#his eyes becoming larger and larger

[carefulfears]

we've both talked about how scully isn't jealous fire. what differences do you see between protective scully vs jealous scully?

yeah to me the main difference is that one is more external and the other internal. she gets very emotional when she’s jealous. in episodes like alpha (literally sitting that woman down and going “i’m watching you.” cracks me tf up. Dana nobody is taking your man.) and war of the coprophages, it’s kind of angry. it’s louder, but still something very vulnerable and true to her (hater-ism). in episodes like the end, it’s heartbreak. that’s one of the very few episodes where i think she was purely jealous, and sad. she usually understands what’s going on and i think she knew as soon as she heard him call diana by her first name that something was going to change. i think it hurt her feelings, that specific display of connection, usually reserved for her.

when she’s jealous she retreats. she watches quietly. she cries alone in her car. she needs a moment to herself.

it’s when she’s protective that you can’t shake her for anything. one of my favorite images in fire is her standing in the doorway while mulder and phoebe meet with the arson specialist. i didn’t even notice she was there the first time i saw it. she wasn’t invited. she’s just keeping watch. later, she’s standing in the hallway. after that, she’s in his hotel room, and doesn’t leave when phoebe comes in. says “are you okay?” the moment they’re alone.

people write off her behavior in this one as being “jealous” because she has a lil crush and there’s another woman there, but i honestly find that dismissive. sometimes people discuss scully through such a wide lens, not taking into account who she is. she’s really surprised throughout the time that phoebe was there. it’s that soft edge that still shocks to cruelty, that she never really loses. it’s what shocks in the pilot when the doctor hits mulder twice. what shocks in the following episode when the government agents punch him on the side of the road. (look at you you’ve radicalized scully). it’s what makes her wary of jerry lamana, even before he stole mulder’s work.

but phoebe is so cruel, and so personal, and has so much history. it’s not jealousy that makes scully linger in doorways. it’s not jealousy that spawns that folie a deux. no one else understands. no one else can be trusted. (which i do kind of think started in fire, i’ve said before). she isn’t jealous that he startles when he hears this woman’s voice.

and i know that’s a lot on phoebe as an example, but it doesn’t stop. she doesn’t stop keeping watch. she doesn’t stop shocking to cruelty. she’ll get loud. she’ll make plans. she’ll surprise herself. and it doesn’t come with jealousy’s mortifying intimacy.

(don’t have much else to say but i found this from an old post of mine and wanted to share: “scully has that kind of protectiveness towards him that you have towards a child that hasn't been touched by the world yet. it's very 'the world is at least half terrible, though i keep this from my children.’ 'good bones' by maggie smith. scully in the beginning is like......there is something here that should have broken by now. and she wants to watch him be able to walk into every room with the most hopeful answer and a hand out to every stranger.”)

she shares him with the world only reluctantly, Etc etc

[dxxtruction]

Louis being compared to as a saint. Saints, who find their salvation and then give intercession from beyond that veil to move others towards it. A guide for life, where they no longer fall into their sins and trajectories towards a certain hell. "Listen to me as if I am the voice of god, or an angel." Louis being that saintly catalyst for the vampires to confront themselves in that such a way. A saintly Louis is very dear to me.

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

the gravedigger and the nightingale

[lilikitsune18]

Why drawing a simple reference card is proving to be too hard for me to handle today

I should have never been given this much power @neodracunyan

[wifeguycyclonus]

Orion Pax is naive, he’s just not naive the way ppl seem to think he is

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

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KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[sttm99]

Based on this story by @kumimi3

Prohero!Katsuki, who's modelling for Calvin Klein. Who's seen you in some magazines, commercials, or fashion blogs and hasn't ever paid much interest. There's something about media that diminishes beauty, such that a pretty face becomes mundane when on television.

So he doesn't care much until he sees you for the first time during a shoot.

And he thinks you're absolutely unreal.

You're beautiful, in a way that has people unable to look away, as if something will happen the moment their eyes leave you.

There is no camera in the world that does you justice, and annoyingly, it has him sweating a bit when you're close, your torso leaning on him.

"Stand over there," the photographer says, instantly ushering you to step over to Bakugo.

"We're just gonna get some shots in before your solos, YN." The photographer tells you. "Stand closer to Bakugo."

The shoot takes longer than what he's used to. It dragged on, with the photographer intent in getting you in every single position he could come up with.

"You're his muse," Bakugo hears one of the makeup artists say. "He's practically enamoured."

'She's beautiful, though... I would be, too,' he thinks.

The shoot ends, and he's already researching your name and company while in the car on the way back. He's consuming information about you rapidly, measurements and backstories, your agency and your nationality, your pictures.

In about two months or so, you're booked to model some line of merchandise for one of the larger Hero Agencies in Japan. You're sitting against a backdrop, moving through accessories and black pieces of clothing, all with a similar orange cross over the chest.

When you're changing, redoing your hair and makeup, one of the stylists whispers to you.

"Are you two close? Is that why he was so adamant about you?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking at her through the mirror. "What?"

She blinks at you, "He refused anyone else. Told them it was you or nothing. Just you."

You paused. You had only just recently moved down to Japan for work, and you were still just an upcoming face. You didn't know anyone influential in the field other than the photographer from some months ago, and he hadn't mentioned it.

"Who?"

The girl looks at you, then shrugs over to the door, where a guy you recognise is talking to the photographer. He's familiar, and it takes a moment before you remember he's the guy you did your Calvin Klein shoot with.

"Who is he?" You murmur, and the hair stylist and the makeup artist look at you like you're crazy.

"Bakugo Katsuki? Dynamight?"

"The Dynamight?" Your voice goes down to a whisper as shock fills you. You're looking at the makeup artist with wide, disbelieving eyes, and she's looking at you like the same way.

"Duh? You didn't know what he looked like?"

"I-" You stammer, trying not to give into the urge to turn back and stare at him. "I only just moved here.... I'm not too familiar with Japanese heroes.

The girl snorts. "Well, it looked like you're gonna be very familiar with Dynamight."

You turn back slowly but find that he's already looking at you.

[whumpster-fire]

Broke: Chilchuck Tims is child coded.

Woke: Chilchuck Tims isn't child coded, he's a middle-aged, divorced man with grown up children.

Bespoke: Chilchuck Tims cannot be accurately described as either "child coded" or "not child coded" because he is a deliberate commentary on the idea of "child coding" itself.

Chilchuck, and half-foots in Dungeon Meshi in general, are given significantly more neotenous proportions and appearances (e.g. larger heads and eyes, rounder faces) than the other races. This is not universal for depictions of hobbits / halflings in Tolkien / D&D inspired fantasy fiction. Compare Chilchuck relative to the "tallmen" (humans) in Dunmeshi to how small races are drawn in something like Legend of Vox Machina (many of those characters are gnomes but whatever) or in basically any official D&D art. It was an intentional artistic decision to make him look like that. This is reinforced when he's temporarily transformed into a tallman (human) and in addition to becoming much taller he gains features that make him look more visibly middle-aged (stubble, eye bags / wrinkles, a more oval face) that he doesn't have as a half-foot. See also Marcille's transformed form and supplemental drawings of what all of the main party would look like as other races. However they do NOT look indistinguishable from actual children as portrayed by Dunmeshi's artstyle and have distinguishing features e.g. larger ears.

Chilchuck is frequently mistaken for a child in-universe, or treated / perceived as one even by members of other races who know he's a half-foot, and he hates this. His infantilization and that of half-foots in general isn't just a running gag, it's a significant plot point and source of discrimination. Like when the party gets impersonated by shapeshifters copying everyone based on the others' memories of them, and most of the Chilchuck clones look and behave more childish than the real one, and they almost get away with it, even though his party should know better than to think of him as a kid.

The narrative consistently takes the position that the people infantilizing Chilchuck are wrong, and are being ignorant/racist.

Conclusion: Chilchuck is definitely not "child-coded" in the way that a 700 year old shapeshifter that looks and behaves indistinguishably from a little kid for contrived reasons. However, he is intentionally designed to make it seem plausible for people who know he's an adult to still not fully believe it and this can make the viewers fall for it too. Which I guess is "child-coding" in a sense. But the message the work is trying to send is very clearly "Don't decide that grown-ass adults are equivalent to children and treat them like children because they have physical characteristics that remind you of a child you dipshit."

While hobbits aren't real and Chilchuck's traits that get him mistaken for a child are exaggerated compared to the vast, vast majority of real people, infantilization of grown-ass adults due to ableism, racism, or just people being dumbasses who forget short people exist is a real issue, and if you start shit with people for shipping Divorced Dad Chilchuck Tims with other characters or whatever you are displaying the exact attitude that's being criticized.

[coqvttes]

୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝DON'T BE GENTLE❞ ― KÖNIG.

― ꒰ SIZE KINK ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―

୨୧˚ synopsis: after begging your gentle giant of a lover, könig to go rough on you, he lets loose tonight and shows you just how strong he really is...

୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, manhandling, size kink, p in v, petnames, degradation, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!könig, creampie, teasing, hairpulling, dacryphilia?, roughness, spanking, slapping, aftercare, lmk if i forgot anything!

୨୧˚ wc: 1.4k

your jaw hangs open and your glossy eyes are practically rolling back into your head as he pounds into your sopping cunt mercilessly. plump tits bouncing freely with every harsh thrust of his, causing your thoughts to grow hazy and dumb. his large, rough palms are stretched out on both sides of you, his rough fingers digging into the mattress, keeping you caged beneath his much larger frame.

you try your best to focus on his burly figure above you, but you keep whining as your little cunt struggles to take all of him in. your eyes become squeezed shut, your head turning to the side as you grow lost in the overwhelming pleasure, but you're alerted by the sudden light slap on your cheek. you gasp at the contact and more tears spill from your eyes.

"wan' you to ruin me, könig! don't want you to be gentle", you had pleaded fluttering your lashes at him innocently. and that's how you end up like this. tiny body pinned down on his king-sized bed as he forces his massive dick inside of your needy little cunt. all your little brain can manage to think about is how big he is.

gosh, you've never felt so full with how he's meanly bullying his cock into your drooling cunt with no remorse whatsoever. your shaky little hands gripping onto his huge bulging biceps with so much strength that if were he another man, it would hurt — but no, he's könig of course.

your mind is void of coherent thoughts as all you can manage to do is moan delightedly, accepting all that he gives you. with his strong arms he moves both of your legs up to rest on his shoulders. a high-pitched pornographic moan slips from your lips as you get used to the new angle.

his thick cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you, encouraging hot tears to roll down your cheeks. your fingers slide up his toned abdomen, needing to feel anything and everything that's his. he takes in the sight of you beneath him and he almost feels bad for being so rough with you, but he keeps his composure.

with the lewd medley of the headboard banging into the wall, wet squelching, your sweet moans, and obscene skin-on-skin slapping noises, the sounds bouncing off the walls of your bedroom are purely sinful. creating a tune that he doesn't ever want to forget, and neither do you.

your watery innocent eyes plead with his own as if begging him to slow down. but no, the last thing you want him to do right now is slow down. shaky hands reach up to his broad shoulders, trying to hold onto him for purchase and your lips part as you try and push yourself up in a frantic attempt to kiss him.

your body desperately yearning for his gentle touch in contrast to his brutal movements. you're relieved he begins to lean down, his lips merely inches away from your own, but he doesn’t kiss you. you let out a pitiful whine and he almost laughs at you with how pathetic you’re being.

in a single moment, with little effort, he cruelly pulls out of your warmth, flipping you over onto your tummy. you squeal at how easy it is for him to manhandle you around into different positions that suit his liking. you hate to admit that his strength alone turns you on so much. before you can complain to him, he’s pushing into you again, picking up on the brutal pace as if nothing had happened.

"du bettelst immer darum, gefickt zu werden, nicht wahr, kleine schlampe?" he snarls, snapping his hips against yours. (always begging to get fucked aren't you, little slut)

pathetic moans and cries spill from your lips into the sheets as he pounds into you mercilessly, his calloused palms gripping onto your hips so tight you’ll probably have bruises in the morning.

"du magst es, wenn ich dich eine schlampe nenne hm, dirty girl?" his rough movements are relentless as he makes no effort to slow down. (you like it when i call you a slut hm, dirty girl)

your mewls are muffled by the bed and he's having none of it. he raises his hand slightly before bringing it back down, spanking you. you lunge forward from the sensation. he then pulls your head up from the mattress by your hair, but not too hard, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“say it.” he punctuates each of his words with a harsh thrust.

“y-yes! i love it—mmm!” you blubber out desperately, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you for dear life. he lets go of your hair and you can practically hear his satisfied smirk as his thrusts grow stronger, deeper and faster, rutting into you like an animal. you take it like a good girl, his good girl as if you were made for him. 

he applies just enough pressure with his palm pressing down on your lower back that makes you arch just perfectly. his rough palms kneading into your arse whilst you let him use you as he pleases.

just as you feel your climax approaching, he stops thrusting, hot tears spill down your cheeks as your fists bunch up the sheets beneath you. your weeping cunt clenches around him, dragging a gluttonous groan from his mouth. he leans down, pressing his chest to your back, his lips lingering just by your ear.

“say please, schatz,” you just know he’s grinning evilly behind you and you lose all sense of self-respect, just wanting to cum so bad.

“p-please! wanna cum please, i’ll be good!”

satisfied with your answer he gives you no warning as he slips back into you with ease, the wetness of your cunt sucking him in making it easy for him to thrust into you. you slowly feel your knees starting to give out, but thats not a problem, he holds you up easily and you feel your muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm approaching.

the sounds of his grunting, the squelching noises from your cunt, and the tingling in your core cause your mind to go numb and your body to spasm as you cum around him with a high-pitched cry, collapsing into the bed.

he follows moments after you, driving into you a few more times before his hips stutter as he releases inside of you, making you feel full and warm with him. as you catch your breath, his fingers, now gentle, run up and down your back tenderly in a soothing motion.

“was i too mean to you, schatz?” his voice is different now, it’s genuine and caring. he pulls out of you slowly, gently turning you over so he can see your pretty face. you shake your head and tug him down for a kiss. you sigh into his lips, finally getting a taste of his lips that you'd been yearning for the whole night. 

"i'll be right back, liebling." pulling away from you, he smiles down at your post-euphoric state. sliding off of the bed, he slips his briefs back on and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning with a playful grin.

slipping into your warm embrace, he wastes no time in cradling you in his brawny arms. you almost laugh at his switch of character, how he was just moments earlier, fucking your brains out and now he's picking you up in his arms like his sweetheart. supporting you from under your knees and arms, he carries you to the bathroom, you smile fondly at the sight of a warm bath ready just for you.

he carefully lowers you down into the porcelain tub and you exhale contently as your sore body makes contact with the warm temperature of the bathwater along with the sweet smell of your lavender soap, and the gentle touch of könig's palm as he strokes your blushing cheek tenderly.

and after a few heartbeats of watching you bathe, he just can't help himself before getting into the tub behind you, the water splashing everywhere as his much larger body envelopes yours. pulling your bare back flush against his chest, your frame now trapped in his loving embrace. in that moment you just know, he'll always care for you, your one and only könig.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[etheries1015]

Imagining Malleus is going through his heat cycle, and finds himself needing to be guided through the motions by none other than Lilia, of course. His subject? You.

(18+ minors DNI. Afab reader, fem pronouns.) this ones for you, bestie @masquerade-of-misery <3 live laugh love "threesomnia" LMAOOO

How you came into this predicament will be far beyond you. How you were now stripped bare by a hungry Draconic Fae, with your bare back pressed up against Lilias's chest, holding you in his grasp with his hands coming around to play with your sensitive mounds. His hands gently groped your tender breasts, flicking a finger over your hard nipples and pinching them at just the right pressure. Your back arched against his touch and a small and yearning moan elicited from your lips, Malleus looking down at you with a flushed face with his tongue licking his dry and hungry lips. Lilia chuckled at Malleus's eager display.

"It depends on the person," Lilia pointed out as if giving some sort of classroom lecture to the black-haired male, "Sensitivity of the breasts isn't uncommon. However, it seems our prefect here may need a little more than simple foreplay of the bosom to feel satisfied..." He rolled your nipples in his fingers and used the bulk of his palm to give a little squish to your breast, your breath becoming ragged as you melted into his touch, holding back a moan from the back of your throat. Lilia smiled at your rather simple reaction, before eyeing the shirtless fae that loomed over you. Malleus gave him a confused look before Lilia grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Encouraging him to move in the way Lilia had, Malleus placed his much larger and dexterous fingers against your soft skin. His movements were much more uncertain, slow, and passionate versus the older fae whose touch left you thinking about the surprising amount of skill he had and the ability to understand your body the moment his fingers touched your skin. As Malleus gently kneaded your breasts with caution, you were shocked when suddenly you felt sharp teeth dig into the crook of your neck. You let out a yelp of surprise mixed with a moan that sounded rather confused and high-pitched- even your body at odds with the pleasure of your chest and the now throbbing of your neck. Malleus looked up in concern at this, almost glaring daggers at the other fae as if to ask; 'what did you do?'

"The neck," Lilia purred into your ear nibbling the lobe, "Is a rather sensitive spot for humans...biting it is also seen as a form of possessiveness, in both Fae and Human mating. Interesting, no?" Lilia smiled mischievously as he playfully licked the wound he had left, your body shivering at the wet muscle that scaled from the base of your neck before teasing its way to your jawline. Malleus eyed the cheeky fae that held you in his arms, before heading his mentor's words and leaning over to take his place between the other side of your neck. Lilia moved your hair to the side to allow Malleus easier access to mark your neck, his hands continuing his relentless motions on your chest. It seemed he had gotten rather carried away, for you winced in pain and exclaimed "Ow!" when Malleus's nail ended up scratching your nipple. He pulled away, looking at you in worry and quickly removing his hands from your body. Lilia chuckled at this, a seemingly common pastime for him at this point.

"Humans are delicate," Lilia said to Malleus almost to chastise him for his mistake, "Make sure she is alright, and then continue forward. You need to think what each of your body parts are doing, and adapt accordingly." Malleus's eyes caught yours.

"Are you alright, child of man?" He cooed gently, his honey-deep voice immediately setting aside any uneasiness you may have felt. You gave him a nod and the okay to continue, Lilia whispering "Good girl," In your ear before his hands snaked down to the bottom half of your body, also bare for the two men to be witness to. Your legs were closed the time they were experimenting with your breast and higher extremities, Lilia used a skilled hand to open your knee and allow your legs to spread in front of the draconic fae. Malleus stared down at your dripping cunt, taking notice of the slick that glistened around your hole. The growing bulge of his pants became much more apparent as it grew in size, practically begging to be freed from the confines of the fabric he so frustratingly wanted to be released from.

Lilias hand snaked down from your inner thigh to place two fingers over your folds and spread them apart, making the wetness between your legs much more apparent for Malleus to see. You instinctively felt a jolt of pleasure at such a simple touch, your legs almost snapping shut if it wasn't for Malleus quickly using his hands to force your legs apart. Lilias eyes cocked in surprise at this action, his lips curling in a coy smile before resuming his "lecture."

"Human women have their own lubricating system. When they are aroused, they produce this-" He used two of his fingers to rub a few lines from the pearl of your cunt and entrance, holding them up to show off the glistening clear substance that now covered his fingers. "This is how they prepare to take the male in." Malleus watched earnestly with rosy cheeks, almost drooling at the simple idea that you were ready to take him in. Taking this point as the next step, Malleus began to unbuckle his belt to release him of his constricting confines. Your eyes widened at this, and Lilia 'tsked' at this, shaking his head. Malleus looked up in mild annoyance at the red eyed fae.

"Although she produced her own lubricant," Lilia pointed out, "We still must make sure it's safe for her to take you. You must prepare her, first." Malleus furrowed his eyebrows at this, sitting back slightly holding back a growl of impatience.

"Does her body not automatically prepare her for such actions? Is that not the purpose of the lubricant?" Malleus inquired. Lilia shook his head and gently rubbed your thigh, as if thanking you for your patience.

"I understand your impatience, Malleus. But you must understand, despite the lubricant, we want to avoid any injury that may occur for being ill-prepared for the size in which she is to take. To prevent tearing or pain, it's best to prepare her first in order to stretch her out to better take you in. Especially in your case, since most human males only have one." You started at this sudden statement, looking back between the two men bewildered.

"O-one? What do you mean by that?" Lilia looked at you with eyes wide with confusion.

"Hm? I thought you were aware? Draconic fae actually has two phalluses. One is for keeping the entrance of their mate open, while the other is to push their seed in for breeding. Although...it would be in your benefit to start with one at first, to ease you into it." Your face fell at this information, looking back at Malleus with your eyes wavering in concern. Malleus leaned over you, using a hand to place upon your cheek and stroke it gently, his emerald green eyes glowing with lust and affection for you.

"Do not worry," Malleus cooed with his words of honey, "I will be sure to prepare you as Lilia instructs." Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and tilted your head back. Malleus planted a gentle kiss against your forehead before returning back to his original position, awaiting patiently for Lilias's next set of instructions. Lilia continued to hold you against his chest, looking at Malleus from behind your slightly trembling body. The trembling was out of slight fear of the possibility of two fitting inside of you, yet it seemed all the more tantalizing and exciting at the same time...

"Now Malleus," Lilia continued his instruction, his hands trailing back down to your folds using two fingers to caress your pearl in a mix of circular and vertical movements, teasing the inside of your hole with only the tip of his fingertips, not quite indulging into it. you whined and found yourself moving your hips in the hope of more friction, for the bat's touch was light and you felt yourself become impatient. Lilia ignored your feeble movements and continued to explain as if you weren't so needlingly begging for more. "Start with one finger, and when you feel it enough, you can continue to add more. You will be able to tell she's ready by how much she can take of your fingers without feeling too tight." Lilia suddenly pushed two fingers at once inside of you, urging Malleus forward. He watched eagerly as a satisfied hum escaped your lips, your body arching ever so slightly as Lilia massaged the inside of your hole skillfully with his fingers. All at once and far too soon for your liking, Lilia removed his fingers, your slick completely covering them. "Now, you try. Move them like this-" The red eyed fae gave a demonstration to the horned male, malleus nodding before following instruction.

Malleus was much more clumsy when it came to such acts, you could feel it in the way his fingers stiffly entered you with very little fluid movement.

"curl your fingers gently and move upward. Feel how she tightens around your fingers when you do it correctly?" you had to admit, hearing Lilia talk about you in such a blunt manner about the ways in which your body reacted was enough to make your entire face red. Yet, the wetness down below was far more prominent with every word he spoke. Once he was able to add another two fingers, Malleus pulled out leaving you empty once more. He admired his fingers that were covered in your substance, before staring you directly in the eyes and using his tongue to lap up your wetness from his fingers. You weren't sure you could possibly become any more flustered than you already were, yet it seemed possible with every new action both of the men took. Deciding you had been stretched out enough, Lilia had given Malleus the okay to the next step.

The tall male stood up and unbuckled his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the ground and removing his boxers allowing his cocks to be seen by your mesmerized eyes. You watched in anticipation as he shuffled back in front of you on his knees, your eyes never leaving the sheer length and girth that he had been hiding all this time.

"remember what I said earlier," Lilia said, using his hand to pull your legs apart further, "Humans are incredibly delicate. If you are not careful when breeding, you could harm your mate. Enter her slowly..." Lilias fingers snaked back down to your folds and once again used his skilled hand to pull them apart, Malleus pumping the top of the two cocks a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. Lilias fingers remained spreading you apart as he talked Malleus through every inch, yet the second the head of his cock penetrated you, you couldn't help but suck in air and almost pull back.

"t-too.. too big..!" You whined, Lilia hushing you gently and planting a kiss upon your cheek. Malleus leaned forward and groaned, his cock throbbing in desire to bury deep inside you. As you were taking inches of Malleus, you couldn't help but notice something hard poke at your bare back, like cloth that was rubbing against your skin. Lilia was hard. You hadn't the chance to speak up about it before the older fae ignored his obvious 'issue' and continued to coach Malleus through the motions.

"Let her adjust," Lilia said to the black-haired male, "(y/n), Tell him when you're ready to take more. And if it is too much to bear, speak your mind." Lilias's words were kind and gentle, his lips pressing against the lobe of your ear before biting down. After a few moments of adjusting to Malleus's size, you gave him the okay as Lilia guided him deeper inside of you.

"So tight and wet," Malleus let out a deep primal growl from the back of his throat as he was able to finally fully engulf himself in your warmth, "So warm...ah.." groaning while leaning forward and biting the crook of your neck, Malleus found himself trying to push deeper and deeper inside of you. Tears pricked the side of your eyes at the number of stimuli you were receiving, Lilia took notice and moved your head to face him kissing the tears away from your cheeks. "There...Good girl. You're taking him so well, aren't you?" He purred, trailing kisses from your cheeks to your jawline, and from your jawline moving his teeth to graze against the other side of your neck. Once fully adjusted, Malleus began to go at a steady pace with moans of pleasure escaping his lips.

It wasn't long before he was fucking you relentlessly out of pure primal instinct, the room full of wet sounds of skin slapping against each other and moaning. Sweet moans that left your lips with one man penetrating you and the other sneaky hands roaming your body. Lilia used one hand to grope your breast and play with your hardened nipples while the other moved down to your clit and rubbed circles around it leading you closer and closer to your release. You could feel the bubbling pit of your stomach as your walls clenched around Malleus's cock and your back arched, a loud desperate moan slipping from your lips and your body trembling with ecstasy. At the same time, you felt Malleus twitch inside of you, with ropes of cum painting your swollen insides white. Your body went limp against Lillia's chest, panting roughly as the Draconic fae removed himself from the warmth of your cunt. Lilia used his thumb to pull open your swollen hole, watching as Malleus's thick seed pooled out of your twitching entrance. As Lilia sang your praises, Malleus leaned forward and kissed your forehead gently, you taking notice that he was still as hard as he had started.

"Seeing how well both of you did," Lilia smiled, "shall we try using the second one, next?"

You surely weren't going to be pulled away yet, not until Briar Valley had another heir on the way <3

[merakidoll]

this is apart of my pen pal!gojo series! warnings : nickname gogo used, riding, lactation, reader is pregnant, chubby, and a bimbo!

over the year that gojo was released from prison, your penpal quickly became your boyfriend, to now fiancé/ baby daddy! gojo was very quick with impregnating you loving how this sealed your fate to him, how now you had absolutely no excuse to be his. “go! let’s get ice cream!” you exclaimed pointing towards the small stand that had a young man standing there. he walked stiffly behind you, his much larger hand holding yours as he stood back holding your tote, and watching as you told the man exactly what you wanted.

gojo had found that with his obsession came lots of observing. he watched the man eye your large breast as he scoop the strawberry delight into the cone, his hand subconsciously pushing towards you more and wrapping around your belly. “so, what brings you here” gojo couldn’t hide the scoff that came from him, in his mind he was telling the man off, to which he knew you hated when he was rude to people.

you looked back at the large man with a pout, a soft ‘calm down i’m yours’, then turned back with a soft smile. “i wanted to see all the tables people had, we love small festivals!” you took your ice cream and handed him the bill expecting him to take it, but gojo knew he wasn’t - he knew he was gonna touch your hand, - caress your brown skin and tell you “it’s on the house gorgeous”.

now, gojo had many plans come that night. him pulling you away from the festival and to the car quickly driving home - to which he would be fuming. and the only thing that could ever calm him was you. “gogo, you’re all that m-matters to me” your pussy wrapped deliciously around him, your small bounces while he sucked on your leaking breast, crystal blue eyes shut and savoring all of your bodily flavor. he unlatched his salivating mouth and looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“only mine?” he bucked into your cunt, spreading your cheeks and bringing his mouth back to your brown nipple that to his eyes were screaming for attention. “o-only yours gojo, my sweet b-boyymm” at the sound of your words gojo’s angry vanished. the milk from your breast was already sizzling the fire within; but your words made him melt into a puddle. you bounceed on him, letting him hear all of your pretty sounds and the feeling of you pussy tighten around him as you came. “who’s pussy doll?” he slapped your ass, watching your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head. stimulation of him still moving as you orgasmed making you go wild.

“y-yours! y-yours gojo!” he smiled sisterly, bucking into you more, laying your head on his broad shoulder as he rubbed your back filling your pussy with his thick seamen. “mmh, and this dick is all yours baby.” he kissed your cheek becoming still and enjoying the closeness of cockwarming. he ignored the way your pussy dripped down onto him, the mix of you both combine. he enjoyed the soft snores you gave and deep sighs into the silence. all while his mind ran wild with thoughts. thoughts of when he put you into your sheared bed, after a nice bath how he’d be making a quick outing. to the man who deared try to flirt with you; especially in front of him.

[theglamorousferal]

The Anti-Ecto Acts have been repealed.

War with an infinite army of the dead and concepts of existence has been avoided.

Damian was glad. On opposite sides of the battlefield is not where he would have wished to reunite with his twin.

She was stubborn enough to become a ghost.

To have to face her, still so small, because she never had the chance to grow would have wrecked him. To have to explain to the family why he hesitated with that once ghost would have wrecked the rest of them too.

Damian was glad the war was averted. Maybe he could ask the ambassadors for the Infinite Realms to pass along a message to his sister’s spirit? Maybe he could help her find peace?

The five ambassadors were coming to the Watch Tower today, and Damian had convinced his father to let him come. He had agreed mostly because the five appeared to be around Damian’s age. This admittance had made Bruce’s mouth form a thin line of displeasure at the thought of young adults being the party chosen to speak on behalf of an entire dimension. Damian knew the displeasure is at the thought of the responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of ones so young, not at having to face younger people on even footing.

They had zeta’d in earlier that day and Robin was making use of one of the training rooms when Batman came to get him for the meeting. He will admit to himself that he was nervous about this meeting. He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask to send a message to his sister, but he did want to at least try.

The door to the larger meeting room swished open in front of him and he took a seat to Batman’s right. He sat there trying to collect his thoughts when he felt his hair stand on end more than usual. The temperature dropped and a bright green tear in reality formed at the other end of the room.

White fingered gloves appeared at the center of the tear and seemed to pull it wider, large enough for them to fit through with their armor. They floated about two feet off the ground and stood seven feet higher than that. They cast an eerie white glow and their eyes glowed the same bright green as the edges of the tear. Another being floated from the tear, this one just as tall with bright yellow eyes and a teal glow. Another wore a helmet to prevent anyone from seeing their eyes, but they had a red glow to them as they glided in on a hoverboard, they were still nearly six foot tall. The next was shorter, with a pair of goggles that glowed an unnatural blue and had glowing circuitry with hieroglyphics running along that arms. The last entity stepped out.

Damian knew that face. He had mourned it the last ten years.

Purple eyes, a genetic anomaly, but ones he would never forget. The same dark hair as him, thoughts flowed more like Mother’s. She had gained Father’s complexion, always fit to burn if out for too long.

There was just one thing. That face never reached that age. That face never grew to be a teenager, yet alone an adult. Why was this specter wearing his sister’s face?

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ imagining heian era! sukuna tending to his pregnant wife, and slowly warming up to having a child.

౨ৎ when he finds out you are pregnant, he goes full 'nonchalant, but worried husband' mode. he did not want kids. he thought they were lousy and annoying, and they would not bring any use to his bloodline. he told you that this would just get in his way, and that you should find a way to get rid of it. but the way you looked up at him with your adorable dazzling eyes? eh, he could make it work, just for you. but he found it hard to warm up to the idea of having children.

౨ৎ hires the best of the best to guarantee your health is in tact. doctors? you will have daily checkups, which included the doctor coming to the estate, and keeping track of your daily prgress while you are bedside. such as seeing if the baby is kicking, how large your stomach grows, and even recommending you a special diet to hold the nutrients for your baby. he is doing all of this for you, not that pesky baby. handmaidens? they will double in number. you are more fragile than ever, and in his eyes, you need all of the female support you can get that he cannot provide.

౨ৎ would host a grand babyshower. there would be hundreds, even thousands of guests at your babyshower. it would be hosted somewhere with a large, outside venue, bustling with people coming to support you. people would give you their blessings, hoping the best for the newcoming ryomen. gifts for the baby such as clothes, furniture, etc. and for you? people will gift you a plethora of things. jewelry, trinkets, and everything under the sun. the citizens of the nearby villages will bow to your feet, wishing you the best. your pregnancy will be treated as an event. around the villages, it will be talked about.

౨ৎ makes a extravagant nursery for your child. it will be in a large room, making extra space for your baby. sukuna will notice you spend alot of time there, watching you decorate the nursery to your pleasing day by day. liked seeing you struggle to put the furniture together, as you are forced to ask him for help, as you watch his assemble a bassinette. you could tell he was starting to get used to the idea of having a child around the estate. as you list off all of your ideas for how you would decorate, he liked to think you might be a suitable mother.

౨ৎ you held a giant journal of names, keeping track of each one as time goes by. you wrote in the journal with an ink pen, sometimes even letting sukuna in on the name choosing. as you sat on his lap in his large office, he would suggest 'little roach', or 'annoying brat' for some of the names, which was quickly shut down. you will think intently upon each name, asking sukuna on his opinion. sukuna thinks he should be the one naming the child, but with his suggestions, that will not be happening. you'd be better off asking some of your handmaidens for advice.

౨ৎ would ask any ladies in the estate for advice as well. this is something he thought he would never have to do. but he finds it difficult to ajust to your pregnancy, due to your influx in hormones, making you seem emotional all the time. would ask your handmaidens why you become so emotional, but they seem offended with the way he worded it. but they realize that sukuna is naturally brash, so they help him by giving him tips and tricks for fatherhood. he tries his best, mostly caring about what he thinks is best for you, not so much your child.

౨ৎ liked looking at your stomach more often than he thought he would. he never knew you would look so goddamn cute swollen with his child, but here he was, watching as you lay in bed, reading a book of poems, as he sees his future child kicking inside your uterus. you child was larger than an average one, he noticed, due to his abnormal genes. placing his large hand over your stomach, he could feel every single kick, asking you questions as it happens. "why does this brat kick so much? tell him to stop." "kuna, hes a baby..." "i do not care, he needs to learn to stop being so restless."

౨ৎ your delivery will send him into internal panic. he demands that he is in the room with you, holding your hand. but your large group of handmaidens by your side strongly disagree, reccomending that he let you be. but making sure you were okay was his top priority, so he stayed in the large bedroom where you gave birth. your head and body would be covered in towels, your hands tightly cuffing your handmaidens. it was extremely painful, as your screams could be heard from afar. but with the way sukuna had rubbed his thumb on your cheek, it made you feel slightly better. after you, he would be the first to hold your child, demanding so himself.

౨ৎ he wants a boy, 100%. he is hoping for a strong heir that can add onto his legacy, even though it isnt entirely necessary. if he ends up having a son, he will teach him the ways of manhood. teaching him how to hunt his own humans, how to properly court a lady (in his mind), and how to become as strong as him someday. and most of all, how to take care of his mother. he will not tolerate any disrespect towards you. he will call his son names like 'ryomen 2.0', or 'annoying rat'.

౨ৎ but if he gets a girl? he will be upset when he finds out. but he will come around to love her after quite a while. will go from calling her a nuisance, to hosting mini tea parties with her stuffed animals which were gifted by her auntie handmaidens, squeezing himself into a small chair at a small dining table with fake tea and pastries. he will truly care for his daughter, and will become extremely overprotective over her. he will call her 'little princess', or 'spoiled brat'.

౨ৎ enjoys watching you tend to your children. he secretly enjoyed the fact that he could call you 'the mother of his children'. being domestic with you is something he had never imagined in his life, but here he was, burping your small newborn over his shoulder with one hand. he likes to see the way your eyes light up when your child walks for the first time, or when they say their first words. he doesnt think it is important, but since its you, he doesnt say anything. "woman, what are you freaking out over?" "come quick! he just said 'papa'!" "i knew it, thats my child alright."

౨ৎ but he will absolutely refuse to change the babys diapers. do not ever ask him to do that, he will very rudely decline. bu dont worry. like everything else, he will come around to do so.