, who had a bright smile on his face.

“who was that girl?” sunwoo asked.

ni-ki played dumb. “what girl?” he was already irritated.

sunwoo scoffed. “she did a terrible job trying to hide her smell.” then, he smiled which only annoyed ni-ki. “she smelled good too. smelled sweet.”

“she’s off limits.” ni-ki bit out.

sunwoo rolled his eyes, “blah blah blah. why is she off limits? you said the same thing about eunchae and you don’t even have a thing for her!”

to ni-ki, eunchae was special. he felt a protective presence overcome him whenever he was with her.

with you, you belonged to him and his brothers only.

“my elders will rip your head off if you come within 2 feet of her.”

“how will they feel knowing you were the one who brought her to me. to us.”

ni-ki shook his head. “i didn’t bring her here. she followed me. she’s always snooping.” ni-ki could imagine the disappointment in your face of him calling you out for always snooping. he loved to rile you up.

“well, make sure she stays away. if she’s comes back, i can’t promise i’ll be sweet to her.” sunwoo taunted.

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 9: donuts

contents: gojo satoru x reader, really bad flirting attempts, swearing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, gojo calls you babe, forced proximity summary: after returning from kyoto, gojo asks you to sneak out with him to get late night donuts. after he gives you a thoughtful gift, you can't help but admit that he makes you happy wc: 7.7k

he tsks impatiently. “just say it!” he stomps his foot irritatedly, leaning closer to you. “s’okay, i know you’re shy. here, here – i’ll start – i missed you when i was away, babe.” he says ruffling the back of his hair, the white strands picking up the artificial fluorescence of the street lights above. it looked as if he were glowing. “thanks.” “no! that’s not what you’re supposed to say!!!” throwing his hands up exasperatedly, deflating entirely at your words. “you’re so bad at this, babe,” he groans, his arm settling around your shoulders.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

gojo groans as he stretches out on the too small shinkansen seat, his bored blue eyes failing to take in the rapidly moving landscape through the window. as he antsily bounces his leg up and down he couldn’t help but exhale dramatically. gojo just wanted to be in his room – to him nothing seemed like more of a punishment than being bored. after being forced to come back to kyoto to help plan for the “future of the gojo clan," his fuse was running dangerously short. tsking, he knew should have listened to himself and snuck out a few days earlier like he had planned to, but they kept him on a tight leash — unfortunately some things never change. though gojo had to give himself some credit, having endured two painfully boring days into his week-long stay before causing any trouble. he was lucky to escape when he did but just he wished he could've saved himself the trouble of having to sit in those stupid meetings listening to dull clan politics and old people waffle on about outdated ideals and nonsense standards.. the final straw was the lengthy discussion of the importance of the colour of this year’s ceremonial plates – after that meeting he knew he had to get out of there at any cost. taking his glasses off, he rubbed his eyes irritatingly – after everything he's been through, his terrible mood was warranted. but what added to his bad mood was the lack of a text from a certain someone. he sighs, irritation slowly melting away the closer he got to tokyo – the further away from the gojo estate the better.  looking at the darkening grey skies through the windows of the shinkansen, he closes his eyes to ease the pounding of his head. but a vibration in his pocket instantly puts a smile on his face and soothes the ache in his messy mind. hoping that it was you, he quickly grabs his phone to check his messages.

♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: gojo (8:33pm) gojo: yes my grumpy girl? ♡♡♡♡♡ (8:34pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: where are you? (8:39pm)

gojo smiles hopefully, was it getting hot in here or something? 

did you miss him? were you thinking about him while he was away? he hoped you did. placing his glasses back on his face, dark lenses hiding the growing hearts in his eyes. 

gojo: (,,♡ᵕ♡,,) OH WHY B DO YOU MISS ME I MISS U TOO IM ON THE (8:44pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: no (8:44pm) gojo: VERGE OF TEARS ALL THE TIME (8:45pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: stop it (8:45pm) gojo: DW IM ON MY WAY HOME (8:46pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: where are you? (8:47pm) gojo: ILL SEE U RIGHT AWAY WHEN I GET BACK PROMISE ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ (8:49pm) 

gojo watches as you type and stop, chuckling to himself. he suspects that you’ve either thrown your phone in embarrassment at his antics or was struggling to figure out what to say – most likely both. he could just imagine the cute way that you would flush, your defiant eyes juxtaposing the sweetness you tried to bury. were you hanging out with suguru and shoko in the common room right now? perhaps it was movie night, shoko would’ve probably chosen some sort of murder mystery or rom com, but he knew you preferred sci-fi. or maybe you were in your room at your desk, probably reading some novel that suguru recommended, too engrossed in the novel to turn on more lights. 

 ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: omg dude where are you? (8:52pm) gojo: just left kyoto, clan shit i got you a souvenir (8:54pm ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: its ok, dw abt me (8:55pm) gojo: I already bought it ur gonna luv it b ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) (8:56pm

satisfied, he shuts his flip phone. adjusting his body to comfortably slump in his seat, he wondered how something so simple could drastically change his mood. taking a look at the time, he grins as he counts down the hours it takes for him to see you again. 

lying in bed you melt deeper into your covers as the night wanes on. the quiet of your room is only disturbed by you gently turning the page of the novel that suguru had lent you. you had chosen to go to bed early and you were surprised that your plans had for once come to fruition – it really was the perfect evening, quiet and relaxing. perhaps that was due to gojo’s absence –  it was almost too quiet when he went away. the lonely silence keeping you company in his place. you were growing accustomed to gojo’s larger than life presence, his laugher decorating your life with light. his once irritating and crude words morphing into fun and playful comments that would make you unexpectedly laugh. gojo had a tendency to conjure something more colourful and silly out of you – qualities that you thought you no longer had the capacity of, losing them the day that your sister died. but with him around, things just seemed more amusing, their corners less sharp and painful, his bright laugh cushioning you from the harshness of the world. and you hated to admit it. 

the vibration of your phone on your bedside table pulls you from your disgusting thoughts

but maybe that was him.. did he get bac - wait why did that matter? ughhh.

moving to hastily mark your place in your book, you roll over with curiosity to grab your phone. 

gojo: u up? (12:48am) you: you did not just send me a u up text (1:05am) gojo: not like that b! ( ˵ •̀ □ •́ ˵ ) ur already up anyway (1:07am) you: no im not (1:13am)

you jump as you suddenly hear your bedroom door handle jiggle impatiently, your phone on your bed vibrating with a vengeance. 

is he fucking serious right now? the audacity of this guy, it was past midnight – 

gojo: BABE! (1:14am)

you groan softly, you were in bed already. comfy. cozy. ignoring the disturbance, you turn to lie on your side, your back facing the door you shrug your comforter over your head. 

gojo: IF U DON’T ANSWER IM GONNA SCREM (1:16am)

the glow from your phone illuminates your face under the blankets as you snicker softly at his messages. there’s no way that gojo would scream – he didn’t have the balls. you decide to call his bluff and settle deeper into your comfortable pillow, empty hands searching for bun bun beside you, ignoring your constantly vibrating phone.

gojo: AND WAKE EVERYONE UP RN RN BABE!!!!!! (1:18am)

you reach for bun bun, playing with his long soft ears absentmindedly, mildly aware of your impatient phone or the rattling of your doorknob – gojo could wait, bun bun was too cute to ignore. 

gojo: FINE OK U ASKED FOR THIS (1:20am)

suddenly you hear the beginning of gojo screeching, hastily you run to your door, immediately grabbing him by the collar of his uniform, you slap your hand roughly against his too loud mouth. you bite your lip to prevent a satisfied smile from creeping on your face as you successfully muffle the obnoxious intruder. “what to fuck is wrong with you?!!” you shout whisper as you shove his chest with your other hand, his long legs stumbling deeper into your dim room. “you’re gonna get us in detention!” you berate him taking in his disheveled appearance, his eyes wide as saucers, his glasses askew on his face. “do you not fucking hear how loud you were?!” you whisper angrily to him, giving him a death glare while hesitantly removing your hand off his soft lips. gojo’s eyebrows twitch in amusement, only adding fuel to the fire in yours. “see! look what you did! you woke up bun bun!” you gesture to your pink stuffie, jostled in the rush to answer the door, his little legs dangling pathetically in the air. gojo flops into your bed with a strange familiarity that oddly makes your chest feel too tight. with a sheepish look he makes to grab the stuffed animal, “i’m sorry, buddy,” he whispers too sincerely as he rights the pink bunny, “i didn’t know you were sleepin’ – that was uncalled for." he tucks bun bun back into your bed gently, grabbing your beige comforter and patting his head comfortingly attempting to lull him back to sleep, stopping for a moment playing with his long floppy ears. you pull a face. “why are you so nice to him and not to me?” you pout, hoping your heated gaze burns a hole in the side of his head. gojo looks up at you with an obnoxious frown, “i’m actually really nice to you, babe,” he says seriously, still patting bun bun’s soft head. “oh, so disturbing me at like 1 in the morning is being nice?” you say sinking onto your bed, folding your legs underneath you. “i literally just got back and you were already up. n’ i told ya i’d see you. i tried getting back sooner, but y’know – shit happens.” he says simply, taking a seat next to you while playing with the edge of your plush comforter. “shit happens.” you repeat rolling your eyes, debating on whether you should just try to get back into bed and kick him out of your room or ask him about his trip in kyoto. undecided, you rip your soft comforter from his grasp and throw on the comforter over your legs to ease your decision making. still dressed in a warm coat over his uniform, past his usually bright eyes and toothy smile, you noticed that gojo almost looked deflated, his shoulders still tense with something you didn’t understand. you frown. “c’mon let’s getting donuts,” he offers, knocking his knee playfully against yours before you move away from him in a huff. conscious about your stale silence, he started to worry that he underestimated your annoyance with his admittedly unorthodox methods at getting your attention. but he couldn’t help it, he was excited to be home – excited to see you. ­­­­­­ “we can get ones ya like…” he tests, leaning closer towards you, noting that you didn’t shy away from him this time. he boldly pokes your stiff shoulder, subtly trying to get you to look at him or for you to give him a more obvious sign that you weren’t totally upset at him. 

“...y’know  that place in chiyoda?” gojo tries, fist against his leaning cheek, unaffecting his triumphant smile as he sees your ears perk up, knowing he got your attention. you turn your head considering your options. normal donuts were always good, but donuts in chiyoda? those were your absolute favourite. you remembered when you received an earful when suguru bought a half dozen after his mission nearby and you ate 4 of them before suguru could even have one. whoops, ya snooze ya lose, sugu. gojo had a good laugh at suguru scolding you, probably amused at someone other than himself being the focus of an infamous suguru scolding. in apology, you went to to get him another half dozen, not telling him that you had actually gotten him a full dozen but had eaten six donuts on the train ride back. suguru could tell by the sugar on your sleeves, but he appreciated it all the same and he understood, those donuts were delicious. 

you recognized that gojo was playing dirty.. but donuts are any anytime food, perhaps it wouldn’t – wait. shaking your head, you had to think logically. 

you noticed that being around satoru gojo made you make more… irrational decisions,  choices that you wouldn’t normally make. gojo had that effect on people, lowering their IQ by many points just being in the vicinity – that was a fact. 

“how, dude? curfew happened hours ago, if yaga finds out.. .i mean i’ll be fine but you?" you sneer, "you’re getting a shaved head and suguru will make fun of you so badly you’ll cry. i'm not dealing with boohoo-ing gojo, you’re already annoying when you’re happy.” gojo groans at your comment, his nose scrunching up in annoyance. 

“pff as if suguru could make me cry!” he scoffs, “yaga won’t find out.” you cross your arms across your chest, giving him an exasperated look at gojo’s ego on full display. 

“yeah, uh huh,” you mutter disbelief oozing from your body language. 

“you forget who you’re talking to babe,” he smirks cockily as you roll your eyes at him. 

“then what do you suggest, oh honoured one?” you spit sarcastically, not missing the way he sticks his tongue out at you, as you mirror him in response.

pff he was so childish. 

“i could teleport us there,”  shooting you a proud look.

“..what?! when did you manage that!?”  

he smiles cockily, “earlier this week, when you were in nagoya!” he puffs his chest out, pleased with your impressed stare.

you knew that he was working hard to perfect his teleportation. more than a few times gojo would saunter in pompously during the middle of your sparring sessions with suguru, somehow always annoyingly interrupting when you were on top of suguru just on the verge of pining him. you and geto even started making a bet at the beginning of each sparring session as to what time gojo would make his appearance. you’d laugh in victory when you would win, making the groaning geto buy your favourite chips at the corner store. or on the rare occasion when he’d win, you’d buy his favourite seaweed rice crackers. 

gojo would loudly insist that you and suguru keep him company while he was training, complaining that he needed the distraction so that he would be able to easily teleport during  chaotic missions. he’d even make you stay after geto had retreated for the night, insisting that he still needed your help. begrudgingly you often found yourself sitting crossed legged on the gym mats, watching him with equal parts curiosity and exasperation. his usually blue buggy eyes closed in concentration. his brows furrowed, his shoulder still, his usual chaotic energy cloaked in an almost eerie silence. gojo was undoubtedly hardworking and persistent  – most likely the results of strict training implemented when he was young. you were glad that he accomplished his goals albeit admittedly  a bit annoyed that you weren’t there to see it first hand. 

“pleaseeeeee, let’s goooo. you’re thinking too hard about it grumps!” he turns to you dramatically, gearing up for a lengthy conversation to convince – to beg you even – to go with him. but he’s used to it.

gojo had a smart mouth, one that he cultivated during his youth. growing up he’s learned to weaponize his strengths, easily talking his way out of many things. effortlessly convincing shoko and to a lesser extent suguru to actively participate in his mischief. like that one time after a rare mission with you and suguru, he convinced his best friend that the spiciest ramen in ginza wasn’t even that big of a deal and that if anyone could do it, suguru surely could. you could still remember gojo’s manic laughter as suguru downed two cartons of milk as you patted his back while rolling your eyes. Or when shoko had told you about that infamous time last year before your arrival when gojo had convinced suguru and her to jump in the ocean with him in naha in the middle of a particularly frigid october resulting in all of them getting sick for a week – yaga was not happy.

gojo was used to getting what he wanted and never failed to resort to playing dirty if he really had to. satoru gojo always got what he wanted. although you were a harder case to crack with the right approach, an abundance of patience and a bit of luck, he could convince you. perhaps if he applied some logic to his fun, amazing, incredible adventure, you’ll surely fold, right? 

“look, i swear I can get us back in half an hour, tops. no one will notice, i’ll even – ”

“okay.”

he blinks at you. 

what? that’s it? that was easy. you were always surprising him.  

“w-what?” his trilogy of groveling disappearing instantly on his tongue at the sight of your teasing smile.

“let’s go, I wanna get that yuzu donut they have,” you say as you grin up at him, amused by his confused face. giggling at his rare silence, gojo watches you ecstatically as you stand to rustle through your dresser, quickly picking out a warm sweater and some soft pants and practically skipping into your bathroom to change.

gojo scoffs, almost disbelievingly, a hand reaching behind his head to card his hands through his hair. a soft grin creeping on his face at how you easily smiled at him. a few months ago, he’d have to almost beg you to do anything with him. hell, it took him almost two months and daily nagging to get you to sit beside him at lunch when you first arrived. nowadays, you’d let him lounge in your room or even text him first sometimes, he’d catch you grinning at him more than pouting – the thought made him giggly, a weird fluttering feeling exploding in his stomach. 

happily he tosses his body deeper into your bed to cuddle bun bun, excitedly whispering to him about his plans- luckily bun bun was a good listener.

hearing his soft baritone, you turn your head to see what he was up to. promptly turning around before he could see your creeping smile, you attempt to shooing away the warm staticky feeling that bloomed within you when you sneak a peak gojo’s warm expression. he strangely didn’t look out of place laying in your bed, easily blending into with all of your other personal belongings. you wondered when your room became the place where he was found more regularly. 

finally shutting your bathroom door, you hear his muffled laugh as you quickly change out of your pajamas. before you could wonder what he was up to, you see an alert flash on your phone: a photo from gojo. exhaling through your nose, you flip open your phone to see that he sent a photo of himself and bun bun, the stuffie’s pink little arms around gojo’s beaming face, the bunny’s cheek leaning on gojo’s. you giggle, saving the photo immediately before shrugging your head into your sweater.

“… okay? so this will be our little secret, bun – i’m serious!  i’m counting on you.” you hear him say seriously to the plushie as you shut the bathroom door, facing gojo with a raised eyebrow.

“what are you poisoning his mind with, gojo?”

“sheesh, babe. nothing! just guy talk, you wouldn’t get it.” you roll your eyes as he rises from your bed before looking back to ensure that bun bun was still tucked in comfortably.

“okay, so how does this work?” you ask him, as he grunts, distractingly stretching out his too long body, his joints popping. 

“well, the more surface area i'm in contact with while I teleport, the easier it’ll be for me –”

your eyes widen. surface area? does that  mean –

“- to get us to our destination accurately. which means, babe – c’mere.” he moves closer to you, almost chest to chest, arms reaching around you. you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body, his comforting scent close and aggressive. 

“uh – what?” you ask, surprised at the quick closeness, placing a hand on his firm chest to prevent him from moving any closer. gojo rolls his eyes sassily, his arms falling limply at his side.

“this worked the best. me and baby did some tests. i had suguru touch my shoulder, hold my hand and then hug me. naturally, the hug got the most accurate results, ‘cause ya know, surface area. but babe, like  sugu actually smells so good, m’not sure what it is but, he definitely changed his shower gel or something ‘cause he smells different but like good diff – ”

you cackle loudly. “pff – i bet suguru hated that hug. he probably showered twice to get the extra stupid off him.” you poke at him, deflecting easily hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness.

“hey don’t be mean! that’s not the point! the point is, that’s what worked the best.”

you avoid his stare as you fidget with the buttons of your coat that you shrugged on, the low warm lighting of the room almost amplifying your nerves. 

why were you even feeling this way?

you trusted gojo, you knew that he'd get you there safely, you never questioned his abilities, you saw how hard he trained, you knew he was capable. was it the proximity?  but you were used to him sitting too close to you or poking your cheeks, but somehow lately things were different. you could no longer ignore how grossly your heart would flutter when he was near you or how you would annoyingly grin when he texted you. you couldn’t keep away from him any longer, and that annoyed you. 

he cocks his head to the side studying your strange silence, “..hey, it’s okay to be nervous.” 

“m’ not nervous…” you mumbled. sure, you'd let him believe that you were nervous just because of teleporting.

“if you’re not comfy with it you can just hold my arm or something." 

you nod shyly, avoiding looking into his eyes, too proud to see your embarrassment reflected in them. "ughhh guess i'll just have to work a little harder," he teasingly groans, hoping to make you smile. 

when you dont say anything he tries again, moving his hand to rub your shoulder, hoping to reassure you. "i got you.” he says, head turning to decipher your loaded expression. “i wont let anything happen to you, i swear." he whispers seriously.

catching your breath, you meet his unwavering gaze before slowly lowering your hand on his chest. instead you move to gently hook your arm around his right bicep. he smiles encouragingly at you, still soothingly rubbing your arm. you feel his towering stare as your cheeks heat up. his eyes twinkle, like being close this close to you was normal.

he lowers his head, "hold on tight, kay?" he whispers as you feel his arm wind around your waist. 

“gojo, you’d better get us there or else.” 

“c’mon babe! i promise! where’s the trust?” he says brightly as you scoff, shaking your head. 

“god, your ego is bigger than all of japan –”

“heh, not as big as my –”

your eye twitches in irritation. for the second that night you find your hands over gojo’s mouth, berating him of his idiotic behavior.

“ geez okay grumps” he says jerking his head back, “now let’s get those donuts!” he says enthusiastically after shrugging your hands away from his face with a smile, once again trying to ease the pout off of your face.  

you squeeze your eyes shut, increasing your grip on him, concentrating on how his soft hand felt around you. 

if you were with him, it would be fine – you trusted him before, this would be a walk in the park, right?

feeling the cool breeze on your face, accompanied by a gojo’s soft squeeze. you gently open your eyes. “see babe! we’re – oh shit heh...” 

you feel his hand on your waist, pull you closer to him. the too bright lights cause you to blink in confusion. you take a look around you, a large grand temple – wait what? sensō-ji?! that must mean you were not in chiyoda.. but in asakusa which was – 

you detach yourself from gojo’s still arm around you, crossing your arms poutily, you facing him defiantly. his eyes widen behind his glasses at your scalding expression. “hey! no, look – okay this doesn’t happen very often, trust me. i swear –” 

“this is nowhere near, chiyoda, gojo!” “it’s not that far babe, we got legs right? we can wa–” “an hour and a half away.” “i dont know why that even happened – hmm, did you feel anything funny? maybe you weren’t close enough?” “okay, this isn’t my fault!” 

“no,no, no, no –  i’m not saying it is, babe! i guess got nervous – “ “don’t blame this on performance anxiety, gojo! you have to always be prepared, what if we were on a mission! we would’ve been fucked.” 

he whines your name. “i always –” “oh my god, it doesnt fucking matter! we’re so far!” “lemme try again!” he pleads, moving closer to you, eager to please you.. but you quickly sit down on the cold ground, your legs folding underneath you stubbornly. “nope. i’m not teleporting. i’m not going anywhere.” you say firmly, your eyes giving away a streak of mischief that gojo doesn’t miss. 

gojo playful rolls his eyes and plops down next to you, leaning towards you at a dramatic angle so his shoulder touches yours. 

“one more chance.” he whines, as you stubbornly turn your back at him with a hmph. “c’mon, grumps – just one more! please?” he gently leans his head into the center of your back, repeatedly head butting your back like a stubborn little sheep. “you’re gonna teleport us further from the donuts.” you say looking up at the clear night sky, your act of being furious faltering slightly at the feeling of his head prodding you. he was ridiculous.  “no more teleporting. let’s just take the train or something.” “noooooo c’mon let’s walk then, grumps. it’ll be fun. me and you time!” 

“nope. you said you’d get us there, and you didn’t uphold your promise.” 

“i mean… technically, i promised to get us there but not the mode of transportation–” 

“i dont give a fuck about technicalities, dude.” 

“okay, okay, fine – get on.” he gets up into a crouch, a long hand gesturing for you to get on his back. “..what?” you scrunch up your nose in confusion. “get on. i’m strong enough to walk for us both, since you’re soooooooo lazy!” “you cant be serious.” you say scoffing, turning your body to face him slightly surprised by his serious face, expecting him to be joking. “why, you scared?” he asks, his glasses sliding down his slender nose. you catch his twinkling eyes. “didn’t know lil ol'grumps was scared of the most powerful, handsome, charming sorcerer of the modern age, satoru go–”  

your eyes narrow challengingly.

fuck it. if he wants to play, fine, you’ll fucking play. you had enough of his ego tonight. 

launching yourself with a burst of energy of something to prove, you practically jump on his back, your strong legs wrapping around his torso in a piggyback. “oompf!” he grunts at the abrupt contact, his bright laugh echoing through the empty street as he easily catches you, quickly reaching back grabbing your thighs. “you’re so spoiled, babe.” he says, shaking his head with a smile. 

“you’re the one who offered!” you hiss with a shove to his shoulder. 

ensuring that you were on snugly, he carefully stands up at full height. gojo laughs boisterously as he feels your arm hastily scramble to wind around his neck for balance. you never realised how tall gojo was. did he always see the world from this angle? being this high above the ground, you were slightly wary. you knew that if he dropped you it would hurt, so you had to mentally prepare for the pain when he couldn’t hold you any longer, for when he got tired of holding you up. the fall was inevitable. but feeling his soft breath on your arm, breathing in his familiar scent, a small hope bloomed in your heart when you considered that maybe, just maybe he would catch you. 

“onward! to donuts!” he playfully proclaims loudly, his steps quickening, enjoying how he feels your quiet laugh though his back, the warmth of your laughter renewing him with energy. 

draping your arms tighter around his neck you can’t help but allow your body to relax – he was unusually comfortable. you listen to gojo waffle on about the intricacies of digimon or complaining how shoko stole his conditioner the other day, “but joke’s on her, it’s actually suguru’s. i steal his all the time, that idiot hasn’t even realised yet.” 

“oh man, wait ‘til i tell suguru..” you snicker, unclasping your hands around his neck to take out your phone from your coat pocket. with a gasp, gojo jostles you obnoxiously, causing you to throw your arms around his neck again in an attempt to hold on. 

“hey! i almost dropped my phone, you ass. you’re such a baby.” you huff, making a mental note to still tell suguru as punishment for being tossed around like a sack of potatoes. 

“i have no idea what you’re going on about!” he says with a mischievous smile. 

“soooo, what were you like as a kid, babe?” he asks. “what do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard by his unusual question. “what was baby grumps like?” 

“what do you mean? me but just smaller.” you deadpan, continuing to absentmindedly stare up at the starless sky, it looked pretty from his point of view. 

“so, you’re tellin’ me that you’ve always been this grumpy, damn i feel sorry for – ouch, just a joke! i was just joking! ” he whines as you lightly tug on his hair. 

“m’ only grumpy around dumbasses.” you sarcastically smile at him. 

“pff you’re the dumbass, dumbass. okay, okay. well then what did you do to have fun with your friends?” he questions, easily carrying you through the darkening streets. “i… uh read books, and i’d cook..” 

“no, not nerd stuff, like fun stuff. did you sneak out? get up to some trouble with your friends or something?” “.. uh no. this is my first time sneaking out.” “no fucking way, babe!” he turns his head to meet yours. you blink, annoyed that your blushing face was prominent in the reflection of his dark glasses. you lean back slightly, unnerved at the sudden closeness of his face to yours, you could almost imagine the feeling of the brush of his cheek against yours or the feeling of his long eyelashes against your skin. 

“i mean… it’s kinda new that i have people to share things with...” you mumble, focusing your eyes on the button of his uniform instead of his distracting face, your twitching hands clasping tightly around his neck. 

“yeah, i get that.” he chimes in quickly, his warm hand squeezes your thigh gently, offering comfort. “but it’s fun though, even when it’s a little scary isn’t it?”

you nodded. maybe you weren’t so different, you and gojo. you were starting to see the cracks in his mask, or maybe you just knew him better or he was letting you see him – either way, you decided that knowing satoru wasn’t all that bad. 

“did you sneak out when you were a kid?” “uh,duh! no way i’d stay in that hellhole longer than I had to. everything and everyone was super traditional and boring.” 

you hum in understanding, gojo was never one for tradition often getting in trouble with the higher ups, yaga and even occasionally geto. although you understood the need for it, you did see gojo’s point – tradition did sound rather stiff and limiting. you couldnt imagine the security and pressure a child of the big three clans faced growing up, but gojo’s childhood must have been one that you couldn’t fathom. “where’d you go then?” you asked, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him, cozy and comfy as you leaned your chin on his shoulder, his soft coat against your cheek. “i’d wait til everyone was asleep and just wander around town.” 

“where’d you like to go?” 

“heian-jingu is pretty peaceful at night, i liked feeding the koi. heh, did you know, they like peas?” you giggle, “you fed them peas, gojo?” “well i tried different things! but i could sneak peas out of the kitchens the easiest and they liked them the best.” he counters, side stepping a puddle on the dark streets, “sneaking out was great until i got caught.” 

“eh? did you get in trouble?” “oh for sure, babe. but i’m the chosen one, so like, what could they do? stop me?” he jeers,  catching your grimace. “you’re such a brat.” you amusedly snort, catching his bright eyes behind his glasses. “you think im fun! im a cool brat though, right? i’m cool!” 

“mmmhm” you tease him, enjoying the little pout that threatens to grow on his face. “you must’ve been happy when you started at school, hey? must have been a big adjustment.” “god yeah, ya have no idea.” he says, “i couldn’t imagine that people lived like this all the time.” “like what?” you tilt your head. “with all this freedom.” “mhm, and… happiness.” you add softly, so quietly that you think he misses it. but when gojo turns to look at you with an expression you don’t quite understand and a slight nod, you wonder if that’s the only thing he’s heard. 

you blink in understanding as you lean down to lean your cheek against his shoulder. with the dark sky above and the silence of the streets acting as your only other companions, your mind wanders at the thought of you and gojo’s shared relief and confusion at finding a home at jujutsu tech. loneliness recognizes loneliness after all.  

and in this moment suspended in time, with your legs dangling in the cold air, thighs being held up by his strong hands, feeling his soft laughter against your chest  – you cant help but think that perhaps you might have found another home. 

gojo watches you in amusement as you happily carry your donut in a little paper bag, practically running to the bench at the park near the store. when you were happy, it was easy to tell – it radiated through your whole body, every part of you perked up in delight. 

he smiled at how happy this donut made you – these simple things. gojo was already planning to take you to other places, maybe to fancier donuts since you liked them so much. or he could teleport you to try that donut place in kumamoto or maybe to get the matcha mochi donuts ones in kyoto since you liked matcha so much, maybe he could take you to heian-jingu and find out if the koi liked donuts. he hoped they did, because that would definitely make you laugh. if you were there with him, kyoto wouldn’t be as bad even with the gojo estate being so close by. as he took his seat next to you on the bench, stretching out his long limbs, he felt his worries from earlier in the day disappear, your presence giving him new light. he grins, unwrapping his own donut. 

sighing dreamily as you take a bite out of your yuzu cream donut you softly groan in delight, finally getting what you were craving for all night. you were grateful that this place was 24 hours, this shop was your favourite ever since shoko showed it to you when you first arrived. god, you needed to thank her. “oy!” he says resting his head on your shoulder, you stare down at him with annoyance, ignoring the way his soft hair tickles your neck. 

“babe tax.”  he says simply, opening his expectant mouth. 

you sigh, shrugging him off your shoulder, you just wanted another bite and you were running out of patience. “small bite gojo – gooojoo!” you whine as you watch gojo unlatch his jaw, ready to take the rudest bite out of your donut. “– small bite!! I SAID SMALL –” “mmrphhhfff – that was a small bite!” he says with his mouth full, defending himself from your weak shove. with a defiant look, you lean down and take a rather large bite of his chocolate cream donut that he was holding as he rolls his eyes. 

“geez babe, you’re so bad at sharing.”  

“mhm, y’know that chocolate one is pretty good,” you say as you thoughtfully chew your stolen bite. 

“yeah? you wanna switch?” “nah, mine’s better.” you smile at him as he watches hypnotized by your tongue darting out to lick the chocolate cream off of your lip. 

“y’good?” you ask, catching his stare, his eyes quickly darting down to his chocolate donut. 

“ah, yeah. yeah, i am.” he recovers quickly, pink dusting the tips of his ears. 

you nod as you take another bite of your donut, too busy enjoying the contrast of the crunch of the sugar granules that lace the outside the pillowy dough of your sweet treat, the contrast of the slight tang of the yuzu pastry cream offers a refreshingly smooth and citrusy palette cleanser. 

“oh yeah! I got you something.” 

you blink owlishly as he rustles through his coat pockets, popping the rest of the chocolate donut easily into his mouth. “you didn’t have to, gojo..” you say shyly. you hated receiving gifts, you always felt awkward receiving something that you probably didn’t deserve. “close your eyes.” he says, wiping the sugar off of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“... what? why?” you ask, a fourth of your donut still in your hands. “close your eyes – it’ll be fun. trust me.” 

playfully you stuff the last bite of your donut into gojo’s surprised mouth. 

“nmmpfffff babe, really?” his annoyed tone contradicts his softening eyes as you laugh at his cocked eyebrow. he quickly chews his mouthful of your yuzu donut as you dust the sugar from your hands.

hesitantly deciding to indulge him, you close your eyes with a sigh, your twitching palms splayed out. you could practically hear gojo’s excitement as he places a small rounded container into your small hands. opening your eyes you see that it’s a beautiful metal container filled with matcha from kyoto, rendering you speechless. “i just– i thought that.. i know they’re not matcha candies.. i tried looking for them.. but –” whipping your head to his face you see a rare sight – a bashful satoru gojo. your eyes widen. you blink, heart beating in your throat. he.. remembered? “ – whenever you miss your dad, you can have some.” you exhale quickly to ease the fluttering in your stomach. something was quickly building up within you, your eyebrows crinkle at the embarrassment of your watering eyes. your fingers feel the intricate swirling pattern engraved on the matcha tin. “ you don’t have to have it if you don’t like it, babe. i dunno, the lady at the shop said it was the best one they had… don’t worry i wont be offended if yo –” 

he thought you didnt like it? he was ridiculous, he was – you throw caution to the wind. with strange ferocity you launch your betraying body into gojo, your arms finding a familiar home around his neck, your breathing evening out when you feel his warm chest against yours, your beating heart connecting with his. beating stronger now that you feel his surprised arms cage you in his scent, a silent pleased coo sprouting in him. “no. i – .. i love it…” you whisper timidly, hiding your face into his shoulder.  

“yeah?” gojo starts rubbing your side soothingly. he hoped you couldn't see his pink cheeks in the dim light. he couldnt help but notice the way your frame felt that you easily slotted against his, the perfect fit. 

“hey.. uhm.. i .. just thank you.” 

he hums as you slowly release your hold on him – too soon for his liking. “you okay?” 

you nod, focusing your attention on the tin, trying to ignore the comforting way that one of his arms was still hooked comfortably around your waist. 

“hey, no running now, grumps,” he speaks softly, looking at you with a loaded expression. “yeah, i’m okay…” you lift your gaze to his, your eyes meeting a gentle blue, a softness you hadn’t seen before from him. 

“y’sure?” you noticed the slight crease in his brow. the warmth in the way that he’d unconsciously rub your side to offer the only form of comfort that he knew from his childhood. a memory of a servant comforting the lonely future of jujutsu society when he cried all those years ago. 

he was sweet when he wanted to be.

you nod. “i just.. i’m overwhelmed, I think.” “well, that’s better than being just whelmed right?” 

“i don’t think that’s a thing, dude.” you chuckle, stepping away from his touch, still holding on to the tin of matcha, the coolness of  the tin and the raised designs distracting you from his all consuming presence. if you were any closer for any longer, you think you’d drown in him. for once you were grateful for his stupid jokes. 

“guess you got up to some fun stuff in kyoto?” you ask, attempting to overcome your embarrassment with grace, playing with a button on your jacket. 

“ughhhhhhh, i guess you could call it that – those hags kept harassing me before i could sneak out. i'm just so glad to be away from that hellhole.” he says running down his face irritatingly. “‘m glad you’re back.” you say softly. you close your eyes immediately, berating yourself at the unintentional admission – it just slipped out , you couldn’t help it. but it was too late to take it back. “oh you are? so ya missed me, eh, babe?” he grins widely as if nothing pleased him more. and nothing has. “no, i’m just saying that it was too quiet when you were gone.” you stubbornly say fervently. he tsks impatiently. “just say it!” he stomps his foot irritatedly, leaning closer to you. “s’okay, i know you’re shy. here, here – i’ll start – i missed you when i was away, babe.” he says ruffling the back of his hair, the white strands picking up the artificial fluorescence of the street lights above. it looked as if he were glowing. “thanks.” “no! that’s not what you’re supposed to say!!!” throwing his hands up exasperatedly, deflating entirely at your words.

“you’re so bad at this, babe,” he groans, his arm settling around your shoulders. “you’re such an idiot, gojo,” you mutter, a new warmth apparent in your tone. but nothing gets past gojo, the warmth in your tone exploding in the pit of his stomach pleasantly. “you missed this idiot. don’t worry, you dont have to say it – i know sugu and shoko can’t bother you like i can,” he says as you allow him to rock your shoulder against his, pulling your body to sit close against him. 

regardless of the truth, you didnt want  to feed his enormous ego any more so you shrug off his arm with a scalding look. as you reach into your jacket pocket to fiddle with your phone charm – a nervous habit that you’ve unconsciously developed. taking out your flip phone your eyes widen in shock. 

“shit! It’s 5AM –” as you stand up quickly, whipping your gaze to gojo. 

“eh?! no way!” gojo stands quickly, dusting his thighs off, while taking out his own phone to confirm the surprising news, he whistles lowly, “damn, 5:13 that’s crazy.” 

“i know, i guess we lost track of time…” “seems like it.. c’mon, i’ll teleport us back” without any fuss you hook your arm with his. playing with the sleeve of his jacket, you hoped that he was more accurate this time, yaga was known to get up early and you needed to get to your rooms before he noticed. sure gojo and geto often got in trouble and were used to the punishments, but you and ieri were more sneaky about your mischief, managing to get away without any reprimanding and you wanted to keep it that way. 

“i’m sure yaga’s still asleep, we’ll be fine…” he mutters, raising an eyebrow as you wind an arm around his back. “just in case,” you whisper as gojo pretends to rolls his eyes, a smile peaking through his twitching lips. 

suddenly, you feel the soft plush of your bed underneath your thighs – your blankets messy right where you left them. releasing the breath you’ve been holding in,  you take in your surroundings unconsciously squeezing gojo’s arm tighter in relief as you hear him chuckle. 

although the bed was messy just like you left it, the colour of your bed sheets and comforter was.. wrong. blinking rapidly, you notice that the room was strangely larger than yours. thick, old books on jujutsu were organized neatly on tall bookshelves where your desk was supposed to be, there were many stuffies around the room in varying sizes some that you vaguely recognized  – “oh fuck – ” he swears loudly, realization on his paling face, an incredulous laugh dancing on his lips. you aggressively drop his arm that you were clinging on to, quickly catching on.

“are you fucking serious right now??!“ you whisper shout at gojo, his tall figure cowering amidst your outburst. “you fucking teleported us right into yaga’s room you fucking idio -“

you feel the mattress shift, and then you feel his cursed energy surge, a tidal wave easily drowning both of you. 

fuck.

 “and what,” yaga’s deep baritone calls, fury carefully held back, “are you two doing up at this hour?” your panicked eyes meet his glowing mischievous ones, a laugh emerging faintly on his grinning face. “babe, run. run right now-” you feel gojo push you off the mattress, as your legs make a break for it. in the distance you hear gojo’s squawking as yaga grabs him easily by the collar. you quickly run across yaga’s room, thinking that you vaguely hear gojo’s smart mouth attempting to lessen the damage with lame excuses. 

yaga yells your name just before you reach the door but you don’t hear it. you’re not sure who’s laughing louder -  you or gojo.

snackies!tags: @starmapz @ghost-buddies

a/n: hi pals, it's been a while! thank you for being patient with this chapter. aren't they sweet? i just need them to get it together! AHH! see you in the comments (,,♡ᵕ♡,,)

[chiyana]

This is one of those fandom tropes that I admittedly had to weed out before it dug in too deep, mostly the unquestioning nature of it as "something Batman has said and believes" because it really doesn't hold up to scrutiny and gets abruptly horrifying the second you scratch the surface, BUT. I think there are some interesting ways to unpack it as a concept. Even then though I wouldn't start from "this is something Batman said at any point or believes", I'd start from "this is a misconception in-universe".

Like no one who knows Batman in any capacity thinks he believes this to any degree. He works with the Justice League, he's friends with Superman and plenty of other metas, he has no problem with them being in his city. He has a problem with other superheroes patrolling in Gotham because he has massive control issues and is possessive of his city, but I think most heroes established in specific cities would have similar hang-ups (to a significantly less dramatic degree, but still). I also don't think it would have anything to do with powers, like he would have exactly as bad a reaction to Green Arrow doing it as he would Green Lantern.

I do think though that Batman could have some actual concerns about metas in Gotham, not in a "I don't want them in my city" way but more of a "how do I make contingencies and keep as many people safe as possible in the worst case scenario" - 1 because making contingencies and trying to keep a step ahead of everyone is sort of Batman's thing, and 2 because Gotham does have a problem with a whole spectrum of toxins gasses pollens mind-control and mind-altering substances, which can activate meta genes, and it's probably not great to have someone learn they can set their skin on fire for the first time while high on fear gas. I don't think he would go with "drive all metas out of Gotham" because that just... doesn't make sense for him as a character, but having methods of testing for and inhibiting or countering meta abilities? Yeah, that kind of hyper-awareness for Batman makes sense.

I also think it makes sense to have it as a problem with public opinion, specifically of people living in Gotham. Gotham has a lot of systemic issues, and the 'well-known' metas are mostly Rogues. You could easily have it that there's a prevailing belief in Gotham that metas are inherently dangerous or Rogues in the making. Bruce Wayne can publicly push back against that and push for resources to help metas, both to protect them and help them learn to control and handle their powers, but Batman isn't really a public figure like other heroes. The people he saves and works with can give all the testimony they want about how he still protects metas and helps them, but he's not like... available for interview and he doesn't like being recorded, so it'd be easy for people to ascribe what they want to him - even if there's no data to back it up. Since he's Gotham's hero, if Gotham's people have a problem with metas, clearly Batman does too, right?

There's ways to unpack it as a concept and explore the idea, but honestly I wouldn't apply it across the board as a given, and it doesn't make any sense to apply it to Batman as a character trait - not unless you're prepared to make Batman an out and out fascist and no, please no, we've been down that road before and I'd rather we didn't.

i know ive said it before but i still cannot wrap my mind around how popular and unquestioned the fanon of "batman has a rule banning metas from gotham city" is. even if he tried to say that who the fuck would listen to him 💀 like can you imagine dick being like "sorry kory you can't come over, bruce is just racist like that haha" NO!!!! dick would sooner beat bruce's ass and he'd be right!!!!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Knife's Edge (Human Alastor x Reader)

CW: Knifeplay, stranger sex, smut, creampies, dub con Rating: Adult Summary: Stepping away from the party, you tried to get some are. It's a chance encounter with a dangerous stranger that leaves your dress ruffled, your panties missing and you facing some new facts about yourself. Requested by: @nyx-umbrakinesis

The clicking of your heels against the stone floors echoed down the silent hallway as you fled the party. The skirt of the gown was heavy, hanging down around your hips, swaying with each step. 

It was outdated, and you hated it, but it was the expected style of dress for a high society event.

What wasn’t expected was the man that came running down the hallway toward you, dark brown hair bouncing as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t know him and he looked terribly out of place. That didn’t make him any less attractive. If anything, the out-of-place nature of his appearance, well dressed but skin a touch too dark for someone who would be invited to such an event, made him even more alluring. 

“Excuse me?” your voice was high, pulled tight with confusion as he swept you up in his arms. “Do I know you?” 

“No,” the man hissed, voice rich and warm. He spun you away from him as he danced, taking a moment to pull from his sleeve the hilt of a blade. Red smeared along the sharp cutting edge.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, gasping as he let the blade fall into his sleeve and taking you into his arms again. 

“You’re going to play along,” the man whispered as he held your body closer. “You’re going to play the part of my prospective partner. If anyone asks, we’re courting and I’ve been with you all night.” 

“I know you,” you whispered, placing his voice. “You’re the radio host- Alastor, isn’t it?” The man spinning you to the music in the hall cursed under his breath in a language you didn’t know but had heard plenty of times in the shops. “Why do you have a bloody knife?”

“Shh,” Alastor soothed, “If you don’t want to get hurt, you’re going to do everything I say. You can play the part of my lover, can’t you?” 

“Did- did you hurt someone?” You watched his eyes sharpen at the question, “Oh god, you did.” 

“No one will believe you,” Alastor said, as he spun you around again and again. “No one will believe that I was here. They’ll think you’re just a silly woman.” 

“What did you do?” You whispered as bodies moved together. 

“I did what had to do,” Alastor said, watching as you softened in his arms slowly. Your relaxation ended as a scream cut through the halls. “Well, that took less time than I hoped.” 

Alastor pushed you, using his body to guide yours back and back until you crashed against the wall. You trembled in his arms, but he could see excitement mixing with fear in your eyes. 

“You like this,” Alastor whispered as he pulled the knife from his sleeve again. “So, I don’t think I need to tell you how imperative it is that you be quiet and play the role of a lover. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“I-” you gasped as his nose ran along the side of your neck, breathing in the soft smell of your skin. 

“I don’t think that’ll be hard for you at all.” Alastor sighed, pressing his body into yours. “I’m going to kiss you now. If you do anything to raise their suspensions, I will kill you, too.” 

The sharp point of the knife pressed against the skin of your neck, an icy reminder of the danger you were in. Alastor’s lips slanted over yours, burning heat in contrast to the cold danger. You stood frozen in his arms as he kissed you passionately. 

Your inaction rewarded you with the biting tip of the knife pressed into where the swell of your breast peeked out from the top of the dress. You gasped as he kissed you, only to have him deepen the kiss. 

The warning had been well communicated. He didn’t have to tell you twice. The rough weave of his shirt, not nearly the same quality as the fine shirts worn by men invited to the party, was warm under your hand. The heat of his skin soaked into it. 

You took in the feeling of his biceps, arm curled to hold the sharp point of the knife to your breast. Your other hand rested on his chest, running up the firm muscles of his chest. 

Eyes fluttered closed as the dangerous radio host stole your kiss. It was wrong, but feeling that cold knife blade pressed against your skin stole your breath in the same way his lips moving against yours did. You wanted more and more if it. 

It was wrong, but you wanted it.

The wall was hard against your back. Alastor pressed into you, kissing you deeper. His lips parted, taking your lower lip between his. He wrapped his hand around your thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his legs as he pressed into you. 

It was scandalous. This wasn’t how one behaved at such events, but… you knew they did. Couples snuck away, got too close in the halls. You wouldn’t be the only ones. The only difference was Alastor was a stranger with a bloody knife. 

“Does anyone look out of place?” Security staff were talking as they walked by. 

“We need to call the police.” The other man insisted. “A man is dead.” 

“Quiet down,” the first man snapped, “people will hear you. If we call now, the party is over.”

“I know but-” Alastor pressed harder into you, stealing any question off your lips as his tongue swept into your mouth. You moaned, the sound traveling from your throat into him as he held you tighter. 

Alastor pulled you from the wall, easily moving you as if you weighed nothing. Then the wall was again pressed into your back, this time a few feet further down the wall. 

“They left,” you whispered as his lips latched onto your neck. “You can make your escape now.” 

“No,” Alastor nipped your neck as his hand left your thigh, “If I leave now it’ll raise red flags.” 

“Oh,” you sighed as the blade, warmed by your skin, moved over your chest, tracing your collar bone. “What does that mean for us?” 

The blade left your skin, something you found you missed as Alastor shoved you behind the curtain. He cut the tie, slicing the rope easily. Then he was kissing you again, lips running over your exposed clavicle. 

“I want you,” Alastor said, bunching your skirts up as the curtain fell around you. It would be clear as day that two people were behind it but no one would see you or what you were doing.

“Sir,” you were unsure what to say, heat rising high in your cheeks at the thought. The blade ran over your exposed thighs. 

“You see,” Alastor spoke into your skin as his other hand cupped your breast, “If you dare tell anyone what you know, you’ll have to explain your absence from the party as well. What you were doing instead of reporting what you know.” 

His hand worked between you, blade slicking through your knickers easily. The fabric fell, ghosting down your legs as he worked the fly of his pants open. The tip of his knife ran against your thigh as legs pushed yours apart. 

“What if I don’t want you to?” The defiance wasn’t present in your voice, though you wished it was. 

The knife left your thigh. Alastor pressed the blade to your neck. You gasped as he ran his fingers through your folds. They slipped, smeared through slick folds. Shame burned at you, each caress of his fingers reinforcing the fact that you did in fact want him.

“Are you a virgin?” Alastor asked, working his cock from his pants. 

“I’m unwed,” you answered simply as his finger slipped into your opening, testing the tightness of your core. 

“So am I,” He laughed, “That’s not what I asked though.” 

“No,” you were shamed to admit it. If it was known, you wouldn’t be desirable on the marriage market and yet you knew the touch of a man. 

“Good,” Alastor kissed you as he lined the soft head of his cock up with your opening. The heavy skirts of your dress bunched between you, held higher as they were pinned between your bodies. “I’d almost feel bad if this was your first time.” 

You moaned, back arching as he pushed into your body. The thick shaft of his cock sank deeper and deeper, spreading you. He was gifted in both girth and size, spreading your walls over him and filling you. 

Every slow thrust into you pulled against your walls. The wide head of his cock ran over the sensitive walls inside you, hitting each nerve. You clung to him, fingers digging into the fabric of his clothes.

“You’re so tight,” Alastor whispered in your ear. Though he was fucking you, the knife remained pressed against your throat. The blade fought for your attention. “Are you sure I’m not your first?” 

“No,” you whispered, “So big.” 

Alastor chuckled, finding it amusing that all it too was to spread you over his cock to have you totally wrapped around his fingers. You would do anything for him as long as he kept thrusting into you. It was shameful, really, how easily the simple act of sex controlled one’s mind. He would never understand it. 

“That’s right,” Alastor cooed, running the tip of the knife down your chest as he pulled the bodice of your dress down, exposing more of your breasts. Women liked that, he knew, being exposed to their lovers. “You’re going to feel so good.” 

“Please,” your back arched, core fluttering as he worked through your walls faster and faster. 

His lips found yours, silencing your moans with a long kiss. The sharp blade ran over the swells of your breasts lazily, catching threateningly on the buds of your nipples. 

Each thrust was faster, harder than the next as he read the fluttering of your walls. You grew tighter and tighter, not needing much stimulation to drive you toward your orgasm. The forbidden excitement of the situation was more than enough to make up for the way he neglected your clit. 

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone suspicious?” someone asked in the hall as Alastor fucked into your tightening cunt. You were far from the proper woman you looked like. No, you were getting off on the whole situation. 

“No,” another voice carried through the hall. “Just a couple necking. Looks like they’re still there.” 

“You’re so close,” Alastor whispered as he pulled your thigh tighter around his waist. “I can feel your body griping me, begging for more of me.” 

“Please,” you whispered, head falling back as he worked his cock through you again and again, “I’m so close.” 

“Just focus on me,” Alastor whispered, body moving against yours. The blade ran over skin as his lips ran over your neck. “Focus on the feel of me,” 

“Alastor,” you whimpered, body clenching around him. 

“I know,” he shushed, cock twitching inside you as he worked you closer and closer, “I know. I’ve got you. Let go.” 

“Ah-” You curled around him as the waves of pleasure ran through you. “Ah- ah- Alastor.” 

Your body gripped him, core caressing his cock in waves. The sucking feeling of your cunt trying to milk him pushed him over rather unexpectedly. You were just so damn tight; he wanted to remain inside you. 

He knew better. He should pull from your warm, caressing body as his own pleasure crested. With a moan, he thrust into you harder. Each pump of his hips pushed his seed deeper and deeper as he shot ropes into you. It was careless, sloppy, but fuck, you felt so good wrapped around him. 

Each thrust after came slower as he caught his breath. You couldn’t help but admire the warmth of his skin, the relaxed smile on his face as he rode the aftershocks of your orgasm out. 

“There,” he said, lungs working to pull large gasps of air as he pulled back from you, softening cock slipping from your opening, “Now you’ve got reason not to tell.” 

“Where are you going?” you asked as his knife left your skin.

“You have no reason to know that,” Alastor said, tucking his cock into his pants before yanking your dress up over your breasts.

Leaning forward, he kissed you deeply one last time before slipping out from behind the curtain. You stepped out after, only to catch sight of him letting himself out of an open window. 

You were left alone with the memory of the feel of his knife against your skin, the taste of his kiss and the way his cock spread your walls for him. All you had was the memory… and the way his seed leaked from your stretched opening, running unobstructed down your legs as you walked timidly down the hall.

“Where have you been?” Your friend was quick to rejoin your side. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly, face flushing. 

“There’s blood on your chest,” she whispered, leaning in.

“Oh!” You scrambled to come up with a lie, eyes fluttering up to look out the window just in time to catch sight of a man with brown hair slipping into the treeline. “My nose bled. I must have missed a spot, that’s all.” 

“Go to the powder room then,” your friend pushed you toward the hall. “And clean it up.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[mommynott]

Hii I don't know if you're still taking requests but plsss 🙏🙏 I need I need Dom!Theodore letting reader take control and ride him plsss absolutely need

Always taking requests sweet pea! Even if it takes me a little to get to them sometimes LOL

Anything for my sexy smut sluts 🫡💋

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, dom!theo, bf!theo, dombf!theo, PIV, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, hickies, nipple play, dom&sub, creampie

Plap- “You’re Plap- So Plap- good”-Plap plap- Theo groans through his plows, one hand wrapped around your throat while his darkened gaze burns into yours. Beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and torso.

“Mmm-…Theo, baby?”

Through your whiney little whimpers, you manage to choke up your words. But Theodore didn’t stop. Not in the least, his hand tightened around your neck as he started to smack kisses to your jaw. “Hm?…Yes, Amore?” He asks in a deep growl, his thrusts moving at a slower pace now.

You glided your head to the side, making your eyes lock together through your heavy breathing. “Can I…Can I go on top?” Questioning him, you bat your lashes up at the Italian. Showing your full submissive side while you wait for his answer. Unsure of how this could even go.

Theodore’s eyes flickered between yours for a moment, his silver-chained cross hanging right in your face before his lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Since you asked so…nicely, I’ll allow it.” His voice held a hint of danger to it, arousing nonetheless. His strong hands moved to your hips as he laid back, pulling you on top of him as he did.

“Ride the cum out of me. Drain my fucking balls. But don’t you dare think of stopping until I’ve finished, understood?”

Of course, even having the tiniest bit of control over Theo, he still showed his dominant and assertive nature that seemed to come naturally to him. “Mhmmm- Understood.” You whispered, your hips bucking against him as your hands found their way into your own silky hair.

His nails dug into your hips, pushing you down his massive shaft harder as he rocked you faster against him. “Fuck-…That’s it, Tesoro. Just like that.” Moans slip freely from your swollen lips, your eyes glossing over as you fight to keep them open.

Theodore’s lips find their way to your hardened nipples, sucking on them with a burning need, his nails clawing so hard into your hips that it seems to break the skin. This time, he switches it up from the back-and-forth movement, lifting you slightly and thrusting along with your rhythm.

“Bouncing on my -Cazzo….cock…like such a good fucking girl..”

He hisses from his throat against your perked nipple before taking it between his teeth. Making sure to leave his marks all over your breasts because again…This is Theodore fucking Nott we’re talking about here. Does he ever fully let you take control?

“Gods- I love that dick!” The moans escaping your lips only getting louder by the second, Theo’s face buried between your tits, lost in the blissful pleasure of you. “Yeah, you fuckin’ do…fuck!- Finish with me, amore. Don’t hold back.” He husked into your sensitive flesh.

No edging. No punishment. No waiting. Oh, you were fucking taking this. Not waiting a second longer, you let your orgasm hit, creamy juices flowing down onto Theo’s cock. Your moans turning into screams of pleasure just as you feel the slight twitching from his shaft.

Theo’s seed was spilling inside of your juicy cunt, practically overflowing you with the sticky mess. His own body convulsing with sheer pleasure as he growls lowly between your chest, all in the while smothering your tits with sloppy kisses.

“You’re too fuckin’ good…Such a sight to see with you on top of me…Can’t get enough of you, amore”

Hehehe I hope yall liked this lil Drabble of our beloved dom!theo

As always asks and requests are open smut sluts 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist 🌙

[sukioyakio]

Between you and your grumpy villain looking husbands he had it worst when having memorable moments with his and yours baby.

Just like the one time all three of you were sleeping peacefully,not a sound could ruin this blissful night but that wouldn't stay blissful any longer until your sweet angel- or “devil brat “ is what Sukuna says

-Woke up and instead of making any sound to let the two of you know that she was awake she got her chubby little legs and climb on top of sukuna face making him slowly wake up for the fat chubby weight on top of him all of a sudden.

The next thing you know was that sukuna See that his little daughter was jumping on his face with giggle sipping out of her mouth but holy crap he look terrified when he smelled straight up shit in his lips and nose.

And without realizing that your so called angel fucking smeared shit on top of his face making him place her down on the bed and ran through the bathroom.

Louds groans and spiting sounds were heard from the bathroom easily waking you up From the sounds,you quickly rubbed your eyes and jerk up,looking around for your baby until you spot her and that horrible smell.

It didn’t take two to connect where smell was. Your wonderful sweetheart displayed with such innocence but what was not innocent was the shit stained on the clean bed sheets that you had such pleasure cleaning yesterday morning.

The scent of your wonderful baby was literally dreadful like the kind of dreadful that crime scenes are describe in a crime documentary type of thing.

Your face scrunch up in confusion. Ok, yes, she poops like she could kill someone but why was your husband in the bathroom spitting unless something that would be your worst fear has happened. ..

“She got her shit in my FUCKING mouth!!” He yelled furiously as he run water in his mouth,Gagging water down his mouth and tongue.

“Oh..” You whispered with a quiet gasp.Little nova looks at you even in the dim light,as if she could see you perfectly.And her face constructs into a bright smile as well as a few giggles.

Her giggle were contagious effecting you in the same way,your lips trying to not look like your gonna laugh at him but you couldn’t hold it anymore.You laugh out in colorful lights,as well as your baby girl.

As if she finds her father dealing her made shift hell was funny,and you couldn’t help but form a small smile.As a second goes by, and the water stops running. Silence seeps in fast but after a while, only Sukuna’s frustrated voice was heard.

“She Even GOT SOME OF HER SHIT IN MY HAIR!!” He yells at loudly, perfect for you two to hear,making you jump out of you blankets but quickly return in bed just in case your little star decides to do a dangerous spider man land.

His ragged voice made you and nova both giggles.

Sukuna grumble slurs under his mouths, as he went to get a grab his towels,And quickly turned back into the bathroom with a moody look.

“What a lovely way to wake up from” you heard Sukuna’s sarcastic remark.Making you smirk playfully.Nova’s little head turns up in curiosity; towards the direction of the lit up bathroom.

sukuna still has the baby scent on his noses and it smell horrible. God, this isnt one of the way of the ways he would like to be wake up too,especially from his baby.

‘The little brat poop’s more then yuji was when he was fucking young’ Sukuna said to himself.

The bathroom water started to come to your ears as you started to grab the baby to the change her papmer.

And then you saw the crime.It was slightly hanging open.And then the scent became even more stronger,you scrunched up your nose. God…she would kill anyone if she wanted.

The brown shit color had some green color to it,making you do a throwup sounds,as nova doesn’t seem to be faze by the smell but seem to see your expression and smile and giggles loudly.

“Jezz Girl… you’re so nasty” you sigh while chuckling. This little punk is what got the best laughter from you in your whole life.you and sukuna but sukuna wouldnt say anything about it.

But you seen him having the most smile when he playing with your baby. It’s cute and wholesome. too bad sukuna is dying in the inside right now.

Speaking of sukuna he’s been there about like ten minutes or 30 minutes now? Hmm… even baby misses him.

You wonder what if mr grump will answer you about how the baby poop taste.probably not. Maybe later? You chuckle to yourself.

As you tickle nova’s feet smiling at her beautiful giggles sound;staring at her attentively tracing her birth mark that were under her eyes bags.Later you went to put Nova to sleep and went to bed yourself.

Sukuna would get out with a different clothes and had probably washes his teeth for about five times. But when he got out of the bathroom. He walks towards the bed quietly. He pauses before getting inside the bed.

As he looks down the beautiful sight infront of him;how your arms wraps around your baby gracefully.How you both look so peaceful.He hadn’t even notice how his lips were moved into a smile.

He knew that you wouldn’t see it, and he silently whispers to himself.

‘You both little punks are my world..’He promised to himself as he lay down on the bed,his body made the bed creek a bit but slowly he wraps his large arms around the both of you,His head laying on your shoulder later falling asleep.

thank you for reading this.This a alton universe of ‘use me then.’ I hope y’all like this one too. sorry about the grammar mistake.

Taglist: @lil-annonie @scoobysnakz @mxrgodsstuff @lynxslokley @mononijikayu

Made by @sukioyakio 2024

[planetpedri]

hey diva… just give me anything with torres and lowkey… make it ansgty

Better than this — Fernando Torres.

Pairing: Fernando Torres x Fem!Reader

Summary: All he wanted was you, but you were certain he could find someone to treat him better than you ever could.

Word count: 740+

Disclaimer/s: angst , arguing , hopeful ending

A/N: I hope this made you happy beautiful, @ar4ujos ^_^ I luh you.

Knocking and knocking and knocking. “Baby open the door.” Fernando pleads, his head resting against the wooden frame. You’d locked yourself in your bedroom after he’d.. oh God. Even thinking about it made you nauseous.

He had, in simple terms, confessed his very real feelings for you. At first, when he’d started hanging out with you more, taking you out on ‘dates’—not that you’d let him call them that, it was fine. It wasn’t serious or anything, just the both of you having fun.

“Fer, go away.” You groan, head tipping back against the bed frame. You sat on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom, trying to collect your thoughts. He deserved better than you! Why wouldn’t he just go away?

“I’m not..” His voice grows quiet. “Listen, I know it scares you, I know you don’t like relationships, but please. I want—I need you.”

You wanted to believe that, you did. But your brain was practically screaming ‘danger! Danger! Danger!’ He didn’t deserve to be locked in a relationship with a girlfriend who would constantly overthink. You had too much baggage and the blonde did not deserve that.

“Baby, open the fucking door.” He says through gritted teeth. “Please, if you’re going to break it off, I need to you say it to my face.”

Reluctantly, and against everything your brain was telling you to do, you stand up and shuffle toward the door. You unlock it, opening it just enough to poke your head through. Then you see his face, that beautiful.. no.

Blinking slowly, you chew on your cheek. “Okay. I—“ You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell him to go.

“You…?”

“I, uhm.. Can you not look me in the eye when I say this?” You huff, eyes diverting to his shaggy blonde hair. Lord, his hair. Memories of your fingers threading through the blonde locks flooded your mind. You did not want to break anything off, but you had to.

“No.” He stays firm, shaking his head. “And, open the door all the way. If you really didn’t want this, you’d be able to say it to my face.”

“I am?” You scowl at his hair. “You make my life so difficult.”

Fernando nods. “I’m sure I do.”

“And you are insufferable, and very, very! Annoying. You also—“ Your brain short circuits. Why was he looking at your lips? “Stop that. Now. I’m trying to get you out of my life.”

“Are you really? You’re not trying very hard.”

Oh.

Your face flattens. “You’re proving all the points i’ve been making.” You point out, which unfortunately had a smug look forming on Fernando’s freckled face. “I want you to—“

You couldn’t speak. You almost said something wrong, something the complete opposite of what you’d been trying to say.

His eyebrows raise, beckoning for you to continue. When you don’t, his previous grin falters. He says your name quietly, concern etched into every syllable.

“Sorry, I, uhm,” you shake your head. Get a grip! You could give in, or slam the door in his face again, but you don’t. Instead, you scratch the side of your head. “Okay, clearly I don’t know what I’m trying to say. But, Fer, you don’t deserve this—me. You should be with someone who can provide for you exactly what you need.”

“But you are what I need.” He furrows his eyebrows, his head rolling to the side. “Why can’t you just give this—us.. a chance?”

You had never been so irritated and appalled by someone in your life. And you were thankful. Because his words only made you want to believe him, despite the part of you that couldn’t. The fact of the matter was, he was giving you hope, and hope is dangerous. But what is life if not decades of risks?

“One date. One real date. Then, I will think on it.” You finally give in, rolling your eyes at the way his face lit up.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make me regret this.” You point at his chest, your pointer finger digging into it. Fernando smiles, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling it away, but still keeping a hold on it.

Fernando beams at you, “I promise you won’t.” A short pause, “does this mean I have to leave?”

You think for a moment before taking a step back into your bedroom, dragging him with you. “I suppose not.”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @joaosfelix @hrts4havertz @spidybaby !

[lewkwoodnco]

Okay I’m just so proud of this edit I just havee to talk abt some of the scene choices hehe🙈🙈

Mon, pine - ngl i completely forgot this scene existed until I randomly stumbled upon it while looking for some other screencaps and thank god I did cuz it fits SO WELL??? Lucy’s possessed by Annabel who’s talking abt someone else obviously but just LOOK at Lockwood’s face half of him wants to snap Lucy out of it/make sure she stays safe and the other half is just mesmerised by the sight of her looking at him like that. And the dialogue??? YOU LOVE ME, DONT YOU????? And he so obviously does but can’t say it/ is too scared to and it’s frightening to see lucy like this but he can’t look away he’s drinking in the sight like a man starved 😭 just the juxtaposition of lovkwood’s pining and the cheekily on-the-nose ‘you love me don’t you’ line creates this delicious tension ARGH the writers were sick SICKKK for this

Tue, long - as soon as he first laid eyes on lucy it’s like he can’t help but let his gaze linger over her and even though she’s the candidate being interviewed the way he tries to impress her as he gives her the tour (the basement training area, the ‘high security’ storage room, her room in the attic) it’s like you can tell he’s already desperately hoping that she’ll join as if he’s longing for company like hers

Wed, ache - love is nothing if not pain like other than the obvious physical pain of being in such close proximity to a flare explosion etc bro is HURTING with regret for putting her (and george) in danger just cuz he insisted they take the case and now they’re in so deep and its all his fault but also he just wanted to fix the 62 sheen road fallout keep his agency open (it’s almost like he wants to prove to her that he/lockwood and co. is worth sticking with) but it’s all gone so wrong and he’s just drowningggg in physical and mental anguish only love can hurt/ACHE like this frfr

Thu, sigh - but at the end of the day lockwood is still a 16 ish year old boy who sucks at expressing his innermost feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with jealousy in any way other than being moody about it/suppressing it and this scene is like yea these are kids fighting ghosts night after night but for five minutes they get to be regular angsty teenagers and have the air between them hang heavy with unspoken words and it’s all so dumb and frustrating but also they’re teenagers what ELSE are they going to do HHHHHHH like look at his face!!! bro is befuddled. dumbfounded. bamboozled even. (what do you mean you’re going out with Kipps i thought we’ve been playing house tgt what)

Fri, lament - as funny as this scene is it’s oddly sweet how he’s ranting so openly to Lucy and like the way she tries to reason with him (he probably signed the same NDA we did) and he STILL stomps around throwing a fit aurgghh it’s so adorable just kiss already

Sat, crave - just look at him. bro is down bad for every single part of lucy it’s like he can’t get enough of her, he’s not even hiding it here like look at him watch her like she’s the most precious thing in the world ughhh

Sun, yearn - ooh this scene is like the breaking point of all the accumulated hidden feelings and thoughts between them and he’s messed up so badly atp even lucy is properly pissed (where’s that incorrect quote - my girl is mad at me I am going to KILL myself) but he’s just too paralysed by 16-year-old-boy syndrome to respond to her (tho he finally gets his head on somewhat right in the next scene) so he just stares at her and takes the scolding wondering how things got this bad when all he had done was care and love and yearn for Lucy (can’t you see his heart clawing out of his chest to get to her)

Also I think it’s so hilarious that in the scene in the top gif he’s talking to lucy aka the very person that has him BOOKED AND BUSY with longing 😭😭

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sooo, I have a thought from an ask i saw about yandere beasts towards the ancients...

What if the Beasts became yandere towards YOU instead?

Although, the Ancients have the same feeling too, which may lead to high tensions in the air.

What would YOU in that scenario?

-A Self-Aware/Yandere lover Anon

Wait, me? Me specifically? Merchant? The person answering this ask? That's certainly an interesting thought...

If the Beasts became yanderes towards me, then I would fucking panic lol. I don't condone this kind of behavior irl, it's fun to write fictional crazy people but nobody wants to endure ACTUAL crazy people. Stalkers are sick and dangerous and need to be put away, and it's a damn shame it's not taken seriously by law enforcement anywhere (not until it escalates to violence, anyway, unfortunately)

With that said, let's terrorize Merchant for a little bit

IF THE BEASTS ARE STILL JUST COOKIES:

Step on them immediately, they're like 3 inches tall wait, would that work? They have powers and are crazy strong. What can they actually do against humans? Would stepping on them just break my fucking foot?

Send my dog after them no wait, I don't want them to hurt my dog. I love my dog very much. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'd never forgive myself if I let him try to eat them and he just got turned into flour or something

Pour milk on them ONE OF THEM IS MADE OF MILK ALREADY GODDAMN IT

Hide the box of cookies I like to get from the store, because they probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that I love to eat cookies (they're just like this 🍪 but still)

Try to trap them in the fridge momentarily, hope they don't destroy my nice fridge

Make a deal where they are allowed to live in and explore my house provided they damage nothing and hurt no one

Give them head scratches (especially Spice, his head looks Very Scratchable)

Give them tiny little kisses if they behave themselves (however, if I give one a kiss, I have to give them ALL kisses, or else the other 4 will retaliate against me out of jealousy)

I will also allow them to sit on my shoulders if they behave themselves and don't try to yank on my hair or my ears or something

Wait, do cookies know what sex is? Are they capable of sexual feelings? If so, how do they deal with them? Do they have the... equipment for that? WHAT IF THEY TRY TO HUMP MY FINGERS OR SOMETHING OH GOD-

Contact federal authorities and hope that they believe me when I say superpowered talking cookies are in my house, so they can come take them away and perhaps experiment on them

Probably never sleep again because there's a batch of little satanic cookies in my house that all want to fuck me for some reason (I'm ugly and a normie, wtf did I do to deserve this 💀)

IF THE BEASTS ARE HUMAN:

immediate death

panic x10000000000

I hc Spice as being at least 6'5''/198cm and 200+/90+ lbs/kg so I'm cooked 7 ways to Sunday just with him

Seriously I'm just a short nerd irl. Assuming they still have their powers, my life is literally over

Do everything in my power to convince them all my loved ones are dead so they don't go harm them out of jealousy (ESPECIALLY my SO, God have mercy, I'll probably have to tell him to go hide in his home country for a while)

Try to barricade myself in a church, hope that the "demons cannot set foot on hallowed ground/in God's house" rule applies to them, beg God to save my sorry ass while they try to break in and drag me back out

Can't call the cops because A) stalking and harassment are not taken seriously by police, B) they won't believe me when I say that 5 supervillains are trying to kidnap and marry me, C) by the time they realize I'm telling the truth, they will already have been hanged/put into a coma/beheaded/turned to flour/cut up into salt cubes

I actually only like men irl so I am in deep trouble with Flour and Sugar especially

Try to flee the country (probably won't work but I'll try anyway and hope they don't get too mad about it), hide out in the Yukon or some bumfuck nowhere village in Russia, I'd rather face a polar bear than these guys

Probably still be forced to let them live in my house in exchange for peace and obedience

...I don't know if tiny head scratches and kisses would cover it this time

Hope that they're all possessive enough to only harass me one at a time, instead of... more than one at a time, because that counts as sharing and yanderes don't really like doing that

Try to pit them against each other constantly. If they're too focused on arguing about who I belong to or whatever, then they can't focus on tormenting me

Would like to try to stab or shoot them but idk if conventional weaponry works on them at all

If I HAD TO pick one to say yes to, it would be Burning Spice. He is sexy af. Then, hopefully, I can weaponize this and get him to defend me from the others

IF THE ANCIENTS LIKED ME TOO, BUT WERE NORMAL:

Yay, sanity. I'll tell them to PLEASE get the Beasts away from me. They can sort out whatever they feel towards me later, we've got a bigger problem on our hands than that

COOKIES: I will keep them safe in my house under the same conditions as the Beasts: behave and do not harm anyone or anything

HUMANS: Look, can I just... send them back? How did any of these guys get here, anyway? Can I please just shove them back through the portal or whatever they used to get here? Even if I wasn't taken, I don't think I'd have the strength or patience to put up with anyone's shit. Can we just be friends? I'd love to be friends. I need a mom friend like Hollyberry in my life

If necessary, I am picking Dark Cacao. Seriously, I love my big, strong men. Merchant is a basic bitch at heart lol

IF THE ANCIENTS WERE YANDERES TOO:

Are you fucking kidding me

Am still picking Cacao, fuck all of you

[redroomreflections]

When in Bloom

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

10/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 7.9k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)

Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.

In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nicky—he was still too young to understand, and she didn’t want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasn’t a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.

She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her with—it was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.

"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.

"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.

"I can't do the knots, they're too small."

Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"

"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.

"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.

"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.

"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We'll see," she answered.

"It's a promise!" He said.

"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."

Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. She’d promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.

Okoye: "Natasha, we’re seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think it’s Barton."

Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this time—he’s not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."

She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Barton’s brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knew—Clint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.

Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.

"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.

"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.

"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."

"The Avenger kind of case?"

"Exactly the kind," she nodded.

"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"

"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."

Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.

Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what you’re in the mood for."

They’d only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.

She hadn’t told Nora much about her past or work—what she could share, anyway—but Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.

Natasha quickly typed back:

Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Let’s catch up."

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.

"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.

"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.

"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."

"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"

He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.

This was their normal.

********

The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.

It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.

The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadn’t known she needed until she found it again.

She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.

When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.

Today, she'd danced.

Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.

The music started with a quiet melody.

Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.

Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.

The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too long—it was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.

The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?

Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.

Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.

A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.

The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.

There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.

Her mind wandered, remembering how you’d looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldn’t.

Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through it—she always had.

But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasn’t there, that it didn’t eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.

*********

Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.

The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.

Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."

Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him she’d be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.

Carol’s voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."

Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss was—this endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. She’d stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channel’s always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me." She said.

One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what he’d say before he even started.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."

Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.

"It’s definitely Barton," Rhodey said.

The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldn’t pull him back from—not yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. She’d been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadn’t noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.

"What he’s done here...what he’s been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn’t want to find him." Rhodey continued.

Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.

"Find out where he’s going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.

Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."

She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.

Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.

"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.

"And see a friend," he replied.

She forced a small smile. "Your friend’s fine."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"

"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."

"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than I’ve ever seen them."

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. "Guess nature’s making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someone’s doing alright."

They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.

"How’s Nicky?"

Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.

"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "He’s asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."

Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "He’s smart, like his mom."

She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like he’s a lot like you."

She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "He’s everything we hoped he’d be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if he’s too gentle for this world. For what’s left of it, anyway."

A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.

"He’s got you to look out for him. And you’re both stronger than you think."

Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."

After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.

"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."

Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"

"Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," he replied quietly.

The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.

She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."

Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.

"And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be... better."

Steve’s expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."

She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."

He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"

Natasha’s face shifted, her smile fading. "It’s nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."

A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.

"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."

"That's the difficult part," She nodded.

They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all they’d lost and the people who weren’t there to share it with them anymore.

Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.

Scott Lang’s face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luis’s old van parked behind him.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?”

Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. “This an old message?”

Natasha shook her head, stunned. “It’s the front gate.”

********

Vormir

Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.

They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.

"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.

Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."

"I don’t think technically he’s a raccoon..." Clint grinned.

"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.

For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldn’t. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.

"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.

"Creepy," Clint commented.

"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."

"Creepier." He murmured.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked.

"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."

Their journey ended here.

********

"If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.

Clint’s face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew what’s been weighing on both of them.

"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"

There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.

"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.

"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."

"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.

Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.

Suddenly she was alone.

"You think this is the end of your choice? I think you’ll find... it’s just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.

"What the hell," She cried out.

Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.

"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.

"You’ve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so great—perhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"

"I offer you a choice—one you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.

"What’s your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"

"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.

Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the same—soft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.

"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.

Natasha’s heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.

"I don’t... I don’t understand. How—how are you here? You... you’re—"

But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.

"Where is Mommy?" She asked

"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.

"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.

"Stella..." Natasha began.

Natasha’s world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?

But the reality of her daughter, there—now—overpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her child’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.

"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."

She rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.

"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginning—a second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."

Natasha’s breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"

"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. You’ll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. You’ll forget this life, your memories, your loved ones—your daughter. You will be someone else."

"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"

"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.

"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I don’t even get to remember the people I’ve fought for, the ones I’ve sacrificed everything for. You’re telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."

"You will gain something more valuable—freedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."

Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought for—the memories, the bonds she’s built, especially with her daughter—twisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.

"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... What’s the difference? Isn’t it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.

"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."

A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directions—back toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.

"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? What’s the point of living again if I can’t remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"

"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."

"I don’t want to forget... I don’t want to forget her. I can’t." Her voice broke. She was crying now.

"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."

"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"

Red Skull’s gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.

"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."

The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choice—die and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.

Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.

"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"

“No,” he replied, his voice cold but edged with something else—something ancient. “Not everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weight—those whose sacrifices have been… significant. You’ve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.”

Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this… this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.

Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?

“Why me?” Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “Why offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others who’ve given everything… so why now?”

Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. You’ve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.”

Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.

Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnate—what happens to them? To Clint, to my team… my daughter?"

"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."

Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldn’t fathom.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."

"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.

"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.

Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.

"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.

*********

"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."

Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clint’s grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But this—this was something they hadn’t anticipated.

"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.

Clint’s shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nicky’s her son,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nat didn’t talk about him much… she didn’t want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but he’s… he’s still so young.”

“Are you telling us that Nat… that she left behind a child?” Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “She did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason she…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. “A mother’s sacrifice… to protect her child,” he murmured almost reverent.

"Children," Tony supplied.

"What?" Clint looked at Tony.

"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."

Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. “And now he’s alone. She’s gone, and he’s got no one.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. “Who’s going to be there for him? Who’s going to tell him why his mom never came back?”

Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder, his eyes sincere. “Then we’ll be there for him,” he promised. “If Natasha’s son needs family, he’s got us. Whatever he needs—support, protection, anything.”

Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. “We owe her that much. And I’ll ensure he knows exactly who his mother was—a warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.”

That landed heavily among all of them.

*********

You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natasha—your Natasha—sounded absurd. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Not her.

You’d spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next… nothing. It wasn’t like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didn’t exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldn’t yet wrap your mind around.

Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy you’d kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years you’d missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.

In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.

And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.

It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.

So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didn’t need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.

And then you looked at your children—two pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.

That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. You’d barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.

They sat before you now in Tony’s lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairs—the Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.

"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."

Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.

"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."

You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.

"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"

"Is Mama... is she coming back?"

You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."

He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.

"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said softly.

You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.

"Baby, you alright?" You asked.

"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces.

"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."

"Where is she?"

"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."

"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.

"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."

"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"

You tried to blink away the tears forming.

"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."

"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."

"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."

Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.

Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.

*********

Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natasha’s stories—a reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.

Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natasha’s favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.

As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didn’t know who you were; they didn’t know Natasha’s family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.

Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boy’s sadness.

"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."

Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.

"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."

Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.

You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gently—it was your turn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.

"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."

"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."

Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.

"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."

You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.

"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."

The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.

"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."

*********

It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natasha’s life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.

At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natasha’s SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasn’t as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.

You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harder—that was the home you had chosen together. You’d have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.

Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.

“No, I’m the big sister!” Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.

You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Stella, honey, you’re not the big sister anymore. Nicky’s older than you.”

Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. “But I feel like the big sister!”

You laughed softly. “I know, sweetie. But it doesn’t work that way.”

Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. “Look, Mama! Another moving truck!”

You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natasha’s SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.

"Excuse me, I have a m—" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.

The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Hey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Kelly. Just moving in next door.”

You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. We’re actually moving in too. Guess we’re going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"

"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."

You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "

Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."

fin