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muchosbesitos · 1 day ago

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DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

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dark-dragon-8 · 2 days ago

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A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's ��𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

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cmkren · 2 days ago

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— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

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undercoverslutt · 1 day ago

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bestiesolderbrother! simon <- masterlist simon "ghost" riley x reader

during the summer before sophomore year.

let's take a blast to the past, okay?

"So, when are you going back to college?" His voice flings from across the room, and it's like his timber is clawing up your back, you feel it at your neck. Simon's voice did so much to you, it was so different than all the other guys at your campus. So deep, provocative and protecting. He was only a few years older than you, and his sister. He didn't go to college like you two, but he was extremely smart. He came back from bootcamp earlier in the summer, and was staying at his parents house until he could find his own place.

Simon was the "problem child", always getting into trouble, never really knowing what was next with him. But he was so smart, street smart. You never felt more safe with a man's presence in your entire life. Your dad was never around, and your mom never really cared where you went off to. So you were always here, with your best friend and her older brother, and their parents. You did like being in their company, this was your second home, if need be. And sometimes you did need it. No, you didn't really need to be here for the comfort aspect, but when your mom locked you out of the house one too many times, you couldn't help but need to come to take a few showers and get some spare clothes from your best friend during the summer. Her parents were very understanding. Even if they didn't talk about it much, it was almost unspoken.

"I go back in like," You close your eyes as you tally up the days, feeling a bit overwhelmed at having to talk to this guy, "I'd say a month and a half."

This was going to be your sophomore year in college. Were you ready for school again? No. Did you want some new atmosphere? Yes. Were you missing your own dorm? Yes. You didn't have a roommate, thank the heavens.

It was really quiet in this part of town. And your best friend's got a new boyfriend so she's rarely ever home anymore, let alone when you guys go off to college. You barely see her at all. It's like you're living in her house, without her. But she said she would be back later tonight so you guys could go out to eat, maybe? That's if her man doesn't string along

But Simon was here a-lot of the time. And he was nice to you. Very respectful. Trying to make you feel as normal as possible. He tended to ask you many questions when you guys were alone, and you thought it was sweet. He just wanted you to be able to talk to someone. About anything.

"Excited?" He continues.

"Yeah, I am." You let out a laugh, you know your non-enthusiastic character was completely juxtaposing everything you were saying. "It's just school though, you know?"

Simon nods, and starts picking up a jacket, almost like he was following your movements. "You got a boyfriend that I need to know about?"

A boyfriend?

"No?" You say shortly. You weren't in the mood for guys, I guess. You begin pulling your shoes from the cubby, you always put them in the third box to the right. It was yours at this point. "Not at the moment, Si. Why are you asking?"

You begin to tie your shoes, bending down so you don't have to look at him at all. You don't know if you feel embarrassed, awkward, or just weirdly protected by his questions. He's quiet for awhile. "If you're anything like my sister, I want to give you some advice."

Advice. Please.

"Don't be like her, okay?" He starts off, and you fucking laugh. You fucking laugh, and he stops in his tracks. "What? I'm being serious."

"I am too. You don't have to worry about my decision-making. If that's what you're saying." You look up at him finally. So he's just trying to be that type of person right now. One thing you hated, was someone trying to give you "advice" on shit you didn't need help with. You were fine on your own and always had been. You didn't need anything. You didn't need a parent.

"No, no, not at all." He repeated, finally situating a jacket on his bulky body. "I'm just saying."

"What?" You want him to continue, but you don't know if he will.

"Just be careful." He stops, zips up his jacket and grabs his phone. You grab your keys and the bag you had brought. The next words he says are heavy to you, and slow, like he's trying to make you understand what he was trying to say. "You've grown up."

That heat crawls back, down to your palms and up your neck. He was acknowledging you. "I know, Simon."

You wanted to say something more about this, but the only thing happening was a weird, tight-lipped smile on your face. "I'll catch you later, ghost."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #phantom writes #bestiesolderbrother!simon

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fatgirlonadate-blog · 2 days ago

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21 Days - Day 15

Something inside of Xavier has shifted. You can’t quite define it or give it a name, but you can sense it, see it in every glance and feel it in every touch. He is not the same man he was yesterday.

What a difference a day can make.

The change isn't anything obvious—most things haven't changed at all. He is as shy and sweet and earnest as he has always been. He still blushes when you touch him, he still pouts when you tease him, and he is still playful and warm.

But the shadow behind his eyes, the hint of sadness in his smile, is disappearing. There is a growing certainty in him that was not there before, as if he has made a choice -some choice- and it has freed him in a way that seems to extend beyond just his secrets.

It's absurd, but you can't shake the thought that he chose you yesterday—that, somehow, you were always a choice he had to make. You don’t even know what the alternative might have been, but now, when he looks at you, the affection in his eyes feels complete, as if it’s here to stay.

Maybe his fevered promise not to leave again was truly meant for you after all. But that only raises more questions—had he been planning to leave you? And when did he leave the first time?

If you were the choice, then what was the other option?

He has remained tight lipped about this particular detail - unwilling to share any part of it. Other small secrets about his past have trickled out in fragments over the past 24 hours—never fully explained and always a little vague, but still unmistakably genuine. He’s trying to open up, and you’re trying your best not to push him. The rest will come later, you tell yourself.

In the meantime, you have a much more immediate issue to deal with.

There is no other way to put it - Xavier has become adorably, maddeningly clingy. He hasn’t let you stray more than an arm’s length since yesterday, and if he weren't so infuriatingly old fashioned, you're pretty sure he'd have slept with his cock buried deep inside you last night. Instead, he’d settled for holding you close, your back pressed firmly to his chest, with his hand resting possessively between your thighs.

It’s not exactly a bad thing; in fact, you love him even more like this. Every time he teleports to your side instead of walking, you can’t help but laugh, as if the seconds saved are simply too precious for him to waste. You marvel at the confidence in his touch now, the way he explored your body this morning like he owns it. And you fall even deeper for him every time he willingly gives you some crumb of information about who he really is.

You're savoring every moment with him and wish you could pause time and stay like this, just the two of you, forever. But you have a plan today - one that he cannot be a part of because it would spoil the surprise.

"Xavier," You whisper, trying to pull away from his insistent kisses, "I really do have to go soon. I have to check in with Jenna. In person this time. You know how she feels about being kept waiting."

Xavier acts as if he didn’t hear you, keeping you pinned firmly against the front door. His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, biting gently before soothing it with a warm flick of his tongue. By now, he’s already delayed you at least ten minutes with those distracting, lingering kisses—reminders of just how skilled he is with his mouth.

"Xavier," you say more firmly.

He huffs as he pulls back just far enough for his blue eyes to lock onto yours, and the pout in them is nearly enough to break you.

"Why are you calling me that?" He asks, his forehead dropping to yours as he holds you to him, his nose rubbing against yours.

"What?"

"You usually call me Xav now. Or bunny."

A soft laugh escapes your lips at his confused, slightly pouty tone. "Xavier… Xav, I really need to—"

"But...," He protests, ducking his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck again. "Let's go together. We're partners. I go where you go."

"It's supposed to be 24-hour surveillance, Xav. You know we both can't go. We already agreed on this yesterday."

"Yesterday was yesterday. Can't we make a new agreement today?"

The whine in his voice is killing you, but you really do want to surprise him. This birthday needs to be special; he deserves to feel special.

"Not this time, Xav."

Xavier's mouth trails down to your neck, each kiss sending a spark through you as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning as you feel the insistent press of his hardness against you, even through the layers of clothing.

"Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?" he murmurs, his voice a low, promising whisper.

His mouth is pure temptation against your skin, making it hard to remember why you need to leave. But there will be time for this later—hopefully endless time, forever, if you have anything to say about it.

"Bunny, please." You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair to gently tug his greedy lips away from your skin. "I have to get going. I'm going to be late."

Xavier pulls back and fixes you with the saddest puppy dog eyes that have ever existed. "I can't believe you'd actually...leave me alone in this house."

"I'll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. And I won't be gone long."

Xavier sighs and nods as his arms tighten around your waist. He lets out a defeated groan, and mumbles, "How long?"

"It's just a few hours. I'll be back before you know it." You smile gently at the boyish sulk that has spread across his face as he continues to mope and press small kisses along your jaw.

Finally he gives in and lets out a heavy sigh that fans out along your skin. “Alright,” he grumbles, releasing his hold on your waist and taking a step back.

The small bit of distance clears your head just enough, and you shake it slightly, trying to dispel the lingering desire coursing through you. God, this man has you so wrapped around his finger that you can barely think straight.

You flash him a quick smile and turn to open the door, but pause, throwing him a puzzled look as he moves to follow you.

"Xav, you know you can’t come with me, right?" you say, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your voice.

He nods, pulling the door open and gesturing for you to go ahead, slipping an arm around your waist as he guides you through. "I know," he says with a grin. "I’m just escorting you to the station. I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?"

It’s hard to believe that the man who used to vanish for days, even though he was just next door, now can’t imagine being apart from you for more than a few hours. It’s a clinginess you’re not used to—not from him, not from anyone—but oddly, it doesn’t bother you. There’s something deeply comforting about being wanted this much, and you can’t help but hope it never changes.

"I’ll miss you," you say, rising on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Xavier’s cheek as your train pulls into the station. "And try not to blow up the house while I’m gone, alright?"

He looks like he wants to argue, his hand tightening around yours, but then his eyes soften, and he gives you a gentle smile, slipping into his practiced, fake-husband role. “Come back soon, Mrs. Shen. Stay safe.”

He’s an exceptionally good fake husband. So convincing, in fact, that the word itself—fake—irritates you as it echoes in your mind on the train ride into the city. Your marriage to him is fake, yet with each passing day, it feels more real. The thought of it ending… It's almost unthinkable.

As soon as you step off the train and into the city, your plan for the day begins to unravel. The check-in with Jenna is mercifully brief, but her urgency to wrap up this mission leaves you tense and uneasy as you navigate sidewalks that are already too slick for comfort.

Snow in October is a rarity in Linkon, but here it is—thick, heavy flakes falling from the sky, dusting the sidewalks in a thin layer of white. It’s beautiful, but bitterly cold, and you're not dressed nearly warm enough for it.

You shiver as you wander from shop to shop, collecting things for Xavier’s birthday. A surprise party had crossed your mind, but inviting a bunch of fellow hunters to your covert mission apartment didn’t exactly scream discreet. So instead, you’ve opted for something simpler—something you hope he’ll love, even if it has the potential to set the place on fire.

But if it makes him happy? It just might be worth the risk.

The cake ingredients were easy enough to acquire, but the decorations were trickier, the items scattered throughout the city, rather than all together in one single shop. By the time you finish collecting everything for the perfect birthday cake, you're freezing and damp with snow.

The warmth of the nearby cafe and the promise of something sweet was impossible to resist, and you sigh with relief as you dump your shopping bags onto a table and strip off your cold, damp jacket. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and three macarons later, your phone buzzes in your purse. You dig through the clutter of your wallet and keys to find your phone. It vibrates in your hand again as you pick it up and the screen glows with a notification:

(4) Voice Messages from Xavier

Xavier: Is it snowing there?

Xavier: We ran out of vinegar. Can you get some on your way home?

Xavier: Are you on your way back yet?

Xavier: Are you talking to someone outside right now?

You try not to smile at your phone like an idiot, but you fail as warmth floods through you at the sound of his voice. It’s amazing how a handful of words can make you feel so secure. There's something foreign but comforting about having someone care for you like this - someone waiting for you to get home. It's been a long time since you've had such a simple luxury, and you hadn't realized how much you've missed it.

You: I have to stop and pick up a few more things. But I'll be home soon.

Xavier: What do you want for dinner?

You're contemplating the least disastrous option as footsteps approach your table, and you glance up just in time to see a familiar face.

"Fancy meeting you here, miss bodyguard. There are easier ways to find me, you know. You don't have to stalk me." Rafayel smirks.

He slides into the chair across from you, meeting your wide-eyed gaze as he casually plucks a green macaron from your plate and takes a bite.

Has he always looked like that? you wonder as he flashes you a playful, disarming smile.

Seeing Rafayel is like looking at a masterpiece—he’s almost too perfect, so striking it’s hard to believe he’s real. You thought you’d grown used to his looks ages ago, that you had built up a certain immunity to it. But a few weeks apart have undone that, leaving you vulnerable to his effortless charm again.

Xavier is undeniably handsome, but Rafayel—even dressed simply in a sweater and dark pants—is goddamned majestic.

"Raf! Hey! Uh, what...what are you doing here?" You manage, surprised.

He's wearing his signature look of lazy amusement. His inky purple hair is slightly damp from snow, and he runs a hand through it as he takes another bite of your dessert.

"What do you mean? I come here all of the time. Shouldn't I be asking you that question? You're supposed to be locked away somewhere trying to catch a bad guy, yeah?"

"Oh, shut up. I haven't been locked away; the mission is just taking a while. I came into town today for a mission update." You say, and wave toward your bags, "and some shopping."

His eyes flick toward your bags, narrowing on the pastel letters spelling 'Happy Birthday' across the card that's peeking out.

"Mission update, hm? Interesting," he drawls as he pops the remaining bit of macaron in his mouth. "I'm surprised you escaped your tower, your highness. You haven't really bothered to respond to my texts for the past week. I was starting to think you'd been captured or that you got possessed by Wanderers or something."

"Uh," you stammer, quickly sliding another bag over the one he's eyeing, shifting awkwardly in your chair. "Sorry about that. I’ve just been... really busy."

Though his tone is playful, there's a hint of hurt beneath it that tugs at your heart, just as it always does. He’d deny it until he was blue in the face, but you know he can’t stand feeling ignored—and it sucks to know you're the reason for it this time.

He shrugs and leans back, draping his arms across the back of his chair as he casually crosses an ankle over his knee. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Secret missions and saving the world and whatever. Same as always."

The tired sound of resignation in his voice makes your smile falter, and you can only guess at what's really going on behind those galaxy eyes of his.

After countless late-night phone calls, you used to wonder if there might be something real between you and Rafayel. He was a flirt—that much had been clear from the start—and you’d brushed off his advances, wary of reading too much into them. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, when the flirting grew a little more heated or the light touches became bolder and hungrier, you were almost certain there was something more. That he felt it, too.

But he never took it further, and the moment would fade as if it had never happened at all.

It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, tearing your gaze away to stare out the window. The sky has darkened, snow falling steadily against the glass, and your train will be leaving soon. Whatever might have been between you is just a memory now—one you are scared to dwell on any longer.

"We'll catch up when my mission is over, okay?" You swear, rushing the words as you stand up and shove your jacket on, reaching for the bags on the floor. "I'll come over, you can tell me all about your newest exhibit, and we'll make fun of Thomas together. I pinky promise."

"What?" His eyes widen, and he quickly stands, reaching out to still your hand as you go for another bag. "You’re leaving already? You just got here."

"Raf—" You sigh, guilt gnawing at you for more than one reason. Xavier is waiting. "I really do have to go. My train leaves soon."

His grip tightens around your wrist, his warm hand almost scorching hot as he stares at you with a rare flash of desperation in his eyes. It makes him look vulnerable for just a fraction of a moment, and something inside you tightens, torn between the urge to ease the ache you've caused in him and the need to put distance between yourself and old feelings you’d rather not think about.

"Let me walk you to your stop then," he says, his tone light and easy, but he's still holding your hand prisoner. His suggestion isn’t really a suggestion—it’s more of a demand.

"Fine," You say, rolling your eyes dramatically even as a smile forces its way onto your face. "But make yourself useful. Help me carry this stuff."

Rafayel grins and lets go of your wrist, bending to scoop up most of the bags. "Jeez, these are pretty heavy. I better get some kind of awesome reward for all of this labor."

A chill wind and swirling snowflakes greet you as you step out of the café, making you mutter a curse under your breath. If you’d known it was going to snow, you’d have worn a real coat.

"I hate snow," you grumble as you fall into step beside him.

"What do you mean?" he grins, bumping your hip with his. "Snow is like magic. Look around!"

He gestures to the snow-dusted trees and buildings blanketed in white. "Each flake is unique, perfect in its own way, turning everything ordinary into something miraculous, if only for a moment. And...it also looks really pretty in your hair."

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his words make you feel warm despite the chill wind cutting through the thin material of your jacket. Maybe you don’t actually hate snow after all.

The walk to the station goes by in a blur as you catch up on the last two weeks: gossiping neighbors, Thomas, how cold the city is this year, his new exhibition, your boring surveillance work—keeping it light and casual.

It almost feels like nothing has changed—the two of you chatting, him cracking jokes and teasing you to get a reaction, and the way your stomach flutters every time he brushes against you. He doesn’t do that by accident; you're sure of it.

A pang of longing hits as you realize just how much you’ve missed this. Despite how he gets under your skin like no one else, his friendship means more than you’d ever care to admit.

Yes, he drives you crazy, and your feelings for him are confusing—but he’s always had this way of making the world seem brighter, lighter, and somehow more beautiful than you could ever see it on your own.

"It's so cold. I’m frozen solid," you declare, setting your bags down on the bench outside the train station. You’re about ten minutes early, and the air is only getting colder. Your fingers sting with the chill, and you blow on them in a vain attempt to warm up.

Rafayel sets the rest of the bags beside yours with a chuckle, shaking his head, "You're right, it is cold. Too cold for my delicate hands." He pouts, his brows knitting together as he exaggerates a shiver and opens his arms wide. “Hold me.”

"Raf..." You laugh, amused and exasperated.

"Come on, cutie. Don't you know how body heat works?" He quirks a brow, stepping toward you. "You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you?"

His smile is dazzling, effortlessly charming, and completely irresistible—the kind that melts your resolve into a mushy mess. It’s the sort of smile that can't be refused.

You reluctantly return his smile, already mostly deaf to the alarm bells ringing in your ears, and step into his embrace. “Okay, okay. Just for a little while.”

Rafayel laughs, a warm sound rumbling through his chest as he wraps one arm tightly around you, pulling you close. With his other hand, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing gently over your cheek and neck. The sharp, clean scent of him—citrus and sea salt—fills your senses as you lean into him, soaking in his warmth.

The alarm in the back of your mind grows louder, more frantic, the closer you get. Yet the soft thrum of his heartbeat, syncing with yours, drowns it out, and the warmth of his breath against your skin is enough to silence the knot of warning you feel in your stomach. The familiar scent that clings to him wraps around you like a shield, blocking out even the smallest of doubts.

"Hold still," he says softly, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently combs it out. "You've got snowflakes in your hair."

A sarcastic remark hovers on the tip of your tongue—of course you have snowflakes in your hair, he does too, it's snowing—but the warmth in his eyes as he strokes your hair holds you silent. His fingers are gentle as he carefully smooths your hair back even as more snowflakes continue to fall, and he leans even closer to see his task clearly in the dim evening light.

Your cheeks flush as he moves closer, leaning into you, and a familiar warmth builds inside of you, making it hard to breathe evenly. You turn your head away from his hand, but he frowns and gently cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his.

"Hey," he scolds gently, "I'm not done. Don't move."

But his hand doesn’t return to your hair. Instead, he gently caresses your reddening cheek, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You're being pretty shy," he murmurs.

And you are. No sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks come to mind, not with the way he’s pressed against you, the softness of his touch on your cheek, and with his face so close to yours. The only sound you can make is a quiet hum that doesn't mean anything at all.

His eyes roam from your cheek to your ears and down to your neck, and he slides his hand along the same path. "Hmm. Your cheeks, and your ears, and even your neck...are all so cold. Do you want me to help warm you up?"

It’s not just warmth in his eyes anymore; it’s heat, and your stomach flips as he drops the tone of his voice to a low purr. The feel of his warm breath against the side of your neck makes your pulse quicken and your own breath catches in your throat.

"Is it working?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

You nod, barely breathing, as the heat that has built inside of you threatens to ignite into a blaze, your body trembling as you press against him.

“What about here?” Rafayel asks, shifting to the other side of your neck. His warm breath caresses your cool skin before he nuzzles close, trailing slow, lingering kisses from your ear to your neck.

He’s never kissed you before; of that, you’re certain. Yet somehow, in this moment, it’s as if you’re reliving a memory. His warmth, his scent, his touch, the way his body presses against yours—it feels natural, achingly familiar, as if you’ve known it all along. You could lose yourself here, drown in the sensation, and never surface again.

You’re trembling, but not from the cold, as Rafayel pulls back, his hands gently cupping your face. “You’re so quiet,” he says, his voice laced with curiosity. “I haven't the slightest idea of what’s going on in that head of yours. Have my awesome heating skills truly rendered you speechless?”

All you can manage is a shaky laugh, more like a breathless gasp, unable to form a single coherent word as a wave of déjà vu hits you, overwhelming and intense.

"Looking at my bodyguard..." He pauses, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I can't tell if she's happy right now..." Leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then locks eyes with you. "Or maybe she's not?"

You stare, wide-eyed, unable to break free from the grip of the dizzying familiarity of this all— frozen in place by how deeply, unexplainably right it all feels.

"Raf, I..." You trail off, lost for words, unsure of what you're trying to express, but knowing you have to say something. Anything. That you can't do this with him, or that you need more of him. Or that, sometimes, two things can be true.

Before you can untangle your thoughts or find the words to express your conflicted feelings, he silences you with a kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative—his lips brushing softly against yours. Then the kiss deepens, his mouth pressing to yours with an intensity that feels raw, as if the longing comes from the depths of his soul.

You’re drowning now, clinging to him as if he’s your anchor amid the waves of emotion and memory crashing over you. For a moment, time and space collapse, and it feels like this has always been your life, as if this is just one second in a lifetime spent with him like this.

But the brush of his tongue against yours snaps you back to reality, and you tense in his arms, your hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him away.

"What?" he whispers, breaking the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you want me to stop?"

His voice sounds so tender and hopeful that it breaks your heart a little, and your stomach twists with guilt as you lean away from his embrace.

In another life, you’d beg him to keep going. In another universe, you’d be his completely—mind, body, and soul. You can feel the way his heart calls your name.

But not this life; not in this universe. In all of the world, there is only one call your heart answers to, and it is Xavier's.

“Raf,” you whisper, your voice soft and aching, “I’m so sorry, but—”

"I know what you're going to say," Raf cuts you off before you even finish, hurt replacing the warmth in his eyes, "Sooo you don't have to say it."

He drops his hands from your face and steps back, and the cold wind that cuts through you is nothing compared to the burning ache flaring to life in your chest.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few snowflakes, and lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess things with the ‘fake’ husband aren’t so fake anymore, yeah?”

"I love him," you admit, the words escaping before you can stop them, leaving you stunned. You’d never said it out loud before, never dared to voice what you felt. But now it’s out, and there's no taking it back.

Rafayel laughs again, a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat, and looks up at the sky as if searching for an answer there. After a moment, he groans softly before his eyes return to yours, "Oh, that intense, huh?"

You nod, silent, unwilling to say anything more for fear of deepening the hurt in his eyes. The few feet of space between you feel insurmountable, and you itch to close the distance, to reach out and comfort him somehow.

Rafayel sighs, his hand motioning toward the empty air, as if Xavier were standing here, too. "Is he... is he better than me?"

"No, Raf," You groan, the ache in your heart burning even brighter, "He's not better. It's just...different. I can't explain it."

Rafayel looks away again, his lips pressing together in a tight line, before turning back to you with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. "Just...promise you won't forget about me, okay?"

Tears sting your cheeks, and the hurt, desperate sound of his plea is all the proof you need to understand that a broken heart can keep breaking.

"Oh, Raf, I could never forget about you," you promise, stepping closer. You reach for his arm just as the train pulls into the station, the loudspeaker announcing its arrival.

"I won’t," you swear, ignoring the blaring sound. "Never."

He steps back from your outstretched fingers, and his voice and eyes harden as he replies, "You will. You always do."

The train stops, passengers streaming past, and you open your mouth, trying to reassure him—but no words come. A wave of uncertainty hits as his cryptic words echo in your mind, and you fail to make sense of them.

The option to reach for him, to pull him close and comfort him, is stolen from you as he turns around and starts walking back in the direction you came.

"Get on the train," he calls over his shoulder, "Don't keep Romeo waiting."

You hesitate, your fist clenching as your heart and mind fight for control. Watching him walk away feels like losing a part of yourself, though you can't quite understand why.

You board the train with tears in your eyes, and search through your purse for your phone. You send a quick message to Xavier to let him know you'll be there soon, and try to collect the pieces of your heart as the train speeds toward home.

Xavier chose you yesterday. And today, you chose him.

This star isn't going anywhere.

#lads fanfic #lads x reader #lads xavier #love and deepspace #lnds #fanfic #xavier x reader #lads sylus #lads rafayel #l&ds xavier #l&ds rafayel #l&ds

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gendrie · 2 days ago

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arya/gendry and ned/catelyn are not frequently considered alongside each other, but i think theres a surprising amount that they have in common as pairings. all four characters have explicit connections to one another within the story too.

obviously, arya has a relationship with both of her parents. that makes the fact that gendry has interacted with both of them all the more compelling to me. arya has a deep appreciation for her parent's marriage. she is the only stark child we see deeply value the love between ned and catelyn. it wasn't the most flashy, but it was a very successful and loving partnership between two people. especially by westeros standards.

GENDRY AND NED

Ned nodded. He decided that he liked Tobho Mott, master armorer. "If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior." (Eddard, AGOT)

when gendry met ned he was his typical outspoken, rude self, but this didnt bother ned in the slightest. by the end of the scene ned is trying to recruit gendry into his household. he promises on robert's deathbed to look out for his friends children thinking of gendry and the others. he did not get a chance to guard the bastards but arya looked out for gendry while they were together.

arya and gendry have a couple conversations about ned too. gendry isnt overly impressed but it shows a familiarity between the two. he knows her family history.

GENDRY AND CATELYN/LADY STONEHEART

"M'lady means for you to answer for your crimes." "M'lady." The wine was making her head spin. It was hard to think. "Stoneheart. Is that who you mean?" Lord Randyll had spoken of her, back at Maidenpool. "Lady Stoneheart." "Some call her that. Some call her other things. The Silent Sister. Mother Merciless. The Hangwoman." (Brienne, AFFC)

arya really wanted gendry to come home with her. she says she will tell her mother how he helped her, but gendry brushes this gesture off. he did not want to serve her family, but thats exactly what ends up happening. gendry was there when they found catelyn's body in the river and beric gave her his last life. now, he serves lady stoneheart and seems to have no issues doing so. he appears to be loyal to what remains of catelyn stark.

RIVERRUN

And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully. (AGOT) You could have made swords at Riverrun for my brother, she thought, but what she said was, "If you want to be some stupid outlaw knight and get hanged, why should I care? I'll be at Riverrun, ransomed, with my brother." (ASOS)

ned and catelyn were married at riverrun; her childhood home and the same castle arya was trying to reach with gendry. i wouldn't rule the two of them actually getting there at some point as i think its likely the bwb will try to take riverrun in twow.

BROTHEL SCENES

“A brothel,” [Ned] said as he seized Littlefinger by the shoulder and spun him around. “You’ve brought me all this way to take me to a brothel.” “Your wife is inside,” Littlefinger said. It was the final insult. “Brandon was too kind to you,” Ned said as he slammed the small man back against a wall and shoved his dagger up under the little pointed chin beard. (AGOT) “I bet this is a brothel,” [Arya] whispered to Gendry. “You don’t even know what a brothel is.” “I do so,” she insisted. “It’s like an inn, with girls.” He was turning red again. “What are you doing here, then?” he demanded. “A brothel’s no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that.” […] Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man’s shoulder, and squeezed. “Leave her be.” (ASOS)

not your average scene setting for an asoiaf pairing, but both end up in brothels together. ned has one of his most aggressive outbursts when littlefinger suggests catelyn is a whore and gendry steps in to defend arya when she is mistaken for one too

MY LADY/M'LADY

Inside, Catelyn was waiting. She cried out when she saw him, ran to him, and embraced him fiercely. "My lady," Ned whispered in wonderment. (AGOT) "If you start calling me m'lady, even Hot Pie is going to notice. And you better keep on pissing the same way too." "As m'lady commands." (ACOK)

self explanatory but catelyn is ned's lady. gendry calls arya m'lady both in deference and anger.

AN OUTSIDER

He slid Ice back into its sheath. "You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my lady?" Catelyn took her husband's hand. (AGOT)

"No," the old man said. "Northmen, they were. Savages who worship trees. They wanted the Kingslayer, they said." Arya heard him, and chewed her lip. She could feel Gendry looking at her. It made her angry and ashamed. (ASOS)

gendry is a southerner like catelyn so neither is fully comfortable with the faith of the old gods. its a cross cultural barrier both relationships share.

WEIRWOODS

Catelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone. The greatsword Ice was across his lap, and he was cleaning the blade in those waters black as night. A thousand years of humus lay thick upon the godswood floor, swallowing the sound of her feet, but the red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came. "Ned," she called softly. He lifted his head to look at her. "Catelyn," he said. (AGOT) The next day they rode to a place called High Heart, a hill so lofty that from atop it Arya felt as though she could see half the world. Around its brow stood a ring of huge pale stumps, all that remained of a circle of once-mighty weirwoods. Arya and Gendry walked around the hill to count them. There were thirty-one, some so wide that she could have used them for a bed. (ASOS)

arya/gendry and catelyn/ned have scenes among the weirwoods or whats left of them. gendry becomes a knight of the hollow hill too.

HIS FURY

"They say your friend Robert has fathered a dozen bastards himself." "And none of them has ever been seen at court!" Ned blazed. "The Lannister woman has seen to that. How can you be so damnably cruel, Catelyn? He is only a boy. He—" His fury was on him. "That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high." Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it." "Yes it is."

they fight! i really do think they strike a similar cord too. arya and catelyn feel comfortable arguing with them and ned and gendry do get angry but thats a normal aspect of all relationships

IN THE BUFF

So when they had finished, Ned rolled off and climbed from her bed, as he had a thousand times before. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, letting the night air into the chamber. The wind swirled around him as he stood facing the dark, naked and empty-handed. Catelyn pulled the furs to her chin and watched him. (AGOT) For a moment she did not think he understood, but then he slid out from under the blankets. Naked, he padded across the room, shrugged into a loose roughspun tunic, and climbed down from the loft after her. (ACOK)

no comment

BEAUTIFUL

[...] Catelyn replied, watching the sword as he stroked it. She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. (AGOT) Then he'd go off to polish his helm. It was a beautiful helm, rounded and curved, with a slit visor and two great metal bull's horns. Arya would watch him polish the metal with an oilcloth, shining it so bright you could see the flames of the cookfire reflected in the steel. Yet he never actually put it on his head. (ACOK)

arya staring at gendry here is a solid indicator that she's developing feelings for him and the catelyn/ned scene supports that.

HONORS????

"Robert came all this way to see you, to bring you these great honors, you cannot throw them back in his face." "Honors?" Ned laughed bitterly. "In his eyes, yes," she said. "And in yours?" "And in mine," she blazed, angry now. Why couldn't he see? (AGOT) "Winterfell," she said at once. "I'd tell Mother how you helped me, and you could stay—" "Would m'lady permit? Could I shoe your horses for you, and make swords for your lordly brothers?" Sometimes he made her so angry. "You stop that!" (ACOK)

more arguing but in a distinctly old married couple sort of way. catelyn and arya are actually taking similar stances here, but ned and gendry rudely brush them off.

im not saying these were intentional on grrms part (at last not all of them) but i do think its highlights the romantic subtext between arya/gendry and that the similarities to ned/catelyn could certainly suggest some longevity to their relationship.

#asoiaf nonsense #gendrya #draft post #some of these are genuinely compelling comparisons imo #but a few are just coincidences #still fun

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skeletboi · 1 day ago

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Intridimensional AU part 20! (So many parts 🤔)

First /// Previous /// Next

Also part 19.5 (silly extra sketch) here!

______________________________________

Ford took off his sweater vest and laid it carefully over Stan's sleeping form before returning to Fiddleford's side. They had spent the last hour speaking with the other creatures hiding out in the cave and had come up with somewhat of a plan of action, but had decided to stay here for a few hours and rest.

Stan had easily fallen asleep, turns out being used to napping wherever and whenever you could came in handy when you accidently fall through a portal. Ford and Fiddleford on the other hand, could not so easily shut their brains off.

“Do you need help?” Ford asked as he watched Fiddleford attempt to organize the pile of gadgets the other refugees had given them with only one hand.

“Definitely. But not with this.” Fiddleford replied.

“Right.” Ford said, looking away.

Fiddleford stayed silent as he continued to mess with the gadgets, and Ford accepted the silence for all of 30 seconds before speaking up again.

“Fiddleford, I'm so sorry.” He said quietly.

Fiddleford put down the gadget he was holding and looked up at the rocky wall across from him.

“I know. Ya said that already, Stanford.” He said.

“I know I did. I just need you to know that. I never meant for any of this to happen. I had no idea what Bill was really like. I still haven't wrapped my head around it.”

“Well maybe ya shoulda told me ‘bout him sooner.” Fiddleford sighed. “But then again, ya wouldn't a listened ta me then, either.”

“Or maybe you would have erased that memory.” Ford replied, immediately regretting it as Fiddleford finally turned towards him.

Ford expected to see anger on his face, and wouldn't have blamed him if he did, but all that he saw was sadness.

“That's prolly true.” Fiddleford said quietly. “I don't know how to deal with any a this, and honestly I'd like to erase it all right now and never turn back, but I have a son, Stanford. A son that will die with the rest of our dimension if we don’ do somethin’.”

“Your son…” Ford replied quietly. “I was so caught up in all of this I forgot all about him.”

“Yeah, well I didn't. I never did. Even when I left him behind to help you.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “I ain't innocent in all this, Ford.”

“Maybe not innocent, but I'm the one who believed Bill and caused this.” Ford noted

“And I coulda said no from the beginning, but I couldn't bring myself ta do it… I left my son behind second ya called me.”

“You planned on going back in barely a month, Fidds. You can't blame yourself for that.”

Fiddleford looked back at the wall across from him before replying. “I didn't come to Gravity Falls to be part a history or whatever yer always sayin’. I came to Gravity Falls because ya asked me to, Stanford.”

Ford frowned at him in question and Fiddleford glanced back over at him.

“Fer bein’ so smart, ya sure are dumb.” Fiddleford said, huffing out a laugh. “I came when ya called ‘cuz I love you, Ford. I've loved you since ya burst into our dorm room talkin’ bout math. I tried to move on and started a family ‘cus I thought I'd never hear from you again.”

Ford floundered for a second before answering. “Fidds, I'm so sorry. You must know how I lov-”

“No.” Fiddleford said, cutting him off. “Don't go sayin’ that ta me jus’ ta make me feel better. Even in college I knew yer work would always be more important to ya than me. Maybe if I had focused on my own work instead a you we wouldn't be here.”

“You know how much I care about you, Fiddleford. Can't I love you and my research? You love me and you love your wife! Why can't a man love two things?”

“That ain't the same. I love my wife, but not in the way I love you. The way I love you is destructive, Stanford.”

“It doesn't have to be!” Ford practically yelled, then caught himself and lowered his voice. “Maybe destructive is what we need. I know we wouldn't be here if I had listened to you in the first place. Maybe you don't want to hear it right now, but I do love you, Fiddleford, and I'm finally ready to listen. I need you. You keep me grounded.”

Fiddleford looked at him in silence for a moment before responding. “Maybe destructive is what we need. Jus’ promise me ya ain't gonna keep more secrets from me, and I'll do the same.”

“I promise.” Ford said, then leaned in and kissed him.

“Fucking finally!” Stan said, making Ford and Fiddleford tore away from each other and look over at him.

“I was about to knock your heads together if you didn't get over yourselves.” Stan continued, ignoring their obvious embarrassment. “Watching you two pine over each other was more painful than getting my leg cut off.”

“Stanley! I thought you were asleep!” Ford said.

“And miss all that drama? Fuck no. I'm a light sleeper. Nerd arguments wake me up.”

“I don’ know if I'd call that a ‘nerd argument’.” Fiddleford noted.

“Well it was!” Stanley responded. “We get it. We all fucked up. We're two amputees and the stupidest genius in the galaxy hiding from god-like geometric shape in a rock floating in space! But believe me, as someone who is close personal friends with rock bottom, it could definitely be worse. At least we all fell into the portal! Imagine if it was just you two! I wouldn't have a damn clue how to bring you back. The only way to beat a three-sided triangle is by being a functioning trio. That's math!”

“That was surprisingly inspiring.” Ford responded.

“I'm inspiring as fuck!” Stanley said defensively. “The point is I'm happy you two nerd-idiots finally got your shit together. Now I can focus on interdimensional babes instead of trying to steal Fiddleford from under you, Ford!”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in response.

“Prolly for the best, it was startin’ to work on me.” Fiddleford said thoughtfully.

“It what?!” Ford asked, nonplussed.

“I told ya he was charmin’, didn't I? Yer lucky I've loved you so much longer, Stanford.” Fiddleford said with a laugh as Ford glared at Stan. “Speakin’ of you bein’ charmin’, take this.” Fiddleford continued, handing Stan a watch-like gadget. “It's a translator. I'm thinkin’ you'll be the best at talkin’ to different people until I can get the supplies, and an arm, ta make two more.”

“Well it ain't a Rolex, but it'll have to do.” Stan said, putting it on his wrist. “But you two should actually get some sleep. We don't know when we'll be able to next. Just no fucking where I can hear it.”

“Goddammit, Stanley. Maybe you shouldn't be the one with the translator.” Ford said as Stan laughed.

“I think that's ‘xactly why he needs it. Quick thinkin’ to come up with those terrible jokes.” Fiddleford laughed. “But he's also right, we should be gettin' some sleep. We got a long journey ahead.”

________________________

I try to make Fiddleford's accent more dramatic when he's stressed, but I'm not sure if that translates well? Whatever.

Next will be a comic, which may take me a bit of time to finish because I started my new job and it's like an hour and a half commute one way. So I spend 3 hours of my day driving, and 8.5 hours at work. Which means I am home not often. 🤷🏻

#Intridimensional au #gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gravityfalls #fiddauthor #ford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls au #bill cipher #youncles #younguncles #???#idk how to spell that #skeletboi tag

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bigbigpushes · 1 day ago

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At The Break of Dawn

Part two of Beneath The Stars (part one found here)

At 4:03am, her eyes opened wide as her belly contracted again and she felt the urge to push again, intuition telling her this was more than just the afterbirth. “Maggie. I think there’s another one…”

Ellie had gone to all of her checkups, had the scans and tests recommended to her and never had twins been suspected. She looked to Maggie, sure her midwife wasn’t going to believe her, instead the older woman was deep in thought before she simply nodded. “Okay, we’ll take a look, it could just be your placenta.” She said kindly before she did her checks, feeling her belly and then her cervix. She didn’t show any indication either way until she looked at Ellie with a smile. “Well, it seems someone was hiding. A hidden twin, love.”

Her pregnancy had been a surprise, her partner of eighteen months leaving had been a surprise, she let out a laugh, in shock. “How was that missed? Actually, answer that later.” She let out a low groan, eyes closing as her uterus contracted again and she gave into the instinct to push, just lightly to begin with, her newborn still cradled to her chest.

She didn’t realise Maggie had headed inside quickly until she was returning with the bassinet she had prepared in the living room. Contraction now passed, she looked up to her midwife, with a raised eyebrow. “You’re about to deliver again, this way if you feel you need to put your daughter down, she has a safe place to lay,” Ellie was told softly and she nodded, feeling the need to move.

The cord cut, her daughter now resting peacefully in her bassinet, Ellie stood, hands supporting her belly as she rocked side to side, contractions kept coming and with each one, a new urge to push. 4:54am, just under an hour since this all began again and the redhead was bearing down as she felt the head of her second begin to emerge. The contraction soon ended, leaving frustration in its wake as the head receded. “That’s normal, love. It happened before but you’re close.” Her midwife assured her.

“I’m so tired, Mags.” She was couldn’t stop the tears from falling, trying not to panic over the prospect of twins, she wanted to leave that until after they were both safe and in the world. “I know.” She heard, feeling her cheeks being wiped dry by a gentle touch “you’ve got this.”

Breaks between the pain were now even shorter than they had been before, soon her muscles were tightening and she was pushing once more, as the burning began, her opening stretching as the baby finally came to a full crown, she let out a cry as the head popped free.

She barely registered Maggie kneeling down in front of her, moving Ellie’s hand to her shoulder for support as she did all of the cheeks, barely registered the light tap on her thigh to give her the all clear, she was so entirely focused on giving birth. Another contraction, more pushes, legs shaking until she finally felt the baby slip free into Maggie’s hands, leaving Ellie to shakily fall back onto the sofa once more.

“It’s another girl.” She was told as her second child was placed in one of her arms, her firstborn quickly placed into the other. Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes, looking between her beautiful, perfect daughters as the sky began to lighten and dawn began to break.

#birth fiction #birth kink #fpreg

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inthedarkshadows000 · 7 hours ago

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SneakPeak#106.......

From the story I might never write

How dare she. She has been ignoring me and eyeing my husband, Suguru, for the past forty three minutes and twenty two seconds. Yes. I counted. What else was I supposed to do while being ignored.

Suguru and I had decided to finally move out of our current apartment, with the girls, and shift to a bigger place. It was way to cramped for four people and now with both of earning, in jujutsu world, we had gathered more than enough to finish the down payment instantly.

So we contacted a realtor to show us some places according to our requirements. Mind you, the requirements DID NOT include a middle aged lady, with way too many operations on her face and boobs, who flirts with a taken man. Like bruh, I get my man looks like a god but back. The. Fuck. Off!

So here we were, him getting hit on by a plastic lady, with her nose a little too way off and her one boob smaller than the other.

All I want to do is come out and burn the bitch to crisps with my curse energy but no, apparently being jealous wasn't a good enough reason for murder nowadays, pfft, as if. What if my man needs me to save his honour, huh?

Suguru has been holding my hand and trying to include me in the conversation but that bitch had purposely and extremely unsubtly been leaving me out.

If I wasn't fuming right now, his situation would have made me laugh real hard. He seems so uncomfortable and aborable trying to maintain a safe distance from her. I'll protect you my pretty boy, don't you worry.

Now, only if my eyes could shoot lasers, it would have made things really easy. Like, oops my B. However, they still don't. Trust. I tried squinting. This was the cool power I was supposed to get with my curse shit but no! Nothing cool here.

Forget cool powers. Let me at the bitch bare hands and I'll have her in shreds before you can even finish saying laser. Yeah... my inner bitch was NOT happy.

On a second thought though, why waste power when words can harm more. I smirked internally, when I had an idea.

We were currently in the common area near the dining table. Suguru had his one hand on the table while his other hand circled my waist, the plastic lady in front of us. It wasn't a second after my idea, that I saw her hand go right on top of his free hand and squeeze, he pulled his hand back quickly.

Oh no, you don't! That's it!

"Alright, I have a real quick question." I say while moving between them and leaning on the table.

Ru looks relieved, probably to have a barrier in between and the bitch looks annoyed. Like I care.

I put on my most innocent smile and look at him. "Could you please clear a doubt for me, husband?" I emphasised the last word just put of spite.

"Of course love. What is it?" He quirks a brow and moves his hand to tug gently at the ends of my hair, twirling it around his finger.

"I just wanted to clear out if you have an interest, any interest at all, in Miss. -" I turned towards her making sure my hair hit her in the face, "- wait what was your name?"

Before she could answer I turned back, hitting her again with the hair, and pointed towards her, waiving my palm carelessly, and continued, "Anyway. Her "

"No, I don't love. Why would you ask?" He knew exactly why I would ask. The twinkle in his violet eyes and his horrible attempt at hiding his smile said enough. He played along anyway because let's be real, Suguru Geto loved being petty, even more so than me.

"I just wanted to clear out the fact, so she doesn't waste her time as well as ours, with her futile attempts of trying to woo you. Not to mention, I would hate for her to lose such an important deal, now wouldn't I?" I gave her a pointed look and turned back around. Yes, another hair attack!

I purposely put my left hand, which had the engagement ring on it , over his wrist which now shifted to my cheek.

"Of course, we would, love." he bit his inner cheek to keep himself from laughing, yet his shoulders shook with merth. His beautiful lips pulled in a smirk.

After giving a quick kiss to my forehead and the knuckles of my left hand, he pulled me around so that my back was to his front and we faced the bitch. He put his chin on shoulder, his smirk still evident.

The bitch had gone red. Serves her right.

"You sly, little vixen." Suguru whispered in my ear and tugged the lobe gently with his teeth. I just shrugged still maintaining my innocent smile.

"Just trying to save your sexy ass, like always. I'll take the payment in hair wash, so better be ready to finally drop your hair routine, princess."

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erasinglines · 3 days ago

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it's bittersweet, being back here, faced with memories from the life they once shared together. there's happy ones, of course, that flood to the forefront of his mind— the first time they ever said they loved each other, just down the hall in the bathroom; or all the times following that where those three words were uttered, whether that was in the kitchen, after a dinner they prepared together went horribly wrong and all they could do was laugh at it, or in their bed in the morning, when they awoke to the sight of each other, or in the hallway, just before they're out the door, each day they had to go to work. there was always something so certain back then; this love that held them together, the home they found in each other, that they could return to the safety of, each and every single day. and it's taken him awhile this time around, but he's found his way eventually— back to her, his home. with that, of course, comes memories that are harder to swallow, that aren’t as easy to think back on; two lines on a test, reality coming crashing down around them when that was no longer a possibility, secrets around a job interview, a job offer, a final goodbye, and even a heavy sense of grief, that brought him back to the safety of these walls. and they’re hard to acknowledge, yes, but in a similar way to how those happier memories are, too— all that they had, they nurtured and grew together, all to slip away from them, just like that. there’s so much history, here, in their surroundings, in the breath that they share, so close together. there’s not much else to focus on, then, as her nose nudges against his, the feeling of her breath warm against his skin. no, not much else at all, other than the pounding of his heart in his ears, his chest rising and falling with each of her words. not much else other than the feeling of what it’s like to kiss her, again, to give into the desire he’s tried to tamper down for so long, pretend like it wasn’t there. but, it screams at him now— yes, it’s still there, no, it’s never gone away. so, talk, yes, they definitely should talk, go over the situation they’ve put themselves in, but there were already on the edge of the cliff, weren’t they? what was one more step? “ we should, you’re right, ” his agreement falls easily, because he’s in no position to disagree, but his pause says it all, perfectly timed as her hand rests against his chest, lips close to his own, just barely touching. holds onto some form of restraint, not closing that gap right away, continuing to hover there, fighting the urge. “ i don’t think that makes you a terrible person, no, ” because it was her, them— this would never feel wrong, not to him. besides, the last thing he’d want is for her to feel guilty over it. “ i feel the same, ” he breathes, inching just that little bit closer. and it shouldn’t be surprising, not really, not when they’ve always been on the same page, even about this. as it turns out, self-control isn’t his strongest suit, and soon enough, he’s closing the gap between them again, his lips to hers, but this time there’s an urgency to the kiss, like he can’t stomach the thought of another second passing without feeling her against him. he only pulls away enough to mumble his next words, right there against her. “ actually, i keep thinking that maybe talking can just wait until later. ”

devon can’t stop the memories that flood her mind as they stand here together, in a home that was once theirs. can’t help but remember how it felt to come home with him after a long night out, tired and far too drunk, his arms wrapped around her as their laughter bounced off the walls, stumbling to their room to help each other carefully peel their clothes off before sliding comfortably into bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms. or how they would make breakfast together on slow weekend mornings, drinking coffee in bed and spilling half of it on the sheets, or evenings spent listening to him read to her, staying up too late talking about anything and everything. maybe that’s why she couldn’t fathom leaving this place, despite his absence— so much good happened here. there was so much love embedded in these walls, in each creak of the floorboards, in every piece of furniture they picked out together. and now she could almost trick herself into believing they had gone back in time, that this was just another one of those nights, where she could just lead him to their bedroom, kissing all the way there, but it wasn’t. or at least, it shouldn’t be. despite how her lips tingle to kiss him again and again, she knows they’ve already crossed a line. but hearing him echo just how much he missed her, too, blurs it even further in her mind. that always happened with him, didn’t it ? he was the exception to every rule, the only person she would do absolutely anything for, if he asked, no matter the consequences. it’s intoxicating, being this close, kissing him, touching him, feeling the warmth of his body against her own one more time. even if he wasn’t technically hers anymore, god, was she so fucking lucky to have him at all. remains close as she smiles up at him, pressing a soft peck to his cheek, lingering there for a moment. “ feels real to me, too, ” she whispers, so real that it’s almost visceral— her senses were overrun, her brain filled only with thoughts of them and the life they once shared, her heart overwhelmed with love and care. and it’s enough, just being here with him like this, but she can’t ignore that desire for more, even though she’s desperately trying to shove it down, to remind herself that there had to be some sort of boundary, that there were two other people to think about. it’s hard, though, when he’s kissing her, or looking at her like that, or when he reaches down to intertwine their fingers together so easily. fuck. “ me too. i've almost called you so many times, ” it’s followed with a squeeze of his hand, then, as her nose nudges against his own, tempted to close the gap and kiss him again, but she tries to hold onto any shred of self control she has left, just for good measure. even then, she doesn’t pull away. “ do you want to ? talk, i mean, ” she breathes, voice coarse. “ because we can. we should, probably, ” the words are a little shakier, now, as her free hand slides up to rest against his chest, curling against the material of his shirt as she leans in closer, lips skating against his. “ because i… i’m afraid that if i keep kissing you, i won’t be able to stop, and i’ll do something really fucking stupid, that i know i shouldn’t but that i can’t help because it’s you. ” — “ does that make me a terrible person, you think ? ”

#have i mentioned lately that this is going to make me Freak out……#interactions / miller banks.#bluestsdays

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justanotherescapism · 1 day ago

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Shitty Landlords

Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Tags: drinking, flirting, implied smut

A/N: This is unedited, might come back later and edit it but idk :/

Word Count: 638

Summary: You and Billy bond over your shitty landlord as the power goes out for the 4th time that week.

Billy knocked on Apartment 5, hoping she was in, but also not. The power had gone off for the 4th time this week. After the second time, he had gone out and bought a torch so at least he wouldn't have to traverse in the dark or burn hundreds of candles.

He heard some rustling around in the apartment, before she opened the door, and her face looked both relieved and annoyed to see it was Billy.

"I was hoping you were the landlord." She said.

"That shithead ain't coming anywhere near this building."

"True, but a girl's gotta hope." Billy chuckled at that. She moved out of the way, allowing him in. Her apartment was filled with candles - it was kind of romantic he thought, if it wasn't because the landlord had failed to fix the power...again.

He sat down on her couch for the fourth time that week. As neighbours, they had been cordial if not a little flirty...but never a conversation longer than five minutes. The first time the power went out, he went to make sure she was okay. After all, they were the only people living on this floor. He was pretty sure one of the other apartments was been used to grow...illegal substances and the other had been condemned on account of toxic mould.

She brought through two glasses and a bottle of wine. Billy gave her a quizzical look.

"What? You got any other ideas?"

"Fair enough, love." The nickname gave her butterflies in her stomach. She knew that it was just his British tendencies but the way he said, more...intensely. She took a sip of her wine, hoping to calm the heat inside, but it only made it worse.

Billy downed his drink, hoping it would help him not act brashly...he knew it wouldn't work but regardless he downed the whole glass. She laughed at him.

"Bad day, huh?"

"Bad week."

"Yup," She turned towards him, he feet facing him, her skirt riding up, Billy noticed it immediately. "So, what do we do now?"

"Wait until the power comes back on? Cunt's got to do it eventually."

"It took hours last time. This will be the fourth take out I've had this week." They both chuckled, looking back down at their laps. It was rare to see Billy so shy, but she was, in his opinion, way out of his league. Not just looks, but also she was funny and nice, he had a sense of humour but also killed for a living.

"Y'know love, there is something we could do to pass the time." Billy looked at her both seriously and teasingly. She knew what he meant, they had flirted with the line many times. But never had either of them been so bold. Her heart was racing, she had hoped this would happen for a while but thought he would never catch on.

"And what's that?"

"I don't have to answer that now do I, love."

Before, she could say anything, Billy closed the distance between them. He put his hands on either side of her body, before leaning in. She placed a hand on his lips, before he could.

"Does this mean anything, Billy?"

"Maybe, maybe not, love. But I've been thinking about doing this since you moved in." He leaned in, and their lips met. It started slow, both of them unsure. Billy pulled away.

But she grabbed his face and pulled him back in, roughly kissing. His tongue found hers, pushing her back into the couch. His hands began to roam her body, down her sides, her chest, her legs. She moaned into his mouth.

"Should we move this to the bedroom, love?"

"No light in there." She said breathless, as he began kissing her neck.

"Here will do then."

#the boys #the boys prime #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic #billy butcher headcannons #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x you

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bitletsanddrabbles · 3 days ago

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[Fic] The Glory, the Shame

This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.

Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.

Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.

Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.

A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.

“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.

“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”

“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”

“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.

“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”

Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”

The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”

“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”

“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”

“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”

Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”

“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”

“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”

“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”

Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”

Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”

The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”

His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.

“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”

“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.

Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”

“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”

Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”

“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”

“Probably.”

They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”

“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”

“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”

Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”

“I should think not.”

“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”

“Too right.”

“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”

“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.

The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”

#downton abbey #thomas barrow #downton abbey fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #island of the gays #peter fitzroy #veteran's day #wwi

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astronnonyy · 5 months ago

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oh god i can only add one video to a post

anyways, heres the first of the three new bumpers from AB TV, the 24/7 AvA live stream! for the sake of organization i called this one 'Rocket broadcast interruption' in my head, and i think that's pretty fitting

(i really hope Alan and the team dont mind me uploading these??)

#not mine #not a reblog #ava #animator vs animation #alan becker tv #why not tag that #ava ballista #ava paleo #ava hazard #ava agent #the other two are coming in a second i thought you could put more than one video in a post

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tonycries · 6 months ago

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Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left.

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you?

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse.

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything.

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly.

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere.

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it.

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe.

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words.

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought.

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go.

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own.

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back.

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms.

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you?

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru.

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him.

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by.

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend.

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core.

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra.

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you.

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker.

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now.

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down.

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity.

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor.

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts.

And it was so unfair.

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were.

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt.

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used.

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now.

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you.

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything.

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance.

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier.

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close.

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat.

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard.

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time.

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-”

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth.

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything.

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of.

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue.

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes.

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild.

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then.

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time.

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum.

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive.

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice.

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick.

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy.

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs.

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…”

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t.

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him.

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break.

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks.

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face.

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting.

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow.

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut.

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it.

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty.

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind.

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain.

And then it’s black.

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so.

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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