#tech hopefully will come back

[barissoffee]

there's only 8 episodes left of the bad batch final season

[pikslasrce]

im going to do it for real this time (drop out and get a job)

[stars-n-spice]

Younger brother said something absolutely foul...

Other brother: You ate? (<- surprised I ate lunch) Me: Yes. 😎 Younger Brother: Y'know what Tech ate? Me: Younger Brother: The floor. Me:

[xavieremix]

okay so the tags on that last post got me feeling those melon collies so i'm just gonna. tagdump in here. slightly sensitive topics? so uh. scroll down (or press J to jump to next post). or read my thoughts like the morning paper. sorry. cheers.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally. 

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 

“That was years ago—” 

“She has a key to your apartment—“ 

“So do you!” he glares. 

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 

You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 

One he couldn’t dare to cross. 

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 

Or at least, not his main problem. 

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 

That should have been his first clue. 

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping. 

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 

Fuck. 

No, he couldn’t. 

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Suguru, please—“ 

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 

What the fuck is going on? 

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 

“It’s not like you to call—“ 

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 

His phone buzzed with texts from you: 

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 

You: are you home? 

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 

Another knock. 

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 

“Suguru—“ 

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 

And he can’t hold back. 

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

[sukeruton-san]

Sorta Maybe Blind pt 2

First Next

It has been four hours since the initial discovery of his appearance and he's come to figure out it's not just that he looks like he'll kneel over and die with a small breeze but he feels like it too. side effects just keep coming!

Apparently his eyes are extremely sensitive to the light now. he opened them fully once and it hurt like hell, even with the smog. his internal temperature has always been a little bit on the cold side but now he feels like a freezer and his rugged t-shirt and jean combo is not helping. he's a little frustrated with how much he's shaking especially on his left side

Oh he thinks he forgot to mention that his left side now has a huge lichtenberg figure on it, starting from his hand going all the way up his arm and spreading across his back and chest swirling where his heart should be it also goes all the way down his left leg into the bottom of his foot, some of it is even peeking across his neck. He thinks it's the scar that was supposed to show itself when the accident happened but it didn't.

it's here now and it constantly aches too, another aspect of the ectoplasm levels here. He thinks he's become more fatigued but his sleep schedule was already shity to begin with, 4-5 hours a week can do that to a person. same with his appetite, food was more dangerous than edible most of the time at h- Fentonworks.

He ducked into an alleyway to search through the duffle bag that was packed for him, squinting to lessen the light in his eyes. and he found a lot. Hygiene products, a new phone and modified Phantom-phone courtesy of Tucker, notebooks, files, a lot of snacks, bottled water, Med kit, wild survival kits courtesy of jazz, bunch of the Fentonworks inventions now phantom-tech that he and Tucker modified and improved together, some clothing items courtesy of Sam, and a bunch of other miscellaneous items/small bags he didn't want to look into right now except for

Oh. . .

Oh ancients the fuck Sam!?!?

Sam gave him a crossbody satchel filled with big money, and when he says big money he means probably thousands in big money!?!? taking two 50s out and shoving the satchel inside his chest he looked to see what the notebooks and files were about.

One of the files was the necessary paperwork for his new identity that Tucker and Jazz helped create together, and judging by the glowing green sticky note Clockwork helped them too, probably about the sorta maybe blind thing he got going on. The other files containing pretty much all the Fenton works blueprints and or recipes for chemical compounds like the ecto-dejecto and the cleaning spray for ectoplasm.

The notebooks were small but thick, they hold a variety of things ranging from tips and tricks, locations that may be useful, information about Gotham in general, several were blank, and others had other little things he won't get to. One notebook was dedicated to everything he has done as Phantom, his battles, achievements, and things they learned about his weird biology. some of it was clearly done by Clockwork cuz he hasn't told anybody the full story about Dan or the clones or the other fights and challenges he faced.

Did he forget to mention that besides the necessary paperwork everything was written in Braille? No? because it was.

Deciding that he was done searching through the bag for now he put on a black hoodie with blob ghost sewn on the front, took out his new phone, and put the Phantom-phone in. He turned on the blind aid in the accessibility function and turned the brightness down significantly. He pulls up Google to look for a place to rent. They all begrudgingly agreed that they won't call or text until a month has passed so suspicions won't be as tight on them. Finding something close and cheap and pulling up the directions to speak audibly he goes on his merry way.

Hopefully the owner will be nice enough to him even though he's barely 16 trying to rent an apartment.

--------------- *Hour and a half later*------------------

The building fucking abandoned

No like the top half of it looked like it exploded years ago and Google still says it's for rent!?!?

Why!?

You know what fuck it! he's already made his way over here and it geting dark fast. he'll find a decent corner in there to sleep tonight.

Squeezing his his way through a hole that was supposed to be a door, tripping, and landing face first on the broken disgusting floor below him.

_______________________________________________

Batman and Robin were investigating a weapons deal that was happening later tonight in an abandoned apartment complex, half the building gone from an explosion courtesy of Two Face. 30 minutes before the deal they were doing a quick sweep of the two floors that remain when

*Smack*

Someone face planted 5 ft away from them.

"Ow " they rub their face for a minute before sitting up and

" That's a blind child " Robin was slightly bewildered by the black haired, blind and before closing his eyes he was able to make out the dull icey blue color. He was ill looking 13-14 in age.

A blind boy that was deathly pale, warringly skinny and most importantly alone.

He points in the vague direction of Robin before stating "I'll have you know I'm almost 16 and you don't sound much older than I do" he feels across the ground searching for the phone that was a few inches away from his reach.

Batman grabs the phone off the floor before standing the boy up himself and handing it to him. " The apartment building you have been following is out of service "

" Oh, why is it still operational on Google?"

" Tch, It seems someone has failed to inform the online networks of this buildings status, which is a incompetence on their part" Robin walked up to be beside the boy.

" what's more important is why you were looking for an apartment building in the first place. You're alone as well, when someone should be there with you when you cannot see or you should at least have a cain. It is also heading to a time of night where you should not be walking outside."

" What is this an interrogation, why should I be telling you what I am doing, who even are you." The boy crosses his arms backing away slightly

" We are Batman and Robin and we are only concerned of your safety" the big bat himself States in a softer than usual for his Batman growl.

Robin looks over at him giving him a look before signing ' are you serious ' then folded his arms. Batman ignores him.

Multiple footsteps could be heard across the floor, Batman grabs a hold of the child before grappling up and away from sight. Robin does the same in a different direction.

_______________________________________________

Holy SHIT

Fenton luck strikes again because he just walked in on The Batman and fucking Robin on an investigation and he interrupted. Being held in Batman's arms he realizes that either he's tiny or Batman's huge because he's at least three times his size.

This is turning out to be one of the more fucked up situations he has ever been in. Let's hope he won't fuck up the situation even more then he already has.

(sorry for the cliffhanger I need to rest my brain a bit with writing, but here is what I've written Hope you enjoy also I saw the reblog from @athyriaceae and took it into consideration thank you for rebloging)

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith wrecked havoc like no other.

He was loved and hated by the masses. Defended by Gotham regardless of what they felt of him. A figure in the underworld that hunted down those who moved to harm one of their kin and executed anyone who laid their hands in the weak—children.

The first explosion had been explained by the scattering papers and the anonymous posts of an organization who went after children with malicious intent. Blatant evidence that had people rallying to the GCPD to demand for justice. It was glorious and horrific—especially once they found out that it was Wraith who tossed the Joker into the harbor.

The Bats, by all means, attempt to find him. Figure him out, at least. But the man was a mystery. It was worse considering the majority of Gotham were eagerly telling the Bats to fuck off whenever they tried to hunt down Wraith. The only thing they ever got out of him was that his second in command—Phantom—was the nicer one between them. If you wanted civil negotiations, try and look for Phantom instead.

As much as they wanted to go directly to Wraith, this was their best shot. Their only shot.

"Had any luck finding Phantom?" Dick's hand rested on Tim's shoulder, trying to support his clearly tired brother. Tim was a little to determined, kinda desperate to find this guy.

"Nothing. Their names are trigger words." Tim clicked his tongue, "It's fucking up the system. Remember Ghostmaker's ghostnet? Any attempts makes you want to shut off your systems because of how encrypted they could get."

"Searching up their names gave the Batcomputer a virus?!" Steph gawked, leaning over Tim and staring at the computer. They could all tell he was wary, trying not to type in certain words to keep the damn tech sage from that mania.

"Wraith and Phantom are either metas with technology altering powers..." Barbara hums, "Or they have someone else doing this. Imagine them having their own version of the calculator... But worse and more annoying."

"So our new crime lord has a hacker... That has given the Batcomputer a virus." Dick slowly said, "And is still operating without us finding out."

"Hood and Robin are out trying to find Phantom." Barbara points to the two dots hurriedly moving through crime alley. "Hopefully they find him."

"Any news on Wraith?"

"His latest stint involved tearing down one of Black Mask's operations. Several bodies were found in the harbor."

"Why the harbor?"

"It's his MO, I think. It's always the harbor where he dumps the bodies."

Tim frowns, "Like it's his trash can.... For bodies."

"Hasn't the harbor always been the body trash can of Gotham?" Steph sighs, before turning away to stare at Cass who was training in the simulators again.

Dick glared at her for the comment but once again looked back to the screen.

"Hopefully they find Phantom soon... before Wraith drops more bodies."

Phantom was the nicer of the two—claimes by many people who told them Wraith was a little on the quieter side. No one truly knew but he was quieter than a lot of them.

Crime Alley was Red Hood's territory, everyone knew that. But apparently, Wraith has been operating in the same area from time to time. Mainly to return kids to the alley (freshly claimed by that flaiming white symbol). But Wraith did so quietly. They checked in from time to time to see if the kids were alright.

To be specific...

Phantom came to visit to see if the children they had returned and claimed were safe. Often coming with resources that he mainly reserved for the kids.

"Found him." Jason muttered, voice distorted through the modulator as he narrowed his eyes at the young man dressed in monochrome colors. His binoculars zeroed on the young man with white (seriously??) boots and gloves. The rest of his outfit was black, with a jacket still in monochrome colors. Jason frowned at the hood that covered his head.

"Let's go, Hood. Nightwing and father wants—"

"Stay out of it, Robin." Hood instantly growled. Jason has never felt so territorial before but this guy was in his territory—doing good, keeping the kids safe, marking them so no one tried going after them. "Phantom is Wraith's lieutenant. We don't need to make an enemy of the nicer one and piss of the one who ordered the explosion."

"I can handle him!"

"You'll piss him off!"

Robin scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you won't? Phantom clearly is fond of children and I am a child—"

"With katanas. You're a murderous child. Wraith and Phantom claim children who are in danger. Not the danger." Jason scoffed, while Damian opted to look utterly smug at the statement.

"Stay here." Jason drops down from the building.

He, unfortunately, didn't account for Phantom pulling out a sword from nowhere and immediately pointing it at Jason. The kids behind the man were quick hide behind him, cowering in fear until the recognition sets in their eyes.

"Wait! That's the Red Hood!" A girl yells, standing between them. Stupid but very brave. "He's one of the good ones!"

Phantom, who wore a mask that covered half his face yet showed his eyes, immediately lowered his sword once the girl was between them.

Jason froze, unable to tear his gaze away from Lazarus eyes—no... That shade of green was much purer than the pits... Phantom narrowed his eyes at Jason, before turning back to the girl. "You go and take care of your little sister, yeah? If your mom forgets to feed you again, tell her I'll give her a visit."

The girl nods, but she whirled around and gave Jason the nastiest glare an 8-year-old could give. "You hurt mr. Phantom and I'll tell Wraith!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, frowning before she gives Phantom a quick hug and makes a run for it with the other kids.

Soon enough, they're left alone... Staring at one another.

"I was wondering when one of you Bats would finally find me." Phantom hums, sliding his hand over the hilt of his sword.

Jason warily watched it disappear from sight. Okay. Possible meta, definitely has powers. "You're a hard man to find, Phantom."

"Not for you, I guess. I come and go into your haunt to check in on the kids every week." Phantom laughs, tilting his head.

Jason could see snow white hair from under the hood, making him shudder as the deathly green eyes are brought back to his attention.

"Every week, huh?" Jason clicked his tongue. "I'll cut to the chase. Your boss's stint—" he swore that Phantom twitched "—pissed of the big Bat. He ain't happy tnag Wraith is bombing up buildings and killing people."

Phantom visibly rolled his eyes, "Too bad then. Wraith's pretty direct when it comes to this shit. Trafficking and pimping kids make him murderous but the fact that those bastards were killing them and selling their organs? He's damn genocidal at this point. Can't say I disagree with that."

Jason... Well... Jason can't argue with that. If he found out that some bastards were doing that to kids, he'd go ballistic too. But Bruce didn't agree with these methods and was rather reproachful about it. But Wraith wasn't going to back down. This wasn't a normal rogue that had felt fear of the Batman and his brood before. To be honest, Jason thinks he's pretty ballsy.

"I don't disagree with that shit either. But Batman ain't going to let him off the hook after that stunt." Jason warned, grunting as he spoke through the modulator. The pits were flaring up again. But not malicious, not murderous. It was curious as it warmed his chest and practically urged him to get closer to Phantom.

"Yes, well... Piece of advice—Wraith is willing to blow up an entire district if it meant keeping others safe. And besides, your rogues know not to mess with him. Not after the Joker." He didn't actually see Phantom's face but he's pretty sure that the bastard was grinning.

"So he really did it."

"If it makes you feel any better, the Joker might as well be cursing him from the afterlife. It was an accident." Phantom shrugged.

An accident, Jason breathed out. Holy fuck, that would have been humiliating for the Joker. His death. An accident. Unintentional and he still died, his body dumped into the harbor.

"Anyways, tell Batsy not to mess with the kids. I know he doesn't, but he let the Joker live, so..." Phantom gave him a thumbs up, "Make sure to not cross pass with Wraith or else you'll end up in the harbor."

Jason gawked, watching as Phantom slipped into the shadows and promptly disappeared. Meta. Definitely a meta.

"Hood, report." Batman's voice rang through the comms.

"Red Hood," he grunts, "Wraith sure as hell doesn't like you, old man. And Phantom might be the nice one but he might as well be as stabby as Robin."

"I agree with Hood. He has wonderful posture, father!" Robin spoke, sounding impressed and smug.

The little shit.

"Technus, stop bullying Oracle." Dan groaned once he caught the ghost tampering with the net... Again.

The crime lord turned towards Danny, who melted out of the shadows again. Technus was blabbering about pesky bats and birds before Dante clocked his younger brother's apprehension. He looked....annoyed and concerned.

"I talked to Red Hood."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"Fun fact! He's a revenant!"

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN THE OTHER CRIME LORD IS A REVENAN?!"

"A very sexy looking one."

He was going to punch Danny. He was going to fucking punch Danny.

(Danny was not punched.)

"He said that Batman's pissy about you blowing up shit." Danny shrugged, shaking his head before floating over to the energy drinks and coffees by Dan's desk. "Good news though! I told him he'd end up in the harbor if he ever tried anything with us."

Dan gawked, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You want to make the bats our enemies?"

"No! I'm commiting to our crime family bit!"

"We're not a crime family!"

"Tell that to Ellie. She's already got herself a new suit and everything."

Dan threw his hands up in the air, groaning at the insanity that was his younger siblings. Dear ancients, he was praying that Jazz wouldn't find out about the shit they've done in Gotham. She'd give them the worst tongue lashing the world has ever experienced if she did. Thank God she was in Yale right now.

"Ooh! A crime family, you say?" Technus grinned, floating closer to Danny who lounged in Dan's chair. (Get the fuck away from my crime lord throne, Danny! The leather is expensive!)

"That is perfect! The others have decided to migrate here, did you know? It's been quite... Boring back in Amity." Technus snickered.

Fuck. No.

"I bet my trust from Vlad that Johnny, Kitty, and Ember are already on their way." Danny cackled, "That'd be nice. Elle's been itching to steal Johnny's bike again."

"Splendid! We shall wreck havoc upon Gotham and exact justice that the Bats cannot give the people!" And like a supervillain, Danny cackled as he stood on Dan's desk, laughing maniacally.

(Just outside, the Wraith's goons peaked into the room and saw the insanity that was the nice lieutenant's villainy.)

Meanwhile, in the distance, the laughter of Johnny 13 and Kitty rang through the streets of Gotham.

Part 3 | Masterpost

[skateboard-of-sickness]

Gorgug Thistlespring, a Half-Orc Barbarian raised by gnome tinkerers. His parents don’t fully get him but they love him and support him as he is. He dated a 4’11” girl and He’s 6’4”. He offered someone a metal flower on the first day of school, punched them, still offered them the flower, and sang in class. He died on the first day of school and went to hell. He bonded with Kristen because they both died that day. He became a drummer because Fig saw him sing about rage and wanted to share her coping mechanism. They became a rock band. He protects his friends. He loves his friends more than anything. He helped Ragh accept himself by kissing him at Prom and getting him to help fight a dragon. He left Elmville without telling Zelda goodbye and spent an entire season trying to fix it. Fig was missing, Riz was dragged into a mirror? He had to get to them, but he should have called her. He’s the greatest wizard of the age. “Spring Break, I believe in you.” He is the crab king and the shrimp prince. He figured out how to use his parent’s satellite to talk to Zelda. “It’s Gorgug, keep going.” He hugged Fabian, who punched him on the first day of school when they got back to each other in the Nightmare King’s forest. He multiclassed without anyone doing it before him and without help. He mixed his parents together and made a new multiclass. He built the solar lasso that caught the night yorb, he helped Riz gain some of his arcano-tech! His van is holding the Night Yorb. He uses his rage to protect people, he took 4 years of school at once to make sure he got to multiclass because he was not gonna be told no. He stayed on the Owlbears for Fabian even though he didn’t want it anymore. He took the Last Standard Exam and he crit so. many. times. He didn’t fall and neither did his friends! He flew a boat and killed dragons and he protected his spellcasters from Porter because that bitch was not gonna kill his friends. He hugged Kristen and told her she looked better. He looked better too. “Remember when we died?” He posited “It might happen again,” she responded. He didn’t let it. He wouldn’t let that happen. Not to them, never again. His new girlfriend is 2’.

I genuinely can’t get over him I love him and I have so many more analyses of so many more characters coming and hopefully they will be more coherent but it’s 4 am in a warehouse

[covenofagatha]

Going up

A morning of working Agatha up ends in an elevator

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: GP Agatha, cumming in pants, blowjob, slight handjob, public (no sex though), oral, light edging

A/N: I don't even know if this is good or not lol but I had the idea and couldn't get it out of my head so hopefully people enjoy it

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn

When you wake up on Saturday morning, your first thought is: no work today! This week has been especially rough, the end of the fiscal quarter upon you, and your boss has been working you and the rest of the company to the bone. 

Your head lolls back on the pillow, tilting slightly to your left, where you see said boss sleeping next to you and a smirk spreads over your face. 

Her hair is fanned out across the pillowcase, the creases on her forehead that you’re used to seeing at work not as evident. She looks peaceful, more relaxed than she ever does awake, and it does something to your chest. 

Agatha Harkness is the Chief Operating Officer for the largest law firm in New York City. She runs a no-nonsense ship, barking out orders to everyone and anyone regardless of who you are. There’s rumors that she’s made interns pee themselves with just a single look. 

It’s no secret that she’s tightly wound and, without a doubt, a piece of work. The running joke between some of the attorneys was that she really needed to get laid. 

And while you found that incredibly sexist, that’s where you came in. 

For some reason, Agatha had always had a soft spot for you, one of the top Senior Associate attorneys for the company. Whereas when everyone else turned in reports and whatnot and got a mere eyebrow raise, she actually smiled at you. 

You were certain it was just a fluke that kept happening over and over again, but one night in her corner office, the two of you were tirelessly working on a lawsuit for a tech company and you had taken off your blazer. The air conditioning had broken, and you were working up a sweat.  

She was sitting adjacent to you on the couch, and you can still remember her swallowing hard when you undid the top two buttons of your silk blouse. She shifted, hands dropping to her lap uncomfortably, but you didn’t think much of it. 

And then you had decided that writing on paper against a book in your lap was too hard, so you had slunk off the couch onto your knees to use the coffee table as a better surface and Agatha had groaned. 

You had looked up in concern to find her fingers digging into her thighs so tightly her knuckles were white and you could see a faint tent in her pants. 

“Do you need some help with that?” You had asked, eyes wide and feeling like you were in a dream. Of course you had a crush on Agatha, she was powerful and bossy and the hottest woman you’d ever seen, but you had been convinced she would never even think of you as anything more than a subordinate. 

It was stupid to offer, she was probably going to report you to HR the next day, but she had made a small sound and gave an affirmative jerk of her head, and the next thing you knew, she had pulled out her cock and you were sucking her off right there in her office. 

Turns out, the other attorneys had been right. 

Agatha was in a much better mood the next day, actually saying thank you to the intern who brought her morning coffee instead of ignoring him completely. 

That night three months ago was the start of a mutual coworkers-with-benefits relationship, if you could call it that. You had brought it up to Agatha one time and she had snorted before fondly telling you to go bother someone else. 

With the end of the quarter coming up though, there had been a lot more late nights, including last night, when Agatha had stopped you from getting into your car after working until ten pm and dragged you into her company car, her mouth on yours before the partition between the backseat and the driver had gotten all the way up. 

The two of you had fucked for close to an hour when you had gotten back to Agatha’s penthouse apartment and promptly passed out. 

And you’re hoping more than anything that today, a planned day off, is full of more of Agatha’s cock inside you. 

Your boss stirs next to you, exhaling heavily, and when she presses her hips against you, you can feel her half-hardened length. It instantly sends a thrill straight to your stomach and you slowly inch down the covers to reveal your still-naked bodies. 

You reach out your hand and run your thumb over her nipple, watching it pebble quickly, and then skim your fingertips down the smooth skin of her back, a trail of goosebumps following. She’s laying on her side facing you so you’re able to watch her eyebrows knit together slightly. Your hand reaches her hip and then slides down and you’re about to touch her cock when she suddenly grabs your wrist. 

It makes you jump. Agatha’s blue eyes flutter open to meet your surprised ones. 

“What are you doing, babygirl?” She rasps, voice still hoarse with sleep, and it makes you shudder. 

“I thought I’d help you out with your problem,” you tease. 

Agatha hums thoughtfully, letting go of your hand and stroking her cock. You watch with rapt fascination as it hardens fully under her touch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and satiate the burning feeling in your stomach. “I think that’s only fair,” she decides. “seeing as it’s your fault I’m turned on.” 

You grin and maneuver her onto her back and straddle her thighs, bending over her to suck her nipple into your mouth. She makes a muffled sound and her hips jerk up, her now-leaking cock brushing against your stomach. You tease her for a minute or two before kissing down her stomach and you scrape your teeth against her hip bone. 

By the time you get to her cock, she’s already thrusting gently against nothing for stimulation, red, hard, and messy and when you run your tongue up the length while holding eye contact, she lets out a loud moan and her hand flies to your hair. You trace the vein on the side until she’s practically whimpering, legs shaking beneath you, and then you take the tip into your mouth and suck. 

Agatha keens and her back arches off the bed. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “God, babygirl, your mouth feels so good.” 

You move your head down her cock and you feel her pulse in your mouth and her hips jump, shoving herself further into your throat. You gag and she groans and you start to move faster, Agatha throbbing inside your mouth and –

– her phone rings. 

Agatha swears and scrambles to answer it, barking out a “What?” right as you swallow around her cock. She fixes you with a warning glare as you laugh, the vibrations forcing her to clamp a hand over her mouth. 

You hold her stare and take the whole thing into your mouth, rubbing your tongue against her and her head falls back onto the pillow. It’s getting harder for her to stay quiet, especially with you bobbing up and down her cock and she eventually has to pull you off her before she inevitably cums into your mouth while on the phone. 

So you just watch her, licking your lips and taking a moment to breathe. She’s getting more and more pissed by the minute, eyes becoming dark and angry, a frown etching onto her face, and you can hear the other person saying something about a contract and a multi-million dollar deal and how the company could be fucked without it, and when Agatha’s erection slowly softens, you know what it means. 

She hangs up the phone and your head falls onto her stomach dramatically. “Do we have to?” You groan and Agatha huffs out a sigh. 

“Stark Industries might be pulling out unless we amend some of the clauses in that contract. We need to go in,” she says. 

“Can I at least finish you off first?” You offer and her cock twitches at the thought. 

Agatha chews on her lip like she’s seriously considering it, but then pats your cheek. “Maybe later, babygirl.” 

You roll your eyes and flop onto the bed and she chuckles as she gets up and pulls some clothes out of her drawer. She puts on a navy blue suit and tosses an outfit at you, a black pencil skirt and white blouse. 

“Let’s go,” she orders, never out of boss mode for too long. You petulantly make your movements as slow as possible until she threatens to spank you for it later, and although it doesn’t really seem like it’d be much of a punishment, you hurry up. 

She grabs two apples from her fridge, hands one to you, and calls her car. The driver is waiting right outside when you get down to the lobby and you slide in after her. 

“You know what I’d rather be doing?” You ask conversationally after leaning forward to press the button for the partition to go up. 

Agatha’s scrolling on her phone and hums in acknowledgement. 

“Sucking your cock,” you answer and Agatha stiffens. “I love the taste of you, love how you lose composure for me, love how it feels when you cum in my mouth.” 

She’s biting her lip now and you can see the outline of her rapidly hardening cock in her pants. You reach out and put your hand on the bulge and she grits her teeth, still turned on from earlier. 

“Honey,” she warns through a clenched jaw. “Don’t.”

But you don’t listen. You slowly start to move your fingers, stroking up and down and feeling her throb in her pants. She swallows roughly and she’s getting harder, a flush settling into her cheeks and neck. 

You lean in and flick your tongue against her earlobe and she shivers. 

“Don’t let this think you’re in charge,” she says tightly. “You just wait until we get back to my apartment. I’ll remind you.” 

You laugh. “Really? Cause it feels like I’m holding a lot of the power right now.” And to emphasize your point, you give her cock a tight squeeze, immensely enjoying the way she groans. 

“You’re going to be on your knees,” she says in a low, gruff voice. It ignites your stomach. “My cock down your throat, and then I’m going to cum all over that pretty little face and you’re going to thank me for it.” 

The image securely mounts itself in your mind and you gasp. 

“And then, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your name and all you’re going to feel is my cock deep inside you,” she continues and you can feel your mind going foggy. Your hand has stopped moving, but you can feel just how much the thought is affecting her, too. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, your underwear practically sticking to you. Agatha smirks triumphantly, now both of you overwhelmingly turned on, but the joke is on both of you when the driver pulls up in front of the office building. 

You both groan and reluctantly get out of the car, despite you asking Agatha for five more minutes. The cold air in the lobby does little to quell the heat in your stomach and you drag your feet on the way to the elevator. 

Much to your surprise, there’s quite a lot of other employees working on this Saturday, most of them not from your law firm, so when the doors open and everyone steps on, all different numbers are pressed. 

With fifty-five floors, it’s one of the taller skyscrapers in the area, and the executives of the law firm are on the top. There’s at least twenty other stops on the elevator ride and you roll your eyes and follow Agatha straight to the back corner, turning around so your back is facing her. 

You go up one floor and the doors ding. Five more people get in and you’re practically on top of Agatha now with how packed it is. You move your body sideways to make more room, your hip knocking against Agatha. 

“Sorry,” you murmur and she makes a small sound, hand coming up to ruffle her hair. You pull out your phone and you’re scrolling through emails, clicking on one from one of the paralegals asking for advice about a case they’re working on and typing out a quick response, when you hear Agatha sharply inhale. 

And then you feel it. 

You had thought that once you’d gotten out of the car and you were no longer directly and purposely touching her, she would calm down. 

That is clearly not the case. 

This is the hardest she’s been all morning. 

You try and catch her eye, which takes longer than it should because of how hard she’s trying not to look at you. 

Really? You mouth when she finally gives in. 

Agatha turns uncharacteristically red and you feel your body flush. You had no idea you could affect her this much and it’s seriously turning you on. 

She tries to turn her hips away but there’s no room so your boss has no choice other than to keep her throbbing cock pressed against you. 

The elevator dings at the eighth floor. One person gets out. You tilt your head up at Agatha and find a slight sheen of sweat on her cheeks and glassy eyes. She’s staring straight ahead, lips pursed tightly together, looking like she’s in sweet, agonizing pain. 

How much stimulation is she getting right now? You’re not moving, she’s not moving, and yet she sometimes doesn’t even look like this when she’s inside you. 

Should you be offended? You decide to not be, based on what you’ve put her through this morning. 

Eleventh floor. Three people get off and she sucks in a deep breath when you can finally step away from her. Your eyes flicker down to the very visible tent in her pants and you clench your thighs together. She watches you and you swear you can see her cock throb through the navy fabric of her pants. 

Twentieth floor. More people get in and you’re pushed back against her. She lets out a small gasp and you gently lay your fingers on her wrist. 

Agatha shudders and you can feel your wetness on your inner thighs. You might have to go to the bathroom when you get out of the elevator and take care of yourself. 

Not like you would last more than three minutes right now. 

Your boss is now fully staring at you, barely any blue left in her eyes, a look you’ve never seen before on her face. 

It’s thrilling. 

Thirty-third floor. More people file out, muttering excuse me and sorry as they wade through the crowd. 

Now there’s more room in the elevator, enough room where you could step away from Agatha and give yourselves both some breathing room. 

You don’t move. 

Agatha is taking deep, slow breaths, her cheeks surely burning to the touch right now, and at least she’s wearing a dark color to hide the stain she is assuredly going to have on her pants. 

Babygirl, she mouths pleadingly when you finally look at her again and you have to stifle a moan at how needy she looks right now. 

And what kind of person would you be if you didn’t help her out? 

You’ve been standing perpendicular to her, your hip and side of your right leg pressed against her body. 

Fiftieth floor. 

Mostly everyone has cleared out by now. 

You slowly turn your body to face the doors, making sure to carefully drag your ass against her, and her hand grips onto your arm with a vice-like grip from behind you. 

She twitches and pulses and then throbs, and you can feel warmth spread on the back of your – her skirt as she cums in her pants, ever-so-slightly rutting against you. Agatha lets out a muffled groan, followed by a cough for show; there’s still three other people in the elevator. 

The elevator dings on the fifty-fifth floor and Agatha takes a shaky breath as the two of you exit. You feel like you’re burning up and each step you take reminds you of how much of a mess you’ve become. 

“You okay?” You murmur as you walk down aisles of cubicles. 

Agatha weakly laughs. “Next time I’ll just let you finish sucking me off before coming to work.” 

The thought makes you smirk and she opens the door to her office, holding it for you. She walks around her desk and pulls out a pair of underwear and pants for herself (you’ve both started having to keep extra clothes for times like these) and she beckons you into the private bathroom attached. 

You eagerly follow, and you’re even more thrilled when she slams you against the wall and sinks to her knees. Her hooded eyes look up at you as she pushes up the skirt you’re wearing and your head drops back with a gasp escaping from your lips when her mouth sucks on your pussy through your panties. 

Agatha quickly moves them to the side, having enough of her own teasing, and buries her tongue inside you and it pulls an obscene moan from deep in your chest. 

It feels so fucking good and you’re already on the edge from getting Agatha all worked up this morning. She chuckles at how wet you are, how you’re already getting her face soaked, and she swirls her tongue around your clit and your hips roll, chasing more. 

She brings you right to your orgasm – it’s almost embarrassing how quickly it happens – and you’re shaking, trembling, begging, but she stops. 

“No, Agatha, please,” you whine, hand in her hair and trying to push her back against you, but she stands back up and licks her lips. The bottom half of her face is glistening, shiny with your wetness in the harsh light of the bathroom. 

She pouts mocking and makes quick work of turning around and changing her clothes while you frantically start to rub yourself with your own fingers. You’re so close–

“Uh uh,” she tuts, catching your eye in the mirror. You almost sob and she whirls back around to suck your fingers into her mouth. They slip out with a pop! “You got me all worked up until I came in my pants like a fucking teenager, babygirl. You think I’m going to let that slide? You think you’re in charge? Well, now I’m going to get you all worked up and you will not be cumming until we’re back in my apartment, got it?” 

All you can do is whimper and the grin she gives you is wicked. With one pat to your cheek, she pushes you out of the bathroom just in time for one of the attorneys, Alice Wu, to come into her office. 

Agatha slides into her chair while you awkwardly stand next to her desk while Alice lays a contract on it. 

You can’t even pretend to be paying attention, still focused on the orgasm you were just denied and how maybe if you just press your legs together really hard–

Agatha says your name. Probably not the first time she’s said it, judging by her annoyed tone, but when you look at her, she winks, like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

You roll your eyes, step closer so you’re next to Agatha, and lean over so you can see what Alice is talking about. You have to repress a gasp when you feel your boss’s hand tracing up the back of your thigh through your skirt, just low enough so no one can see. 

Agatha watches you carefully out of her peripheral vision, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a smirk. 

You are fucked.  

[kuyatecallate]

...taking this as an excuse to throw up in the tags because I'm a coward.

I went down a Youtube rabbit hole today of watching horror games framed as computer viruses, to videos on the history of actual computer viruses and trojan horses, to then just thinking about video game creepypastas, so I've just been kinda in that clashing thoughts stage of "there is an incomprehensible DCA AU just outside of my grasp rn." Yeah, it sure is a vibe. Don't know what it is though

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming. 

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be. 

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now? 

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place? 

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you. 

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life? 

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all. 

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that? 

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?” 

“Was he like that with you before?” 

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty. 

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.” 

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point. 

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?” 

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.” 

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.” 

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.” 

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.” 

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet. 

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.  

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused. 

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?” 

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons. 

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare. 

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction. 

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband? 

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married. 

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else. 

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu. 

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal. 

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her. 

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman. 

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong. 

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own. 

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her. 

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.” 

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse. 

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line. 

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots. 

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.” 

Oh… “He bought more than one?” 

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony. 

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.  

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi. 

There was no you in that vision anymore. 

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband? 

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one. 

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free. 

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them. 

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest. 

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!” 

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy. 

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.  

“Ah!” 

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part. 

“Willow!” 

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell. 

“Willow!” 

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness! 

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all. 

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon. 

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!” 

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!” 

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension. 

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.” 

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you. 

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.” 

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.” 

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy. 

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?” 

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat. 

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.” 

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…” 

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest. 

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.” 

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind. 

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right? 

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again. 

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself. 

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.” 

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever? 

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy. 

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital. 

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you? 

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed. 

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.” 

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son. 

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined. 

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse. 

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself? 

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage. 

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family. 

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight. 

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.” 

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?” 

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it. 

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.” 

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else. 

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired. 

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?” 

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.” 

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.” 

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists. 

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there. 

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi. 

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera? 

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet. 

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.” 

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.” 

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life. 

Both choices had no happy endings. 

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind. 

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were? 

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse. 

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!” 

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?” 

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him? 

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them. 

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you. 

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in. 

How sickeningly sweet. 

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality. 

It was out of love that he let you go. 

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too. 

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife. 

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore. 

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses? 

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you. 

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off. 

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries. 

This woman was all he needed. 

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider. 

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important. 

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it? 

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman. 

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you. 

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it? 

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar. 

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life? 

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate? 

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third? 

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing. 

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions. 

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him. 

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you? 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.” 

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget? 

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?” 

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart.  “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.” 

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.” 

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore. 

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now. 

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway. 

As for you, well… 

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?” 

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire. 

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor. 

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news. 

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.” 

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?” 

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy. 

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son. 

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.” 

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?” 

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.” 

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?” 

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself? 

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here. 

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth. 

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over? 

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now? 

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces? 

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.” 

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given. 

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi? 

[kurooh]

PLAYING DANGEROUS ★ N. KENTO

⊹ ₊˚. OCTOBER 4TH. seven minutes in heaven doesn’t seem like all that until you end up in a tight closet with an officer who’s had his eyes on you all night.

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, everyone is above 21, oral sex [m receiving], deepthroating, light role play, alcohol, crying, light satosugu, wc is 3.1k

xoxo, juno ★ this was bootyhole but it was the first fic of the month 💔 next week will hopefully be better

🎃 LIFE OF THE PARTY MLIST.

since you’d arrived to the party with your friends from jujutsu tech—shoko and utahime—you’d felt someone’s eyes on you. as you stood with a red solo cup in hand, talking with your friends, you’d gotten goosebumps a few times on your rather exposed skin . .

the three of you had chosen to dress as the plastics from the mean girls, some costumes more showy than others. shoko had opted to wear karen’s mouse costume, with some black tights to match the look better. utahime wore gretchen’s black cat costume, the black suit loose on her and adjusted to cover her collarbone area more to her liking. between the two of them, you were the star of the show — pink bunny ears glittering on your head, tits pushed up and over the hem of the top, the bottom part of the suit tight on your ass and cut high on the sides of your thighs. honestly, you really hadn’t meant to wear something this revealing; there were issues with shipping and handling, resulting in a smaller size of the costume arriving just before the party.

“girls!” utahime whines, looking left and right at the people drinking and dancing. “what should we do first? it’s too loud over here!”

“what?” shoko calls, even though the three of you are standing right beside one another. “utahime, i can’t hear you.”

you and shoko share a giggle when utahime stamps her foot on the ground, grabs your wrists, and tugs you over to a sitting area, away from the music. your drink nearly sloshes over the rim of the cup and spills onto your chest. someone dressed in a police officer costume shoots you an indistinguishable look just as you save it. their eyes are an olive green, the rest of their features hidden by the party lights and their costume. once you sit down altogether, utahime lets out a huff.

“i said, what should we do?”

“drink and dance,” you answer immediately, tossing your cup back and taking a swig of your drink. it stings a little as it goes down. what was it again? some kind of fruity concoction with all kinds of liquor mixed by the frat boys from inarizaki college or something.

“but that drink is nasty!” she complains, wrinkling her nose as you offer her the cup.

“i need a smoke break,” shoko sighs deeply, fumbling around in her pocket.

“shoko, we’ve been here for less than fifteen minutes,” you remind her, patting her arm before utahime launches into an anti-smoking lecture. “at least wait a little longer, then i’ll come with you.”

she rolls her eyes, squeezing the box hard as she pushes it back into her pocket. “fine. let’s get some drinks and try to dance then, yeah?”

the three of you shuffle back to the dance floor, pushing past the drunk people and couples making out to get to the table of bottles.

“want me to mix you something up, utahime?” a jujutsu tech student whose voice you’ve heard before is mischievous and teasing. judging by the way utahime slams the bottle of vodka down on the table, it’s definitely that gojo she’s always ranting about.

“get out, gojo!” she snaps, extending her arm and pointing towards the other side of the crowd. he disappears into the crowd with a cackle, and the three of you return to pouring and filling your cups. you take a gulp of your drink, pulling the cup away from your lips with a gasp, surprised by the burn in your throat and slightly sickening after taste.

“you alright?” comes a deep voice from behind you, and a person is offering you a sealed bottle of water. you turn quickly, almost bare ass brushing against a strong body.

“y-yeah, thanks,” you say appreciatively, looking up into the face you’d seen earlier. at this point, you’re sure that this is a man you’ve seen somewhere before; maybe you’d heard about him from utahime and shoko?

you shake the feeling off, flashing the officer a smile before turning away to invite your friends onto the dance floor. it takes utahime some time to warm up, taking careful sips from her drink and sticking close to shoko, who sways lightly to the music, probably thinking about her upcoming smoke break.

as you dance, spinning occasionally to the music, you can’t seem to stop noticing that officer from earlier. he’s always standing in a corner somewhere, or he’s talking to his friends without focusing on them, clearly caught up with you and your costume.

“shoko!” calls a relaxed voice you manage to hear over the music, and then all three of you are walking over to the sitting area again. “been calling you for a while, c’mon now.”

“what’s up, geto?” she asks tiredly, tugging her cigarette box from her pocket and catching the lighter he tosses her.

“well, i—”

“knock it off, gojo,” the tall officer pushes gojo from earlier off him, sending him tumbling into geto. his dark hair is long and neatly arranged to go with his costume.

“suguru!” gojo shouts, clearly drunk as he clings to the front of geto’s costume. “thank goodness you caught me, nanami’s being so rude! i just suggested we could play seven minutes in heaven.”

“is that right?” he laughs, nudging gojo off and sitting on the couch, then gesturing for the police officer to take a seat too. gojo sits down quickly, much to the officer’s obvious disdain.

“idiots,” utahime huffs, shaking her head and making her cat ears wiggle. she looks over to a smoking shoko and fans the plumes out of the air. “don’t you agree?”

“of course, utahime,” she replies, nudging you lightly. she introduces you to the men, who all wave politely, besides the officer, who carefully looks at you.

“nanami’s not a big fan of parties,” gojo says, sticking his tongue out and rifling around for a beer bottle on the floor. he comes back with something half full and sucks the remaining liquid down, then triumphantly places it in the center of the coffee table.

nanami looks to the side, the brim of his cop hat obscuring his eyes. “i’m not interested.”

“come onnnn, nanami,” gojo whines, staring hard, blue eyes wide open in an effort to convince him. “you probably won’t get picked anyway!”

you stifle a giggle at that, and nanami looks away further, crossing a leg over another. but he can’t resist looking from the corner of his eye when gojo spins the bottle and it lands on his friend beside him. geto smiles softly as a drunk gojo yanks him over to the closet nearby, then pushes him inside first.

“those two,” shoko shakes her head, taking a drag on her cigarette. “gojo’s so embarrassing when he’s drunk.”

“uh, hey,” you rise from your seat beside the girls and awkwardly sit beside nanami, who graces you with eye contact that makes you sweat all over. “i just wanted to say thanks for the water when i was choking earlier.”

“it’s no problem,” he says politely, slightly glancing down at your chest and the rest of your body although he fights hard not to.

your cheeks warm and you clear your throat, folding your hands on top of your thighs. “so, you’re from jujutsu tech?”

“i am,” he affirms, making no move to say anything more.

you really hope you don’t get nanami in the game. a few minutes later, gojo and geto come back from the closet, laughing hysterically.

“did you desecrate the closet so we don’t have to play anymore?” shoko asks sarcastically, putting out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray that utahime holds for her.

geto can’t stop cackling, gasping between each one and gripping his chest. “oh my god! satoru got in the closet, tripped, and banged his head on the wall so hard he—”

everyone starts to laugh and geto struggles to finish his story while gojo takes a seat beside nanami to listen. “h-he made the lightbulb fall down and it broke, so now it’s just dark. we spent all the time cleaning up the glass for you guys.”

gojo claps his hands loudly, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck. “ahem!” he clears his throat obnoxiously and points at the coffee table and beer bottle. “nanami, ‘s your turn.”

“i said i’m not interested,” the officer bites, and gojo groans loudly, annoyed.

“convince him!”

everyone but nanami collectively laughs, and geto starts up with that lighthearted and breezy tone of his. “nanami, i’m sure you’ll end up having fun.”

shoko offers a smile, “i don’t like parties any more than you do and yet i’m playing.”

“fine,” he grumbles, snatching the beer bottle from a cheering gojo and putting it down on the table. glass moves against glass as nanami spins it hard; it goes around the table a few times before slowing on utahime, who desperately chants no no no! to everyone’s surprise, including your own, it stops on you.

you look up from the bottle and nanami does too, then you both slowly stand and start to walk over to the closet. you’re trailing behind the officer and looking back nervously.

“good luck,” shoko salutes you, taking a shot from utahime’s cup in your honor.

“thanks,” you nod, slowly following the officer to the closet, padding along the floor silently. a chill pinpricks down your spine as he holds the door open for you, allowing you to walk into the dark closet first. nanami shuffles in beside you, clearing his throat as his body brushes against yours.

“hi,” you say, swallowing nervously. it’s loud enough for nanami to hear, and he raises an eyebrow in the dark. “ah, i didn’t expect to end up in here together.”

“you’d rather be with gojo?” nanami scoffs, sounding insulted although he softens at your frantic response.

“oh my god, no! absolutely not, i was thinking of shoko or something.”

nanami genuinely laughs, leaning back against the wall with a tired sigh. “he forced me to come along, you know. i wanted to stay in the dorms and watch movies or something.”

“well, now you’re here,” you say, hands smoothing over the front of your costume. “might as well play the game, huh? this is supposed to be seven minutes in heaven.”

“i don’t mind talking,” nanami answers, shifting his body. there’s a metallic jingling sound that comes from his waist, which piques your curiosity.

“what’s that?” you ask, nodding towards his waist. he can’t see you, but understands you nonetheless.

“oh, they’re handcuffs,” he pulls them from their holder and swings them on a finger. “supposed to go along with my costume, i guess.”

“do they work?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried them.”

your body burns hot as the words leave your mouth, “put them on me and let’s see if they do.” where is this suggestion even coming from? you couldn’t blame this on the drinking, not when you’ve maintained sober conversation for as long as you have.

nanami laughs loudly, before realizing how serious you are. “shit, you’re serious?”

“i am if you are.”

“if we can’t get these off, it’ll be hell to explain,” nanami warns, before you turn around and offer your hands. the cool metal goes onto your wrists easily, clicking as he locks them. now he’s the one swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry as he realizes the dirty implication. you’re close enough to see each other even though it’s dark, and his olive eyes catch yours for a single moment.

“i swear i’m a good girl, officer,” you tease with a glossy pout, leaning in close enough to his face that he can smell the sweet scents of your lip product and perfumed skin. nanami’s quick to play along, even against his better judgment. you’re real pretty and easy to get carried away thinking about . . he can’t help but feel his cock squeeze in his pants.

“typically good girls aren’t in handcuffs,” he clicks his tongue, fighting back a smile.

“these are tight, officer,” you whine, turning around and pressing your ass into him rather confidently. nanami’s breath hitches in his throat and he allows himself to ghost his fingers along your wrists and the cool metal that binds them together.

“i’m afraid i can’t let you go.”

“no rings on your fingers?” you ask, segueing into a question about his status before you push him further. “ever thought of messing around with a bunny girl?”

“no, work is my focus,” nanami replies smoothly, choosing to let himself enjoy the moment. “and no, i didn’t, not until i met you.”

you giggle, pushing against him. “i need a yes or a no.”

“yes,” he groans, hips twisting against your body; you feel his hard on through ironed pants, pressing into your bare thighs. “wait a minute, you’re the one in cuffs here. you should be begging me to let you go.”

“i don’t need my hands to show you why you should let me go.” your voice is flirty and unashamed, words practically dripping with a sweetness so intoxicating he’s giving in without another word.

“you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you? go ahead and show me why you should be free, girl.”

it all happens fast — before he can register just what’s happening, you’re on your knees in front of him, tugging at his belt with your teeth. he’s extremely impressed, watching through squinted eyes as you tug on the leather and get it out of the buckle.

“a little help, officer?” you lean your head against his thigh, bunny ears slipping back and off your head.

“i thought you didn’t need your hands,” nanami challenges, undoing his belt and letting it hang from his pants. “the rest is all you, princess.”

with your teeth, you tug on his pants and then yank until the button’s undone. you bite down on the zipper and pull it down, then grab onto the hem of his pants and pull it to his knees, all with only your mouth. by the end of it, nanami’s left panting, heaving for air to the point where he has to unbutton his shirt.

you’re good, aren’t you? nanami is speechless.

his gray boxers are next, tight on his hard cock and outlining it deliciously. as they come off, his cock bounces out and almost hits you in the face. you audibly gasp, saliva pooling in your mouth.

is it possible for a dick to look this delicious?

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you assure him, slipping out of character for a moment as you look up at him genuinely. “your cock just looks so good.”

“show me what you mean.”

as you go in towards his tip, he tenses and lifts his cock expectantly, clearing his throat wordlessly. his balls are rounded nicely and feel heavy as you take them into your mouth with a moan, sucking lightly at them and running your tongue along the sensitive skin.

“that’s a good start,” nanami huffs, hips nearly bucking into your face.

from there, you run your tongue along the underside of his cock until you’re at his tip and taking him inside your mouth in one fluid movement.

“god— fuck,” nanami chokes on his words, groaning loudly and biting down onto his lip to quiet himself immediately afterwards. “shit, take it deeper.”

sticky slick pools in your underwear, and you clench up hard the second his palm touches the back of your head and pushes forward forcefully. you’ve got stars in your eyes and so does he as his cock presses deeper into your throat, tip hitting the back of it and making you choke.

“a mouth like this,” he tosses his head back and it lands with a soft thump against the wall, “deserves to be thoroughly fucked.”

nanami’s fingers twist in your hair tightly, and he holds you in place as he fucks his cock down your throat. you choke, tears making your eyes glassy, and you shake a little as you look up at him.

“you can take it.”

even though his cock is absolutely stuffing your throat and blocking off your air supply, his words are trustworthy. you’d made it this far, hadn’t you?

your throat bulges from the size of his cock, stretching out to accommodate his size eagerly. something about being used like this is fulfilling, in a way; it’s rough and satisfying in the best ways possible.

above you, nanami tears his shirt open further, buttons flying every which way from the force. he’s groaning, body sweltering with heat and muscles taut with tension and focus. it’s almost primal, the way he yanks you up by the hair and uses your throat, chasing the orgasm like a dragon.

“fuuuck,” he lets out, watching as tears and mascara rush down your cheeks and make dark tracks on your skin. “you’re a real good girl—hey now, stay still.” you gurgle something, bubbly spit rushing down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

“don’t worry, princess,” his voice is gravelly as he reassures you, his eyes rolling back while yours close in preparation. “i-i’m gonna cum soon, okay?”

nanami feels you open your mouth wider, hears the clink of the handcuffs as you push closer to him. he can feel the cum fill his cock with pressure as it rises to his tip; he pounds out his orgasm in your throat, hips banging into your face and stuttering when he finally falls over the edge. he’s too deep for you to taste the cum, and you only feel its warmth as you greedily swallow it all, moaning quietly at the sensation. his cock leaves your mouth with a pop, a glossy string of spit connecting his tip with your lips.

“don’t look at me like that,” nanami’s voice is shaky as he lifts your chin and closes his eyes when he sees your face, “it makes me want to fuck your throat again.”

“do you get it now, officer?” you rasp, throat sore. “feeling better?”

“yes and yes,” a breathless laugh and he’s leaning in to give you a kiss. nanami’s lips barely brush against yours when you’re both startled by the bang of the door slamming open.

“we totally forgot about you guys!” gojo shouts, before seeing what’s really in front of him.

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th) -

John: "You can disable/enable helmets for cutscenes or at all times." --- User: "Will we be able to collect codex entries again?" John: "Absolutely. Codex entries are part of the series' DNA - plus, they're really fun to write." --- User: "Are there long curly hair options?" John: "There are!" --- User: "Are sub-classes locked to the faction you’re in?" John: "No. They're themed towards factions, but you can choose a specialization from a separate faction than your own." --- User: "Will subtitles from companions be on screen with their icons lit up like in Inquisition?" John: "Subtitles will appear center-screen and have the speaker name attached. So you'll see who's saying what." --- User: "Regarding the cutscenes findable in the game, will a gallery be available for re-watch?" John: "Not at present, no. Since our cutscenes are (almost all) real-time in-engine, this would be nearly impossible with our tech."

[character limit text break!]

User: "What are the chances for a third World of Thedas volume after The Veilguard's release?" John: "I can't comment on specific plans, but World of Thedas is close to my heart and I'd love to do more in general with our ancillary books and products, once we're able to come up for air from the game." --- User: "Can we edit our race during character creator freely or are we locked in by choosing race first like in inquisition?" John: "Lineage informs a number of options after that choice - you can always go back in CC and change it, but it's the first decision you will make and changing it will reset the following decisions." --- User: "I did have a follow-up on lineage - do the other lineages/races also have background choices the way elves do with city/dalish? CAN we play a qunari raised within the Qun?" John: "So a couple of things, just to be super clear on this. There is no 'city elf/dalish elf' switch (for example) that you can pick in character creator. Each lineage can be each faction, though, and that will provide a baseline for your character you can further refine through role playing. For Elves, as an example - Veil Jumper elves tend to be more 'Dalish' to reflect that background, while Shadow Dragon elves tend to have a background that reflects being an Elf in Minrathous. Other factions have their own nuance. Importantly, those things tend to be more focused on how you relate to that faction, while leaving more general 'Elf' topics as something you have more freedom with. Or, TLDR - while choices at CC define some baselines around your character, we like to give you the opportunity to build your character's background and beliefs through in-game RP. Hopefully all that makes sense." User: "That does, and is right in line with what Corinne said during the Q&A! I was asking whether we would see the same background variety in the non-elven lineages." John: "Yes! Sorry, that's what I was trying to answer - there will be plenty of opportunities to RP who you are/were as the other lineages as well."

[character limit text break!]

User: "are there companions gifts again" John: "Isn't the gift of your presence enough? More seriously, though - you very well might find things in the world that certain companions would appreciate!" --- John: "Rook is generally assumed to be anywhere from late 20s to late 40s, but ultimately we don't give Rook a specific age. You can RP them to be however old you want." --- User: "will conversations be zoomed in like a cutscene type or zoomed out like in DAI?" John: "While we do have some 'lighter' conversations for specific types of content, they use a more traditional over-the-shoulder cinematic camera. I created the simple conversation system in DAI and while it did what we needed it to do, we heard the feedback on the camera loud and clear." --- User: "The darkspawn look fairly different in veilguard. Is ot a simple redisgn like the demons or is it due to them being enhanced by red lyrium?" John: "I'm not going to tell you WHAT it is that's making them look different, since that's a spoiler, but it's more than just a visual redesign." --- John: "Need and inspiration, mostly. We can't bring in every single animal out there, especially since we want the ones we DO put in the game to be at the right level of quality. So we pick the ones that we know make sense in the spaces we're building, and also it's based on what the team wants to do. If someone is incredibly passionate about bringing in a specific creature, it's something we want to give opportunities to pursue wherever possible. As to the general ecology of Thedas - there are absolutely similarities, but it's not 1:1. A world where megafauna still exist as apex predators (dragons) is going to have some pretty significant impact on what else exists." --- User: "does the lighthouse have a kitchen, can we eat and drink? what sort interactables are there at the home base" John: "Not going to get into specifics on interactables, but there is more to do in the Lighthouse than conversations with companions. The Lighthouse does have a kitchen, and your companions acknowledge it/use it both narratively and ambiently. Some maybe better than others." John: "A little more expansion on this - we want the Lighthouse to feel like a 'real space' as much as possible. That means making it a space that makes sense and, eventually, feels like home to you and your team. It also means spending a little extra time on how the companions (and Rook) use and exist in the space. At this point we've made a LOT of personal hub spaces in DA and ME, and we've learned a lot from doing so." --- John: "It wouldn't be a DA game if we didn't have some returning characters. We've shown some of the more obvious ones, and hinted at others, but we want to keep some surprises for launch."

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 8)

Masterpost

The next day was less chaotic but not by much. They had to go through everything they’d taken from the Fenton’s lab, and reluctantly accepted Danny and Jazz’s help with the task because they were familiar with the tech. That was surprisingly needed since all of their gadgets were extremely obtuse and looked like household appliances. It was honestly surprising how good Danny was with all of this stuff, he knew what everything was, how to take it apart and how to put it back together to show the heroes how it worked. 

“They don’t all work for humans. Some have to be fueled with ectoplasm so they need to be constantly refueled. Dad used to wear a backpack full of the stuff ghost busters style but that’s really not practical so this one isn’t very useful to you. I can use it though,” Danny said as he screwed the last part back on the.. Whatever it was. 

“Okay, but why does it look like a blender?” Tim asked, baffled and impressed.

“Oh that’s because that’s what it was built out of,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “We repurposed a lot of household items into tech. Give me a couple toasters and a microwave and I’ll have three specter deflectors ready for you before dinner time.” He said as he pressed his hand against one of the gins and it started glowing intently green.

“Here don’t drop it,” He said tossing it to Batman, who did manage to catch it. “I fueled it with three shots, just in case Vlad shows up or another ghosts threatens you. And actually even with your charms I would feel a lot better if you all had specter deflectors since you’re all involved with me now,” He sighed and rubbed his face. 

“Well… we can get you toasters and a microwave but we can also get you more advanced parts if those will work better,” Bruce told Danny, gingerly holding the odd gun away from himself. It wasn’t a traditional gun so it wasn’t upsetting but he still didn’t like it. 

Danny looked very tempted but he shook his head. “No I’d better do it with what I know, I can get it done faster that way and they work. I’d love to play with some of those more advanced parts though. I’m sure I can come with some fun stuff.” 

Uh oh, Bruce didn’t like that look on Tim’s face, the last thing he needed was more encouragement! But Danny was the child of mad scientists, he would get along perfectly with Tim, Bruce was going to have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a death ray. 

“You can join me in my lab later,” Tim offered hopefully and Danny glanced up at him with a borderline feral grin. 

“That sounds great, I’m sure you have much better lab safety than my parents. Love engineering, would hate to die a second time.” He said it like a joke, just the way Jason tended to. Jazz laughed, but only to encourage her brother’s coping method, no one else did. 

“Alright, we’ll go to the nearest home appliance store and get you some toasters and microwaves,” Bruce said. 

“Hell ya, I should have been adopted by a rich family years ago,” Danny cackled. Oh dear, he’d been so traumatized yesterday Bruce hadn’t realized he was Feral. Why did this keep happening.

He informed Alfred of Danny’s request and by the time they finished going over the more confusing inventions and left for lunch the appliances were waiting for Danny in the lab that he and Tim would apparently now be sharing. Danny immediately dove on the machinery starting to take them apart with practiced hands. He seemed calm and in his element but Tim stayed to supervise, both just in case something went wrong, and because it was His lab and they hadn’t talked about rules of cohabitation yet.

Bruce left them to it. Alfred had informed him that Jason had arrived and headed straight to the kitchen without saying hello to anyone else. It wasn’t a surprise, he was closest to Alfred, he’s want to help with making dinner, and get the basic scoop from his most trusted family member before having to face anyone else. Bruce knew better than to intrude on that, but God did he want to. 

Regardless of what his children thought Bruce cared deeply for all of them, and he hated that sometimes they doubted it. He wished he was better at telling and showing them, but he’d managed to convince himself it was too late for him to change so he didn’t have to face the years of mistakes and trauma he had endured and inflicted. No matter what what image he tried to project, he was still only human.

He went to his office, but he couldn’t settle to anything, he did a little bit of this, and little bit of that, and just ended up pacing the carpeted floor. He left them alone as long as he could before he gave in and went down to the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a cup of coffee,” He said as casually as he could. The looks Alfred and Jason gave him said neither of them actually believed his excuse, which was fair. “It’s good to see you Jaylad, thanks for coming.”

“Well I’m not going to miss out on a new brother am I? You gonna have this one running around in spandex too B?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, it made Bruce wince but it Was progress because he was acknowledging their familial ties. 

“I’m almost two years too late to stop him,” Bruce said regretfully. “It’s been… a lot has happened. I’m sure Alfred caught you up on most of it, but I’d like to talk to you before you meet either of the siblings.”

“Trying to make sure I won’t be a bad influence?” Jason asked and Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or accusing. 

“No, nothing like that,” Bruce said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Jason hummed skeptically, scrutinizing Bruce before turning back towards Alfred. “What do you think Alfie, can you spare me?”

“I always appreciate your help master Jason, but I can manage on my own,” Alfred assured, sounding amused. 

“Alright, to your office then?” Jason asked, turning back towards Bruce. 

“Or the sitting room, whichever would be more comfortable.”

“Office,” Jason said firmly, this was the distance that he was keeping between them. They worked together now, and Jason cared for his siblings, but he kept them all at arms length. For everyone’s safety really, if they set him off he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want to be set off either. It always felt like shit. Jason followed Bruce to the office and sprawled in the soft chair across the desk from Bruce’s. He remembered being a kid, sitting properly and nervously in this chair across from Bruce hoping desperately for his approval. How times change.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the new kids” Bruce started and Jason waved him away.

“I’m really not going to corrupt them or anything, I Probably won’t be around enough to make a difference anyway.” Jason said dismissively.

Bruce took a deep breath, controlling his expression and folding his hands on the table. “That’s not it Jaylad, Alfred must have told you that the boy died and came back?” 

Jason tensed and green swirled in his vision, it was the same thing that Bruce had seen in Danny when Zatana asked about Phantom. “Ya he did.” Defensive and insecure.

“It seems like he, and his sister who was sort of a caretaker to him, know a lot more than we do about the effect that that has on a person. To help us take care of Danny she gave us a presentation about it, it… makes a lot of sense. You should probably talk to her and Danny about it really but I just wanted to apologize. 

“I’ve been trying to fix this, fix… you for a long time and I know I’ve been going about it wrong and I’ve been hurting you.”

“You got a new treatment plan in mind, old man?” Jason asked, his arms crossed and Bruce wished that mistrust wasn’t earned. 

“No,” Bruce sighed looking down. “Really Jason I don’t, I know I was wrong. This is something I just didn’t know I didn’t know about,” He hated his own ignorance, he hated to admit it! He was Batman! The way he kept up with other superheroes was always being prepared for everything and knowing more than everyone around him, but he hadn’t even known there was something there to know!

“This isn’t about that, and it’s not about you staying away from the new kids. Exactly the opposite actually, since they know more about this, and Danny might be one of the few people who really understands what it’s like to die and come back like that, I was hoping you’d spend more time here, around them. I think it might help you both.”

“Huh,” Jason sounded, blinking rapidly because that was the most sincere apology he’d gotten from Bruce and he didn’t quite know how to react to it. “Maybe… maybe.” He hadn’t met the new siblings yet after all, maybe they’d hate each other. 

“Can I meet them now?” He asked looking back up at Bruce curiously. 

“Of course, the girl's name is Jasmine Fenton, called Jazz, the boy goes by Danny. Jazz is turning 18 soon, Danny is 16.” 

Right Tim had mentioned that, so Danny was about 3 years younger than him then. That shouldn’t matter too much, and maybe Tim will be right about the sister and can tease Jason about it. He’d been single for a while and wouldn’t mind changing that.

“Of course, I think you should meet Jazz first, she’s protective of Danny and she hasn’t been very involved in all of this. I think she’d feel better being allowed to… vet you first for lack of a better word. Are you okay with that?” Bruce asked Jason politely. 

“Sure, I don’t really care what order I meet them in and… Look Bruce I know I’m mad at you, and I was really hard on Timmy when everything was still raw. But I’m never going to knowingly hurt a kid, or make life harder for them. If I can help them I will,” Jason said sincerely. 

“Jason, the girl is less than a year younger than you. You’re a kid too,” Bruce said sadly. Jason froze for a moment, Yes he was 19, his mind wasn’t fully developed yet or whatever the hell, but he hadn’t felt like a kid since his death. Even before that, the responsibility for his mother, and then the work as a hero. Bruce wanted soldiers, Jason had never gotten a chance to be a kid really.

“Whatever,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing up, closing himself off from that sincerity. “Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in the library,” Bruce said, his lips twitching up in a smile. “She loves books almost as much as you did, though she seems to be more drawn to non-fiction.” 

Jason hummed and nodded, heading towards the door since he knew his own damn way to the library, Bruce didn’t have to lead! He did follow through, he was clearly protective of these kids so of course he would want to be there when Jason met them.

When he entered the library he saw a young woman sitting at one of the tables with some sort of text book. Her back was straight and her legs tucked under the chair with her ankles crossed. It looked like she was self consciously trying to look put together. She looked up at them, blue green eyes looking him over critically, he could practically see her picking him apart in her mind and he tried not to fidget.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jason Todd,” He said, walking over and offering her his hand to shake. She was very pretty, but he was surprised by his own complete lack of attraction, she just didn’t register that way, she seemed more… maternal almost.

“Ah, the dead son,” She chuckled, getting up from the table and reaching out to shake his hand, her grip was strong and her hands were soft and cool. “It’s nice to meet you, they mentioned you. Nothing bad,” She added when she saw her face. “And I don’t mean to be rude, I know some people are sensitive about their deaths being mentioned. Danny jokes about it all the time so… I just wanted to let you know that I know, and I accept you.” Jazz said with a warm smile. 

Her easy acceptance caught him off guard and before he could help it he was baring his teeth at her in a snarl, defensive and probing, did she mean it? She grinned sharper bearing sharp fangs at him in a matching sign of… friendly aggression, something inside him settled. He chuckled and took a step back. “Well thanks, nice to meet someone who doesn’t look like they bit a lemon every time I make a death joke.”

“It’s your death, as long as it’s healthy you can own that however comes naturally to you,” Jazz promised, sitting back down at the desk. “I’d love to talk more and get to know you, but we can do that later. You really should meet Danny.”

“You don’t want to come with us,” Bruce broke in, sounding worried. Jason had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn’t realized how… all encompassing the short interaction had been.

“I’ll probably follow,” Jazz said with a shrug, her gaze turning stern as she looked at Bruce. “Remember what I said about never breaking up a fight,” She told him firmly. 

Well if that didn’t make Jason nervous he didn’t know what did. Why would he fight with Danny? Would Danny fight with him? Why? “You really think it’s a good idea for us to meet? Why would we fight?” Jason asked her sharply.

“Of course,” she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, though her expression remained a little mischievous. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

Next

[birthanon]

I’m curious if you are going to write any more about births???

If you are I have a few ideas in mind for what you could use for prompts.

yes I do give your consent to use my prompts for your work.

Here is one of them

hidden pregnancy and the person is in a very serious meeting and they are having contractions they have to hide their pregnancy because the boss has a certain image and will fire them if they don’t comply with the guidelines.

P.s. if you do see this post I would love for the character to be male or ftm but it’s up to you 

Hi! Thanks so much for my first ask! I am definitely going to be writing more births. It's how I'm dealing with *gestures at America*. Thanks for this prompt! It kind of took on a life of its own, but I hope you like this little story.

Contains: trans mpreg, birth, extreme birth denial, clothing birth, public laboring, pushing the baby back in (multiple times). All my favorite stuff. Hopefully some of your favorite stuff too! (Story after cut)

Xander groaned, doubling over and clutching his stomach as yet another contraction struck. He’d lost his mucus plug the night before, and had been having contractions come and go throughout the night. Really, he knew the last thing he should be doing was going to work. But there was a very important meeting for a client today, and his boss had assigned him as the lead contact.

The elevator dinged to its destination, and Xander forced himself to straighten. He was already a fairly large man, so his baby bump passed as a beer belly. No one at the office, besides his boss, knew he was trans; and he was pretty sure no one at all knew he was pregnant.

Xander reached his desk and sat down with relief, stretching out his aching back. Just as he logged into his computer, someone tapped at the wall of his cubicle.

“Hello Xander,” his boss said, leaning against the wall. He was dressed immaculately; wavy brown hair, nicely tailored suit, shiny wing-tip shoes, classy golden watch. The man screamed wealth, and knew how to wear it. CEO of a successful tech company at a young age, John Wilson was practically a living embodiment of class. “ Are you ready for your presentation today?”

“I am,” Xander said, forcing a smile. “You can count on me, sir.”

John smiled. “Well then, stand up, give me a twirl.”

This was a normal action—Xander had been hired on as John’s assistant while he was still newly transitioned. One look at Xander’s scruffy facial hair and thrifted suit, and John had made Xander’s fashion choices his personal project. Still, it was harder today to get out of his chair and give the obligatory turn.

“You’ve gained some weight,” John observed. “You might need to make another trip to the tailors. And your packer’s in the wrong place. You look hard. Can’t have you hard in front of our client today. Here, put this on.” He tossed something to Xander, who caught it easily enough.

Xander glanced down at the fabric, and realized after some puzzling, that it was a pack strap. But it was strange. Instead of going around the thighs or sitting just around the waist it looked like some sort of very tight underwear with a hole for his packer. 

Obediently, Xander pocketed the strap and headed to the bathroom. Another strong contraction hit him while he was there, and he breathed hard through the building pressure. Something splattered into the toilet that wasn’t pee—or at least not only pee, and Xander groaned. Of course the baby would chose now of all times to decide to come, instead of last weekend when it was due.

Once the contraction was over, he cleaned up and put on the pack strap. It was very tight around his hips, and pressed firmly against his sensitive parts, but it did indeed manage to hold his packer at a more realistic angle. As he pulled on his boxers and pants and glanced down, he admired how natural it looked. No more bunching up, with this new strap.

Then Xander gasped as another contraction struck. Without the cushioning of his waters, the pain was much more acute. He was left panting as it passed. Not good. But it was his first baby, and a large one. Surely he could get through one more day of work. He didn’t have any more sick days available, not after how hard the morning sickness had got him earlier that year.

He came out of the bathroom, and spent about an hour going over his presentation, breathing through each contraction, feeling the baby slowly stretch him open inside. 

Then the alarm on his phone went off—time for the big meeting.

With a groan Xander got to his feet, bracing his back and shifting his weight carefully. While he’d been sitting and working, things had shifted. It felt almost as though the baby would fall right out of him if he moved wrong. Grabbing his things, he shuffled awkwardly to the meeting room on the next floor.

John was already on the elevator, and held the door open as Xander approached, breathing hard, face slightly red.

“Thanks,” Xander wheezed as he reached the elevator.

“Can’t have you late for the meeting,” John said with a smile. Some amount of alien tenderness came to his eyes. “Are you all right? You are looking a bit peckish.”

Xander’s chest fluttered—partly in fear that his secret would be discovered, partly from the tenderness of the attention. John wasn’t a tender man, not often. He ran a tight ship and expected perfection from his employees, and especially from Xander. But there had been once, about forty-two weeks ago, when they’d gone on a business trip together. John had gotten bad news, and they’d both drunk a lot. Xander had woken up the next morning in bed with a fast asleep John, completely naked, and sore between the legs. Panicked, Xander had quickly left the room and pretended it hadn’t happened. John had seemed too drunk to remember anything the night before and—well that’s why it was so crucial John didn’t find out. Xander had slept with no one else.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he’d gotten his breath back. “Just a bit nervous.”

To combat his assertion, the pain of another contraction wrapped around his belly. As he looked down, trying to breath away the pain, he swore he could see his stomach change shape with the strength of its force. Don’t push, don’t push, don’t push, Xander repeated to himself, pressing his legs close together as John watched.

Luckily, his boss didn’t seem to notice. He just patted Xander on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “You’ll do fine,” he said, then handed Xander a hanky. “But wipe your face off before you get up there. No need to look nervous. You are one of the most competent employees I have.”

Then the elevator had arrived, and the contraction was still going. Despite Xander’s reluctance to move or spread his feet apart, he had to get out before the elevator closed again. Under John’s careful eye, he took a shaky step out of the elevator. As soon as his legs spread, he could feel his baby’s head shift further down his canal. Forcing his face to casualness, he continued to walk forward as the contraction weakened and his stomach returned to its usual shape.

The client they were meeting with was rich, powerful, and—most importantly—a woman. John had picked Xander because of this last fact, citing Xander’s ability to interact with women without being sexist as a unique skill amongst the men in his business. This seemed a pathetic excuse to Xander, but wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity it gave him. If he succeeded in this, he was almost certainly due for a promotion. Which he needed—babies were expensive.

Stepping forward with a forced smile, Xander introduced himself to the client and to John, as well as a few other people there, and was in turn introduced to the client's team. With great relief, he took his seat as the meeting began. 

He did his best to focus, but his contractions had begun ramping up. It was harder and harder to disobey his body’s command to push, and the baby slipped deeper and deeper down his birth canal. He wrapped his shaking fingers tightly around the underside of the table to stabilize himself, crossed his legs hard enough he crushed his silicon dick between them, and did his best to ignore his body.

His tactics worked well for the first hour of the meeting, but then it was his turn to give a presentation. John and the client looked at him expectantly just as the strongest contraction yet seized his stomach. Xander forced himself to uncross his legs, which had practically glued themselves together with sweat, then slowly he stood. As he did, his core muscles engaged, and that was enough. The baby shot forward, down his canal, and his hole lit on fire.

He bit his lip in order to prevent a whimper of distress, disguising the whole thing by bending over and gathering his stuff until the contraction waned. As he took a step to the lectern, his hips ached, and his legs were forced awkwardly far apart, the bowling ball of a head lodged between them. 

Thus began his presentation, him standing behind the lectern, talking, legs spreading further and further apart as the baby spread his hole apart a bit more with each contraction. When he felt the pain coming, he’d pause his presentation to ask questions of his audience, ask them to talk amongst themselves. It was a bit like school, but it was interactive and kept them awake. Plus it gave him time to work through each contraction without it showing in his voice. For even the fluctuation of pain in his voice would have been a sign of failure in John’s eyes.

Finally, his part of the presentation wrapped up. He gathered his stuff, then waddled back to his chair. As he eased himself into it, he felt the baby’s crowning head press against the cushion, and then get shoved back inside of him. His eyes widened in pain, and he let out a little huff. He stifled it as soon as he noticed, then glanced around.

No one was looking at him, engaged in the next part of the meeting already. Xander sunk carefully back into his seat, his legs spread wide, his belly, much lower now, resting between them. 

As the others talked, he lost himself in the sensation of each contraction coming and going, of his baby stretching his hole little by little. The baby was large, and he couldn’t push much without drawing attention to himself, but still the fire was steadily, gradually increasing.

“Isn’t that right, Xander?”

Xander glanced up from his clasped hands, looking at his boss who’d addressed him. “Of course, sir,” he agreed instinctively, unsure of the context.

“Will the software development team be able to add the AI search feature before launch?” the client asked, likely a second time.

“They certainly could,” Xander replied. “We’ve got a great team, and they really know how to hit deadlines. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Apparently satisfied, the client turned back to her team, as another contraction increased the fire in his crotch ten-fold.  He was just thinking he was going to have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, when she reached out her hand. He took hers, and they shook. 

“We look forward to doing business.”

Relief shot through Xander, first because he had succeeded, and second because this hellish meeting was over and he could go back to his cubicle and at least groan through the contractions. There were still two hours left of the work day to get through.

Though he yearned to stay sitting right where he was, manners dictated he stand when she did and escort her from the room. As soon as he stood, gravity yanked the baby down further, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden movement after hours of progress a millimeter at the time.

Luckily, John was talking to the client and she didn’t seem to notice as he hobbled awkwardly after them. They got on the elevator, and Xander waddled bow-legged to the bathroom. As soon as he was there, he stripped his pants, dropped everything, and sat on the toilet seat. A contraction came, and for the first time he pushed. He reached down, feeling the head grow into his palm until the crown filled nearly the whole thing. 

It felt so good to push after so long, to obey the desire of his screaming body. Then the contraction stopped, and horror filled him. He couldn’t give birth, not in the middle of the work day. He’d be fired. So very fired. John would never stand the scandal. 

With shaking hands, he pressed against the baby’s head and began to gently push it back up into his canal. It felt wrong. White hot pain shot through him, and he couldn’t help but cry out. But slowly, surely, his hole closed back around the baby’s head. He’d bought himself a bit more time. 

The new pack strap pressed painfully against his sore, stretched lips. It was stained with blood and birthing fluids, but not enough to soak through to his pants. Exhausted, but steeled for another two hours of work, he washed up, checked himself in the mirror, then headed back down.

John met him as he came out of the elevator, clapping him on the back. “You did very well. Just as I said you would. And I’ve got you a reward. Come with me.”

Xander didn’t want a reward, he wanted to go back to his desk, sit on his comfy chair, and to not give birth in peace. But John wasn’t one who could be denied. So he followed John, who led Xander to a small office. The walls were completely made of glass, giving him a million dollar view of the city below, but also giving John, whose office was next door, a perfectly good view of everything Xander did.

“Thank you, sir,” Xander managed. “I don’t know what—” he trailed off as he noticed the desk’s height. There was no seat in sight. His new desk was a walking desk.

“I noticed your weight gain,” John said. “Thought you might enjoy the exercise while you work. Great job again!” Then he patted Xander on his shoulder, his hand lingering for just a second too long, then he was gone.

Xander stared at the desk, glanced back through the glass walls to see John watching him from his own desk, then back at the desk. His things were already there, on top, waiting. He had no excuse to go back. With a groan, Xander went to his desk, pressing his legs together to keep the baby in, and powered on the computer. Immediately, the wide treadmill began to move, forcing Xander to spread his legs and walk.

His hips ached, and the baby shifted painfully in his hips with each step. His hole burned as it began to emerge once again. Contractions came and went, and God he needed to push, but he couldn’t stop walking or he’d get yanked away from his computer and end up sprawled awkwardly on the floor in front of his hot boss. Just keep walking, Just keep walking, he chanted as the baby moved further and further down.

He tried to work, but he got nothing productive done. Focused only on walking and the burning of his privates, increasing more and more with each step. At the next contraction, the burning increased past what it had before. This is it, Xander thought as he walked, the baby’s going to come out in my pants, right in front of my boss.

But it didn’t. The movement stopped, and as the contraction ended, something forced the baby back to where it had been before the latest contraction. Xander whimpered at the painful, wrong sensation.

The process repeated over and over with each of the following contractions. The packer holder, Xander realized. It was tight enough it was holding the baby in place. 

The two hours passed torturously. The baby sat in a permanent crown between his legs as he waddled awkwardly on the treadmill, unable to stop and push, unable to make any progress. Alone in his office, he at least could whimper and groan as necessary, but he couldn’t get off the treadmill, couldn’t stop and push, without John seeing. And John was always looking.

Finally, five pm rolled around. Xander had been in active labor for seven hours. He was exhausted. Blurry minded, sore everywhere. But he had done it. He would call a cab, go to the hospital, and give birth to his child. 

Not even bothering to gather his stuff he staggered, shaky-legged, out the door. Only to practically run into John. 

“Seems like that exercise did you good,” he noted. 

Xander panted, another contraction striking him. Finally standing still, he couldn’t help but spread his legs slightly, and push. “Just. . .  not. . . used to . .  it,” he panted.

“You did very well today. I’d like to take you out to dinner, to celebrate our new client.”

No, please, Xander thought, eyes widening. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep up this charade. The baby had been literally spreading him at his fullest for hours. He couldn’t do a dinner. But one didn’t say no to a dinner with John, not if they valued their job. So Xander nodded, and found himself waddling after John.

“I’ll drive you there, we can come back and pick up your car after,” John said. Xander considered protesting, but John, as the boss, had prime parking, and his own car was parked an intimidating distance away. Plus, he didn’t trust himself to drive in this state. So he agreed. With numb, shaking legs, he staggered after John, collapsing in the car.

It wasn’t until his butt hit the seat and the baby’s head was shoved back inside, causing Xander to cry out, that he remembered sitting would be a bad idea.

“Are you all right?” John asked.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he got his breath back. “Just. . . hit my head. . . on the frame.”

John talked as they drove, and Xander tried to pay attention, but he was lost in exhaustion, the now familiar mantra of don’t push filling his mind. He couldn’t keep his legs together anymore. They were spread wide, but with each contraction, Xander forced his crotch firmly against the nice car seat, keeping the head in place just behind his lips. After so long of the agonizing stretch of a crowning head, having it deeper inside him was a strange relief.

Dinner was agony. Xander ate little, though the food was worth his entire paycheck, he was too nauseous, too exhausted. But John talked with a gusto, drinking glass after glass of wine. As the night wore on, John became clearly drunk. The casual touches on Xander’s shoulders and arms and hands began to linger. His cheeks glowed, his eyes gleamed in the candle light of the table.

The contractions were increasing, nearly constant now, frustrated at their lack of progress. Xander couldn’t take it any more. He needed to give birth. “I’m sorry sir,” he gasped, his hand pressing against the bulge in his pants. “Its been a great night, but I have to go.”

John reached across the table, grabbing Xander’s free hand. “You don’t have to call me sir, we’re off duty,” he said, catching Xander’s eyes. Then he paused, his eyes going down to where he held Xander’s hand, and he withdrew, coughing a bit. “You can, of course, head home as you need. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you take me home, since you are sober.”

Xander groaned, another contraction peaking. Tears of pain and frustration leaked down his face. But he agreed. John got up, swaying. And Xander stood slowly, awkwardly, his baby crowned in his pants, pressing against his worn packer-holder. The bulge bigger, the stretch far more painful than it had been during work. The fabric was wearing, allowing the head further and further out.

Together, the two men stumbled out of the restaurant and back to the car. John at least, didn’t seem sober enough to notice Xander very obviously pushing each time they hit a red light. He couldn’t help but push any longer. The baby had to come out. He needed to give birth.

The boss didn’t live far. Xander pulled up, red faced and relieved. He stood from the car, noticing the way the seat gleamed with wetness. He was leaking. 

A contraction came, and he grabbed the hood of the car and crouched, giving in to the push. The baby’s head inched further out, fighting his clothes’ restraining tension and winning. He groaned in pain and relief.

Then, “What are you doing?” John had come around the car.

Xander straightened immediately, but he could feel his baby’s fully crowned head pressing against his thighs. He couldn’t give in now, not after everything. He was so close. He just had to get John inside, then he could strip and birth, there on the sidewalk if he needed to. It wouldn’t take long now. The baby’s head was practically out.

“Just stretching,” Xander lied. “A bit sore, from. . .” Another contraction peaked, cutting him off. He stretched somehow, more, as his baby’s nose passed through his hole. He wanted to scream, wanted to collapse, wanted to strip. Instead he managed to just whimper.

“You seem beat,” John said. “Come on in, I’ll call you a cab.”

Trapped, Xander, was forced to step forward, away from the car, his baby’s head brushing his wide-spread legs with each step. Inside, Xander didn’t dare sit down, He stood in the corner legs obviously spread. He didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t have closed them if his life depended on it.

John stepped out, supposedly to make a call, and Xander crouched and pushed and moaned. Time passed. John came back in, a bottle of wine and a deck of card in hand. “Want to play a game while you wait?” he asked.

Xander couldn’t say no to John, so he nodded, forcing himself somewhat upright. Surely, John knew. Surely, he could see the massive bulge in Xander’s pants, the baby out to its ears. No one could be this oblivious? Xander wasn’t even acting anymore, actively moaning with each contraction, his legs spread like a baby deer’s.

“We’ll play strip poker. Your cab will get here before we get too far, I’m sure.”

Xander sat carefully on the couch, keeping his legs spread, hips tilted so the baby wouldn't be forced in again. The contractions continued, the pain immense as John sat across from him, and dealt.

Xander couldn’t focus, and so began to strip, gratefully out of his tie, then out of his suit jacket, then slipped off his shoes and socks. The cab still didn’t come. Xander forced himself to focus and won the next two hands, John choosing to take off first his suit, then his collared shirt, slipping it off while keeping his tie on.

Staring at John’s perfectly sculpted body, his tie hanging between his pecs, pointing a line at his abs and the trail of dark hair that led to his boxers, Xander suddenly knew that John had not called a cab.

He lost the next hand, and still trying to forestall the inevitable, removed his shirt. His stomach was bright red beneath his hair, riddled with stretch marks and bruises. Without a shirt on, it was very clearly a pregnant belly. John and Xander watched together as it visibly contracted.

John licked his lips.

Locked in the inevitableness, they played another hand. Xander lost.

“I can’t take off more,” he admitted. He could not remove his pants, not without pushing the head back in. And he hadn’t the will to do that to himself, not again.

“Let me help you,” John said. He came around the table, pushed Xander back on the plush couch, oh so gently. His warm fingers slid over Xander’s swollen belly, and Xander couldn’t help but moan in relief at the contact. The fingers continued downward, cradling the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. 

Another contraction came, and Xander pushed, face turning red. The baby’s head strained against the seam of his pants, massive. Then the contraction ended, and the head slid just a bit further in. “Please,” Xander begged, voice tight with pain and exhaustion. “Get them off.”

With his verbal consent, John nodded. He leaned forward, his bare stomach brushing Xander’s, until his face was a mere inch away. One hand cupped Xander’s cheek, the other the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. Then he closed the distance, pressing his mouth against Xander’s in an earnest kiss as he shoved the baby all the way back in. 

Shocked, Xander tried to scream, choking instead on John’s tongue. It was heaven and hell, all bundled into one, and Xander didn’t know how to process it. 

John pulled away, leaving Xander in a fugue. Vaguely, he was aware of John quickly working to remove his pants, his boxers, and his strap, leaving Xander completely nude before his billionaire boss. Xander spread his legs wide, not caring any longer, revealing folds glistening with birthing fluid, red and swollen from the stress of his delayed birth. 

John reached out, caressing Xander’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, Xander. So well today. This was a test, to see if you had what it took to be my spouse and the co-owner of my company. And you passed with flying colors. So, if you’ll have me, I will be yours, on one condition.”

Xander stared, heart pounding. John’s shirt was off. His pants too, were gone, though Xander didn’t remember him removing them. His member stood rigid in his boxers as he sat between Xander’s spread legs, meeting his eyes. He was the father of Xander’s child, everything he’d wanted, despite this torture he’d put Xander through. Xander had let him do it, because he’d wanted it. Wanted him. “Yes,” Xander said. “Anything.”

“Let me watch you birth our child.”

John knew. He'd known the whole time. But Xander wasn’t surprised anymore. This whole thing seemed inevitable. Perfectly planned. John, seeming no longer drunk at all. 

A contraction came, and Xander pushed. For the first time, he was free. He pressed his head to his chest, curled around his stomach, spread his legs wide and pushed with all his might. The head crept forward, dark curly hair spreading him wide. Xander screamed with effort. Took a deep breath, then pushed again, his contractions coming at a frantic pace.

The head stretched him wide, growing with each push. John’s hand came out, cupping the head as it emerged, massaging Xander’s lips. He cooed with each push. Whispered, “You are doing so well, Xander, so well. Look at this head we have created together. Look, there are its little eyebrows, its little nose, it’s little mouth.”

Then with one last push, the head was out. Long-held fluids gushed with it, spraying both John and his very expensive couch. But John was unphased. He smiled, one hand holding the baby’s head, the other reached out, rubbing Xander’s stomach. “Almost done now. Breathe. Let the baby turn.”

But Xander was done breathing. He couldn’t control himself anymore, lost the glorious pain of pushing. He pushed and pushed, screaming with the effort. With each contraction, the head bulged forward, then went back. No progress. He wasn’t making progress anymore! Tears of panic leaked. “I can’t do it,” he sobbed, frantic. “It’s stuck! It’s stuck!”

John’s hand left his belly, slipping into his hole alongside his baby’s neck, sending a burning pain through Xander’s nethers. He screamed, and John hushed him, hand far inside, alongside the baby’s neck.

Something dislodged in Xander’s hip. John ordered him to push. Xander complied, and he was stretched again, impossibly wide, by first one shoulder, then finally then next.

Panting, he opened his eyes, to find John cradling the crying baby. 

“It’s a boy,” John announced, then paused, smiling. “Well at least at the moment. Stellar job, Xander. Doing all this. I’m so very proud.”

Panting, Xander just smiled. 

“Stay here,” John ordered. “I’ll get the baby cleaned up, then I’ll help you. I’ve got a nursery all set up, and I have told the office we won’t be in for at least a month. Once we get you cleaned up, you can rest as much as you like. I’ll take care of feeding the baby. Then we’ll raise him and our company together. As partners.”