#they actually watch it together tears in their eyes

[maskedbyghost]

Months away on a mission with no contact—no letters, no calls—left Simon feeling like a ghost returning to a world that had moved on without him. The base hummed with activity, soldiers moving about, but Simon’s eyes scanned the crowd for one person.

His wife.

But it was Captain Price who found him first, actually.

"Simon," Price called out, striding up to him. The older man’s face was hard to read, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—was it amusement? Relief? Simon couldn’t quite place it.

"Captain," Simon replied with a nod. "Where’s—"

Price didn’t even wait for him to finish. "She’s with the doctors," he said simply.

Simon froze. A thousand thoughts slammed into him at once. Doctors? His mind raced, each possibility worse than the last. Was she hurt? Sick? Had something happened while he was away? His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. He didn’t even notice Price opening his mouth to elaborate; Simon was already moving.

He needed to see her. Now.

The corridors blurred as he moved, his long strides turning into a near run. Anxiety twisted in his chest, clawing at his ribs. Every door he passed was another obstacle between him and the truth. Images of her in pain, in danger, flooded his mind, and he pushed them away. He wouldn’t allow himself to think the worst—not yet. But the fear lingered.

When he reached the small clinic, his breath was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears. A nurse pointed him toward the correct room, and Simon didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open.

And there she was.

She was lying on the examination bed, her face turned toward the screen displaying an ultrasound image. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she watched the tiny flickering heartbeat on the monitor. The sight of her, alive and unhurt, sent a wave of relief crashing through him so strong he had to grip the doorframe to steady himself. But then his eyes dropped lower, to the curve of her stomach, unmistakable now beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

His breath hitched.

She turned her head at the sound of the door, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, neither of them moved. Her expression shifted from surprise to warmth, and her voice was soft. "Si?"

Simon didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t. He was frozen, his gaze locked on her, on the life she was carrying. His mind struggled to catch up, to process the truth in front of him. Relief, awe, guilt, and joy swirled together in a storm of emotions so intense it left him rooted to the spot.

The doctor cleared their throat, drawing both of their gazes. "I’ll give you two a moment," they said gently, gathering their notes and stepping out of the room. The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving Simon and his wife alone.

"Simon," she said again, her voice trembling now, her eyes searching his face. "Say something."

He blinked, as if her words had finally broken the spell. Slowly, he stepped toward her. He sank to his knees beside the bed, his gloved hands hovering over her stomach like he was afraid to touch, afraid it wasn’t real.

"You’re..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying again. "You’re pregnant?"

She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you, but you were gone, and there was no way to reach you..."

He shook his head quickly. "No, love. Don’t apologize. Don’t—" His voice broke again, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her belly. His gloved hands finally settled gently on either side of her stomach, trembling. "I should’ve been here."

Her fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the strands in a comforting gesture. "You’re here now, Si. That’s what matters."

He pulled back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to her stomach, his eyes squeezed shut as tears escaped down his cheeks. "I’m sorry," he whispered against her skin. "For leaving, for not knowing... God, I love you. Both of you."

Her hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up so their eyes met. "We love you too," she said, her smile full of warmth. "So much."

Simon nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He rested his head against her stomach again, listening to the faint, steady heartbeat on the monitor. For the first time in months, the weight on his chest began to lift. This was home. This was everything he had been fighting for.

And he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

--------------------------------------------

don't mind me, just cleaning my drafts.

@daydreamerwoah

[justhereforsubsevika]

can you write spanking with sevika please 🙏 preferably sub!sev 🫶🫶

This not gonna be written properly sozsoz but like a sub!sevi braindump i think yes

Contains: Spanking, brat!Sevika, use of flail, pussy spanking, ass spanking, use of the traffic-light system for consent (because checking in is importantttt), clit torture, denied orgasm :P

See because a lot of subs get thought about as fems a lot of public teasing is like

wearing a short skirt and bending over so your ass shows

wearing a low cut top and purposefully pushing your cleavage together

sevika is a butch. she does a butch version of public teasing

she'll look you in the eye while she pins a girl to wall between her elbows, flexing her biceps

she'll ask girls to spot her in the gym while she does squats just so you can watch as her spotter's eyes get trained on her ass

she'll even lift girls up just to see you seething when they giggle and grab onto sevis shoulders

(switching to proper writing)

so , what do you do about sevika teasing you all day?

She gasps at the way you force her down, acting all confused like she wasn't getting you worked up on purpose. "Baby-" she'll splutter as you pull her joggers from under her ass, grunting when you see the cotton of her boxers is damp. You see red, hand flying down onto her pussy before she can even begin to splutter out some bullshit excuse. She yelps and chucks her head back, her back arching as she grabs on to the armrest of the sofa you've laid her on.

"You think you can act like a slut and get away with it?" You seethe, harshly thumbing at her clit. She's soaked, you know she gets off on disobedience, you know how much of a fucking brat she is. She tucks her chin into her chest and looks up at you through her eyebrows, that dumbass smirk curling at her lip. "Mhmm, because I know it'll end up like this. With you p-punishing my pussy like I wanted."

You cease your movements entirely. What the fuck had gotten into her? She was no good girl by any means, but she was never this much of a brat. She clucks her tongue when you stare at her, heart racing, blood turning to flame. "Come on," and she grabs your wrist, grabs your fucking wrist, and starts making circles on her clit with your thumb. You're frozen. If you saw red before, you could only see the blood behind your eyes now.

You pinch hard on her clit, smiling sadistically when her teeth clench, seeing how her hand retreats to grab onto any part of the sofa. "You want to play it like this?" You slap her across the face and grab her up from under her chin, forcing her to look at you. "Fine, we'll do things your way. Flip over, ass up."

That smirk is wiped right off her face. She nods, her pupils wide and obedient, getting into position. You've never had to go this far with a punishment before, never had to concentrate pain onto her ass instead of stinging pleasure onto her pussy. But her behaviour warrants it.

"Do you need me to co-?"

"No I don't need you to count. I need you to shut up and take it."

You bring your hand down harshly onto her ass, the pain doubled since she'd hit her glutes hard at the gym to flaunt to whichever slut she picked out to taunt you with. That image pulses in your brain, both of your hands simultaneously coming down to spank either cheek of her ass. You grab at her flesh, pinching, squishing, whatever you please, before bringing down another harsh slap. One of her legs is bent up, her toes curling in the air. She grips at the pillows of the couch, crying out little "tch's" and "gah's" from between her teeth. You don't finish until her scarred ass is burning a deep shade of crimson.

But you don't stop there! No no, how could you when she disobeyed you so intensely, so purposefully, actually mocked your punishment?

Her head is fallen against the plush of the pillow, and, when you grab at her hair to pick up her face, you see where tears have wet the gray fabric. She looks up at you, sniffling, lip trembling, and you pout at her. "Poor baby," you deride, making her gasp out a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I was bad," she chokes, grabbing at the grip you have on her hair. Concern hits you at her signs of distress.

"Sevi baby, colour?"

"Oh, green," she chuckles, "just hurts really fucking bad." You smile and rub your hand soothingly over her bruising skin. "Wait here."

****

You return with a toy you haven't yet used on Sevika. She's waiting, laid out on the sofa, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "What's that?" she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "It's a flail. Give me your palm."

You place a few good hits onto Sevi's hand, watching as her eyes re-light with excitement. "Hurts..." she murmurs, seeing how her hand gets streaks of red drawn across it. "Mhm. It'll be worse on your ass." You sit beside her and drag the tails of the flail across her raw flesh, giggling when her muscles tense, when her breath hitches. "Poor baby. Shouldn't have acted like such a little bitch, should you?" You bring the flail down, making Sevika shriek in pain. Her crying picks up again, her whole body shaking. "No, no I should've been good," she stammers, her limbs limp against the fabric of the couch. "Mm," you hum, bringing the toy down, revelling in the way little lines cut across her ruined skin. You don't do this for long, just enough to get her really weak.

"Aw Sevi," you coo, bringing your fingertips to her face. Her cheeks are burning hot. She nestles against you, kissing your knuckles. "'m sorry.." she whimpers, "'m so so sorry."

"It's okay, sweet girl." You slide your thumb down between her legs and bite your lip at how wet she's gotten. "Love it when I hurt you, don't you baby?"

Her hand comes behind her back, folding it across herself, willing you to pin her down. She wants to feel like she can't escape the pleasure you give her even if she tried. "Love it so much," she chokes, moaning when you grab her forearm and pin her down. You thumb at her clit for a while. You know she'll be easy, she's soaked from her punishment, and she's pulsing hard against your thumb. "Need...please?" Is all she manages. You go a little longer, until she's really moaning, really whining, breathing hot and heavy.

And then you pull away.

She damn near screams at the loss of contact, and you can't help but laugh at the hyperbolic response. "Just edging me right?" She asks, a hint of panic in her voice. Poor Sevi, she's so far gone. "Nuh uh princess. Bad girls don't get to cum."

She flips over, immediately regretting her decision when her ass brushes your knees. "Ow, fuck- baby please, please I took everything so well," and she's weeping again, begging you with the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. "Yeah you did. Too bad you misbehaved all day, huh?" She shakes her head, kneeling over your lap and grabbing at your shirt. "Please?" You smirk and look away.

"No, Sevi, that's final."

She nods solemnly, like you just told her she has 3 minutes to live, sinking down onto your lap. You feel how messy she's making you, her wetness painting your thighs. But she's good, she doesn't even make a half-assed attempt to grind into you. Just sits.

And then, of course, you slather her ass in aloe vera, make her lay down on her stomach while you clean her pussy off. You take off her tank top, now drenched in sweat and tears, and remove her joggers and boxers. You leave her in her socks (her feet get cold </3) and massage her back, telling her softly what a good girl she is for taking her punishment so well.

Maybe you let her cum eventually, because you feel bad. Maybe.

ok maybe i did want to write this properly then lmfao

also PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE IF THE DIALOGUE IS CRINGY PLEASE+ not properly spell/grammar/ "does this definitely make sense" checked

[mikkomacko]

Suspect Gone Wrong

A little Mob Nico blurb inspired by @angelinethompson 🫶

____________________________________________

“Where’s Nico?”

You turn to the open patio door, smiling at Jack standing there, hair damp from a shower and the clothes he slept in last night thrown back on.

“Went on his morning run.” You reply, looking back out towards the yard where Moose is roaming around. Pawing at the fresh soil you and Alex spread throughout the flower beds, nose twitching and sniffing. Nico always tries to take the poor things on runs with him, spend some father-puppy time together but Moose isn’t a running dog. He’s get him down the block maybe and then have to carry the giant pup back to the house.

So he stays with you, who also hates running.

“Lame,” Jack comments, joining you on the top porch step. You watch Moose mosey around the yard, note the budding trees and sprouting flowers that are growing with the warmer temperatures. Jack scrolls through his phone for a moment, then turns to you.

“Wanna make a TikTok?”

~~~~

Giggling, you aim the camera at Jack. He’s stretching out his muscles in a low lunge, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and you hit record, nodding for him to go.

He springs into a jog, you following him and trying to hold the phone steady. “Suspect’s biggest fear is getting something in his eye.”

Jack stops, turning to look at you wide eyed. “I can’t do eyedrops!” He defends, and you pause to switch places with him. You run this time, ducking around the bare branches of the backyard trees.

“Suspect treats her dog like he’s her son and it’s really scary.”

“Hey!” You laugh, already grabbing at the phone. Jack chuckles, getting into place and you hit record.

“Suspect got his license taken away by his boss and now has to passenger princess with his baby brother.”

His face immediately turns red, excuses falling from his mouth that you can’t hear over your own laughing. Jack ends up just ripping the phone from your hands, grumbling for you to go.

“Suspect went to an Ivy League school but gets love dumb every time her boyfriend is around.”

You bust out laughing, not at all taking Jack’s jab seriously but by the way he just grumbles at you, you think the intention was to bug you. Hesitantly, you swap places, thinking carefully about your words.

“Suspect has a longer hair care routine than me.”

Jack doesn’t laugh, but he smirks proudly, tousling his messy hair with a wink at the camera. “Worth every penny, now hand it over.”

You guys switch again. “Suspects whole personality is her boyfriend.”

“It is not!” You argue, pointing at him. “I have a dog too!”

Jack snickers, swapping with you again and you bristle. Any feelings of sympathy or playing nice has quickly faded.

“Suspect has a boy crush on my boyfriend and copies everything he does.”

Jack gapes, the two of you exchanging heated glares as you hand off the phone.

“Suspect doesn’t even have a real job but sleeps like she pays the bills.”

That ticks you off even more, anger and offense growing between you two with each role reversal.

“Suspect will give drinks to five girls every night and still end up going home alone with his baby brother.”

“Suspect gets one drink in her and is bending over in public for her boyfriend!”

“Suspect says he’s 5’11 but is actually 5’9 and a half!”

“Suspect has one friend and it’s because he gets paid to follow her around!”

You falter, heart hammering painfully in your chest and almost immediately tears sting at your eyes. Staring at Jack, the wicked gleam in his eye slowly fades as he realizes you’ve got wet eyes and your cheeks and neck have turned a splotchy red.

“Wait, no-“

“S’fine,” you cut in, yanking your phone from his hand and locking it. Then you turn, hastily crossing the yard to head back inside. You can hear Jack yelling after you, scrambling to keep up and Moose rises from his slumber on the porch as you near.

You duck into the house, Moose growling behind you and you hear Jack mutter a “damn dog.” But he doesn’t follow, most likely to smart to challenge the dog Nico trained to protect you.

Sniffling, you curse yourself for not being able to just take the fucking joke. You’ll be fine and you can shake it off in a bit but it’s too embarrassing to face Jack right now. You just need a few minutes to hide.

Unfortunately any attempts at hiding in the house are ruined when you run smack dab into Nico’s damp shirt.

“Whoa, whoa what’s going on?” He steadies you by the elbows, “what happened?”

Looking at his feet, you try to stealthily wipe at your eyes but he’s already seen your tear stained face. Nico grabs your chin, makes you look up at him. His hair is darker than usual, damp with sweat and his cheeks look all ruddy and shiny. His eyes search your face, worried and sympathetic.

Your lip wobbles and you can’t help it. You fall into his chest, curling in on yourself when he immediately wraps you up in his arms. He doesn’t smell great, not at all but you don’t care.

“Jack hurt my feelings.” You sniffle, and Nico strokes your hair.

“What did he say?”

“That Timo is only my friend because you pay him to be.”

You can hear the sharp inhale Nico takes, arms tightening just the slightest bit. Somewhere behind you, Jack has gotten back into the house.

“It was a joke Nico!” Jack pleads, that nervous pitch raising his voice. “For TikTok, I didn’t mean to-“

“Out,” Nico orders firmly, effectively quieting Jack. “Go home.”

Embarrassed, Jack mumbles “I can’t drive.”

It would be funny if you weren’t still upset about his comment. Nico doesn’t think it’s funny either by the way he sighs in annoyance. “To your room, now.”

You hear Jack scramble to get away from Nico, disappearing up the large staircase.

“I’m just being a baby,” you mutter sadly. “It was a joke but I-“

“It’s not a joke,” Nico assures, “that’s not a joke. He’s lucky you cried and didn’t swing for the jaw instead.”

Wetly, you giggle. Nico pecks a kiss to the top of your head. “Musli,” he calls softly, “guet hund.” Th dog pads away happily, pleased with the affirmation from Nico.

“You really need a shower,” you say into his shoulder and he snorts.

“Alright, let’s go.”

~~~~

Two days later you and Jack are fine. He apologized, you accepted it and told him you were just caught off guard. Nico glared at him, thumped him on the back of the head just once and then everything went back to normal.

Well almost normal.

“What are we doing Nico?”

He stops at the end of the large hallway, flicking on the light. “Making a better video.” He says casually.

Your heart warms, filling with love to the point that it almost hurts. “You want to be in my TikTok?”

Nico chuckles. “Not regularly but I’ll do it for this one, ok?”

Not wanting him to change his mind, you dig out your phone. He knows how the video works having heard about and seen yours with Jack. So he starts recording, urging you to jog down the hall with a nudge to your hip.

“Suspect is so pretty men will trip trying to hold a door for her and she’ll still say they’re just being polite.”

“They are!” You laugh, butterflies swarming your gut when Nico giggles too.

He just grins, the two of going back to the end of the hall and switching places.

“Suspect is so handsome his workers copy his haircuts and style.” You tease, and Nico shakes his head in amusement.

“What can I say? I have good taste.” He takes the phone from you, resetting for the next clip.

“Suspect has the best ass I’ve ever seen. I mean smile, the best smile.” Your cheeks flame, eyes widening in shock as you look to Nico. He’s grinning like a fool, eyes crinkled and dimples in his cheeks and you think you’re gonna melt just looking at him.

“Keep it PG,” you scold halfheartedly, willing away the blush in your face and taking the phone.

“Suspect has the prettiest baby cow eyes and dimples but refuses to smile in public.”

Nico doesn’t even argue, shrugging as if it’s common knowledge but you can see the slightest tints of red crawling up his neck.

He motions for you to go, clearing his throat and hitting record. “Suspect owns a hundred pajama sets but only sleeps in my clothes.”

“They’re warmer!” You laugh, bubbly and infectious. He laughs with you, pinching at your cheeks teasingly. Then he’s lining up, lightly jogging ahead of you.

You press record, glad you set the video to ten minutes before starting. It seems Nico is pretty good at this. “Suspect eats three servings at dinner and still has room for dessert.”

“I’m a big man,” he defends with a chuckle, patting at his belly through his shirt. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Suspect will say the most inappropriate words I’ve ever heard and then flash her Bambi eyes to get away with it.”

Hunch over into the wall, you laugh and clutch at your cramping side. Maybe you get away with saying crazy things to Nico in public by batting your eyelashes at him, but he plays the same game.

“You’ve never even seen Bambi,” you pant, breathless from laughing and fake jogging. Nico scoffs, handing you your phone.

“I know what he looks like though,” he scoffs.

Still fighting back giggles, you take your turn. “Suspect says he didn’t go college because he’s stupid but is somehow fluent in four languages.”

It’s his turn to laugh, holding his stomach and shoulders shaking as you two swap yet again. His next one has you clinging to the wall again, that blush in your cheeks returning ten fold.

“Suspect has a lethal face card.”

“Suspect has a lethal everything.” You compliment back, looking him up and down as he laughs, like you’re proving your point. Which you are, to be honest.

Nico takes his spot, eyes lovingly looking over your flustered and smiling face. Fighting your overwhelmed grin, you move down the hall again with Nico trailing.

“Suspect doesn’t know it but she is perfect and makes everyday easy.”

He’s still recording when you stop, turning to him with moony eyes and a dropped jaw. “That’s so sweet,” you say in awe, ducking around the phone to hug his waist. Nico turns the phone, arm at an awkward angle to still record you two and he kisses the top of your head.

“Suspect is a big ol’ teddy bear and I love him.” You say sweetly, rising to your toes to kiss his jaw. He grins, bringing the phone back down and blinking at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“I love you too.”

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: hellooo! could you please write one where dean and sam are having their usual arguments but the sister is so sick of their shit, tried to tell them to get a grip and they come to their senses. but then flash forward the boys are ACTUALLY fighting, like throwing punches, and she gets caught by one of them? thanks, love your work!! <3

A/N: Hiiiiii!!! Thank you so much. I love this request and I hope I wrote it in a way you were imagining. If not, send me another request! As always requests are open. You can request anything you want, even if it’s something I’ve already written. Thanks everyone!!

Sam and Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader

I stood at the edge of the living room, eyes fixed on the familiar scene unfolding in front of me. Dean’s voice was as sharp as ever, cutting through the thick air of tension. The words were bitter, like venom spilling out of his mouth, each sentence more loaded than the last.

“Sam, you don’t get it. We don’t have the luxury of time. People are dying out there!”

I watched Sam, his jaw clenched, his posture rigid with barely contained fury. He leaned forward, hands planted firmly on the table between them. “You’re acting like we’re invincible, Dean! Like we don’t need a plan—like we can’t think through this!”

The frustration in Sam’s voice echoed in my chest like a drumbeat. But the thing that had finally snapped my restraint wasn’t their words—it was the way their anger was bleeding into everything. Every argument. Every conversation. It was relentless, a storm that never seemed to stop. I had been trying to hold onto whatever semblance of peace I could, but today… today I couldn’t take it anymore.

I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, that familiar surge of adrenaline clawing up my spine as I paced around the room, eyes darting from one brother to the other. My hands trembled by my sides, but it wasn’t just from the anger. It was the heartbreak—the exhaustion.

It had been happening for weeks. Every day, every single fight felt like it was tearing us apart. The same stupid arguments. The same stubbornness. And it wasn’t even about the monsters anymore. It was about us. The Winchesters. Our family.

And I was sick of it.

“Enough.” My voice cut through their bickering like a knife. The room froze in an instant.

Dean’s eyes snapped to me, that familiar scowl on his face as he straightened up from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “Y/N, don’t—”

“No,” I interrupted, my voice shaking, but this time with raw emotion. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. You two are tearing me apart.” I stepped forward, my chest tight with the weight of what I was about to say. “Every time you fight, it’s hurting everyone around you. Do you even see that? Do you realize what it’s doing to me?”

Dean’s expression faltered for a split second, but it was gone just as quickly, his jaw setting again, like a wall coming down. Sam, too, was silent, his eyes fixed on me, but I could see the flicker of guilt in his gaze.

I felt the tears pricking behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. “I’m your sister, goddamn it. And every time you fight, it feels like I’m invisible. Like I’m just the collateral damage. It’s not just your war anymore, okay? It’s all of ours. But I’m the one stuck in the middle, cleaning up the mess. And I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.”

My voice cracked with the last words, the weight of the admission crashing over me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding in until it all came pouring out. The years of trying to keep things together. The endless struggles. But this—this constant fighting, the endless cycle of hate and misunderstanding—was the last straw.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, I turned and stormed out of the room, unable to look at either of them. I couldn’t. I needed to get away. The walls were closing in. I ran to my room and I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the hallway. The cool, dim light of my room offered no comfort. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my hands. The tears I had been fighting for so long finally broke free, each one a painful reminder of how far we’d fallen.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been lying there, the muffled voices of my brothers drifting from the living room, distant and eventually fading into silence. For a moment, I allowed myself to hope they’d finally come to their senses. The tension in the air lifted, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief. I rolled over, searching for something to occupy my mind, anything to fill the quiet space between the cracks of everything left unsaid.

It felt peaceful—finally.

And then it didn’t.

A thud. A grunt. A crash. The unmistakable sounds of a fight.

My heart dropped. I knew what it was. It wasn’t the first time.

I shot out of bed, adrenaline surging through me. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as I sprinted down the hallway. Every step felt like it was dragging me deeper into the chaos that had consumed our family. I didn’t care if I was still raw from the argument. I didn’t care if my own heart was shattered.

I pushed through the door, eyes wide, breath ragged. Dean and Sam were on the floor, fists flying, faces twisted in rage.

"Stop!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and desperate.

But they didn’t stop. They didn’t even look up. Sam’s fist connect with Dean’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. And then Dean retaliated, throwing his own punch, and for a split second, I watched in horror as they both swung at each other, neither one holding back.

“No! Stop! Please, stop!” My voice cracked as I rushed forward, desperate to break it up, but I wasn’t fast enough.

They continued to swing, and this time one of their fists caught me by accident. The world around me seemed to slow down in that moment. The knuckles collided with the side of my face, and everything went black for an instant. I felt my body hit the floor with a sickening thud, the sharp pain in my head drowning out everything else.

Blood filled my mouth, and I could taste the metallic tang of it. I gasped for air, but it felt like the room was spinning. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. My body was too heavy, too overwhelmed with pain.

Tears stung my eyes as I lay on the floor, blood dripping from my lips. I couldn’t believe it—couldn’t understand how we’d gotten to this point. How we—we—had let things get so bad.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice shattered through the haze. He dropped down next to me, panic overtaking his features. “Shit… kid, don’t move. Don’t move, okay? You’re gonna need stitches.”

But I couldn’t hear him. My mind was clouded, my vision fading. I choked back another sob, my hands instinctively reaching up to touch the fresh wound on my face. The pain was blinding. I felt myself shaking violently, my body not able to handle the weight of it all—the physical pain, the emotional pain, the betrayal of it all.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. I turned my head to look at them, but my vision was swimming with tears. “Why do you keep doing this? You’re brothers. You’re supposed to protect each other. Look at me! Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Dean looked as if he had been slapped, his face pale and guilt-ridden, his lips trembling with words he couldn’t form. Sam, who had been hovering in the background, now moved forward slowly, his hands trembling as he knelt beside me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said quietly, his voice cracked with emotion. He reached for my hand, but I yanked it away.

“I don’t want your apology!” I screamed through the blood in my mouth, the words raw and painful. “I don’t want anything from you right now. I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Sam looked like he was about to say something, but I was already staggering to my feet, my vision still blurry, my head spinning.

“No, you’re not helping!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix myself.” And with that, I rushed toward the bathroom, my legs unsteady beneath me, my heart pounding with each step.

I slammed the door behind me, locking it before either of them could follow. I couldn’t let them fix it. Not yet. Not when they were still at war with each other. I had to do it myself.

I grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the supplies. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I wasn’t sure I could even see straight through the tears and dizziness that clouded my vision, but I couldn’t stop. I had to fix it. I had to fix myself.

I dug the needle from the kit, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold onto it. not even registering the pain as I pressed it into my skin. I was too dizzy to see straight, too lost in my pain to think clearly. The needle jabbed into my skin, but the agony of it was nothing compared to the emotional ache. My hands were shaking uncontrollably now, the stitches coming out uneven and jagged. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the wound, couldn’t tell where I was supposed to stitch, but I pushed through the agony anyway, my body wracked with sobs. Every breath felt like it was going to tear me apart.

“Y/N, open the door,” I heard Dean’s voice from the other side, pleading. “Please. Please, we’re so sorry.”

“I don’t care!” I screamed through the door, the words strangled by tears. “You should’ve cared before! You should’ve seen what this was doing to me! To all of us!” You whimpered before slammed your hand down on the bathroom sink. “Our fucking family!”

The sobs wracked my body, my chest tightening with every breath. The blood dripped steadily from my lip, staining my shirt and the bathroom counter. I felt myself getting weaker by the second.

“We’re so sorry. Please let us help,” Sam’s voice came through the door, soft, desperate. “Let us help you, bug.” His voice was quiet, gentle, and broken.

“I don’t want your help!” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I wanted you to stop fighting! I wanted you to care about me. About us.”

But the pain was too much. The dizziness too overwhelming. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I still fought, pressing the needle into my skin.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Both of them rushed in, their faces stricken with horror at the sight of me, hunched over the sink, blood staining the bathroom floor. Dean moved toward me, but I pulled away, backing into the corner.

“I told you,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice ragged with exhaustion, “I don’t want your help.” The words felt like sandpaper scraping against my throat. Maybe I was scared. Scared of how much this had gotten out of control. Scared of how much I’d let it tear me apart.

Dean’s expression twisted in anguish, and for a moment, I saw it. The guilt. The understanding that this was bigger than a typical fight. That I wasn’t just angry—I was devastated.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, the movement quick, but careful. His eyes locked on mine, full of regret, the weight of it pressing down on us both. He reached for me slowly, his hand hovering near my face. "We didn’t mean for it to get this bad, Y/N. We just…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as if the words were too difficult to say. "We didn’t know how to stop."

I felt the tears coming again, but this time, it was different. They weren’t angry, not fiery and sharp like before. This was something quieter, deeper. The rage had burned itself out, leaving only aching sorrow in its wake.

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a broken breath, “But… you can’t fix it with more pain.” My chest tightened with each word, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a storm I couldn’t outrun.

Sam’s face crumpled at my words, and I saw his jaw tighten as he stepped forward, his eyes darting from my blood-streaked face to the needle still clenched tightly in my hand. His hands shook as he reached for it, and when his fingers brushed against mine, I flinched, my body wracked with a fresh wave of pain.

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke through my haze of pain, gentle but firm. "Let me do it.”

I felt the sting of the needle being pried from my hand. For a moment, I wanted to pull it back, to insist I could finish it myself, but then I saw Sam’s face. The look of terror in his eyes. He knew me. He knew I didn’t do this. I didn’t stitch myself up—they always did that for me. Always. The realization hit him hard, the understanding that I had reached a point where I couldn’t rely on them, not even when things got this bad. And it was that look of pain in his eyes, that unspoken hurt, that made everything feel even worse.

Sam grimaced when he saw the uneven, jagged stitches I’d attempted—some parts too tight, others barely holding together. The pain from them was unbearable, but it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at me. It was the fact that I had been forced to do this alone. That I couldn’t trust them to see the full extent of what I was feeling.

He exhaled sharply and immediately set to work, pulling the needle through my skin with slow, meticulous care. My body tensed in response, and I couldn’t help but whimper as the needle pierced me again. The pain was excruciating, a deep, fiery throb that seemed to echo in every bone, every muscle.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sam murmured, his voice so soothing it felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve got you.” But the words didn’t make the pain go away.

I felt every movement of the needle, every tug of the thread, and the sheer agony of it made my whole body quake. It was like he was stitching up my heart with every pull, each stitch a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The tears kept coming, hot and bitter, spilling down my cheeks without my permission.

Dean moved in closer, his hand brushing my hair out of my face, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. His fingers were gentle as they touched me—like he was scared I might shatter under his touch. I was shattering though, all around the edges.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured, his voice low and raw, barely audible above the pounding in my head. “We never should’ve let it get this far. I didn’t see what we were doing to you, Y/N. We didn’t see how bad it was.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold onto the last shred of control I had left. The pain from the stitches was bad—so bad—but what hurt more was hearing the pain in his voice. Dean wasn’t supposed to sound like this. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who fixed things. But now? Now, he was just as broken as I was.

“It’s not just the fights,” I whispered between sobs, my voice tight with the effort of speaking through the agony. “It’s everything. It’s how we’ve been falling apart for so long, and you didn’t even see it.”

Sam’s hands were steady, but his expression was pained, and I could see the way his jaw clenched as he worked, each stitch a slow promise that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. But it didn’t stop the pain. The physical pain, the emotional pain. It didn’t stop me from feeling like I was drowning in it.

Dean leaned closer, his breath soft against my ear. “We’re here now, Y/N. We’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna fix us.”

I could feel his words, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe them. I wasn’t sure if any of us could ever fix what was broken. Not completely.

But Sam’s careful hands were still stitching, and Dean was still here, his hand resting on my shoulder now, providing the smallest bit of comfort as I cried. The pain from the stitches was blinding, but somehow, through it, I could hear them. They were here. They were trying.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said again, his voice breaking. He was almost finished now, his hands trembling slightly as he worked the last stitch into place. “We didn’t see how much we were hurting you. But we will fix this. I swear. You’re not alone in this.”

The last stitch pulled tight, and the pain that followed was sharp, but brief. I let out a sob, my body trembling from the aftermath of it. Sam gently pressed a bandage to the wound, his hands now much more careful, but still steady.

Dean’s voice came again, quieter now, more vulnerable. “We see it now, kid. Everything is better when we’re in this together. We’re a team and we have to stay that way.”

And that—just that—felt like it was enough, for now.

Later, I sat on the couch, the bandage tight across my side. Sam was beside me, and Dean was sitting on the other side, his hand resting on the back of the couch as if to remind me he was there. We weren’t talking much. There was nothing really to say. Not yet. But somehow, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating as it used to. It was a quiet that was filled with understanding—the beginning of healing.

I leaned back into the couch, my head resting on the cushion. I wasn’t fixed. We weren’t fixed. But we were trying. And that was enough for tonight.

We were family. Even if we had to rebuild, piece by piece. We would make it through this. Together.

[oh-my-wolfstar]

@wolfstarmicrofic

Jan 19, prompt: first kid

word count: 528

*swearing. also, I changed the timeline a bit, so Tonk's birth is about 3 years later than in canon.*

"She's beautiful, Andy." Remus smiled, watching his boyfriend coo over his cousin Andromida's new baby, Nymphadora. Sirius had been dying to see the infant since her birth two months ago and so he and Sirius (being the only two of the marauders who could apparate) had snuck away from a Hogsmeade weekend to visit. Now they sat in the small living room of Andy and her husband Ted's house. They both looked a bit tired, but positively glowing with joy.

Remus had never been around small children much, being an only child, but he found that he quite liked baby Dora. Although perhaps that was because he quite liked Andromeda. She had amazing taste in music and always sent Sirius the best records, which won her major points in Remus's book. But she was also the only one of Sirius's relatives who was actually decent, and thus the only one who knew about their relationship. Sirius had been so nervous to tell her, and when he finally sent the letter, he had almost broken down. Andromeda had sent a reply the next day, and she was ecstatic. Nothing could compare to the smile that split Sirius's face as he read the letter, and Remus couldn't help but adore the woman who had put it there. Remus was pulled from his happy thoughts by the sound of the baby crying. Andy swept in and scooped her from her bassinet, rocking her and making soothing noises.  Remus smiled, but when he turned back to Sirius, he found the boy standing rigid, blinking rapidly.

"I've got to go to the loo," Sirius said in a rush before disappearing into the hall. Remus caught Andy sharing a concerned look with her Ted and felt his brows draw together. After a couple minutes, it became evident to Remus that Sirius was definitely not in the loo.

"I'm gonna…" Remus trailed off, unsure of how to finish his explination. Andy just nodded, seeming to understand what he needed to do. Remus followed the hall past a sharp tun and to a back door, which was slightly open. Indeed, when he pulled the door open he found sirius sitting on the porch step, face burried in his knees. 

"Pads," Remus said gently, dropping down next to Sirius. "what is it?" Sirius looked up at him, eyes slightly red, a tear trailing down his cheek.

"She's going to be loved, Moony. That baby in there is going to be loved, and even though the world is on the brink of war shes ging to grow up knowing she's safe." Sirius whispered. Oh. Remus felt his heart crack.

"She's going to have a normal childhood, she'll get to be a kid." Sirius's voice cracked as he spoke. "She's- she's the first kid in my family who'll won't have to be a Black, or deal with any of that pureblood bullshit." Tears were running down his face anew but he was smiling. Remus pulled Sirius into a tight hug and Sirius clung to him, burying his face in Remus's shoulder. "Andy broke the cycle," Sirius whispered against Remus's skin, "Dora gets to grow up free."

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 59

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,500ish

Summary: Wade forces the group into a therapy session.

Warning(s): talk of death, sadness

Notes: I hope this isn't total trash. I think I completely overthought this chapter... Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Now,” Wade drawled, “who wants to get started?”

“Wade, forcing us to talk—“

“Is just want we all need,” Wade cut you off.

“You can’t keep us in here for long,” Logan retorted.

“Actually, I can since we can order anything from our phones. So, once again, who wants to go first?”

The silence was thick that followed. Your head hung as you wrung your hands together. Laura eyed you nervously while Logan leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he glared at Wade. Wade kept himself against the apartment door, twirling one of his golden guns.

“I could always start,” Wade broke the silence, “but I’m sure my story is not the one that needed here. We can do spin the bottle to decide or nose goes or—“

“Wade, stop,” you requested. 

You looked up at Wade with tears in your eyes, immediately putting Logan and Laura on edge. You almost had no control over your powers anymore. The slightest change in your emotions could be extremely dangerous for you.

“Don’t do this,” you pled. 

“Sorry, Buttercup,” Wade said with a simple shrug. “I’m just doing what has to be done. It’s what’s best for all of us… Wow. I’m really turning into the true hero type.”

Another wave of tense silence crashed over the apartment. But, as usual, Wade couldn’t stand silence for long.

“Maybe we should start with what happened on our way home from work,” he stated, a seriousness to his tone.

“I knew something happened,” Logan muttered.

“I was not a big deal,” you said, unable to look anyone in the eye.

Wade scoffed. “I had to scare off a drunk man who you clearly had a run in before.”

“What type of run in?” Laura asked.

“Well, he said that she burnt his jacket.”

“The night you came home with your hands burnt,” Logan whispered, putting the pieces together. 

“The man was clearly hitting on her and wanting more—“

“Enough, Wade,” you said, trying to keep yourself together. “Enough… I handled it then and I could have handled it tonight.”

“You shouldn’t be handling anything when it comes to your powers anymore, mom,” Laura said. “It’s too risky.”

You clenched your hands as they began to tremble slightly. Laura’s eyes fell to your hands as she began to worry about what your powers might do. Logan watched as Laura’s concern grew and could sense that you were growing more emotional. He pushed himself off of the wall and headed into the kitchen. 

“Don’t think you can get out of the fire escape, Peanut!” Wade shouted after him. “I will chase you down and we will have a repeat of the Honda Odyssey on our hands. But this time with witnesses. I’m sure that our Little Flame would love that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan muttered. He grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge, a cup, and a few towels before heading back into the living area. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of you. “Here. Just in case.”

You looked up at him, unable to stop the few tears that escaped your eyes. “Why? Why you do try to take care of me? You don’t… we barely know each other.”

“I… I’m trying to do better.”

“Better? For who? For you? For… for the m you lost? I… I can’t be a replacement, Logan. Just like you can’t be for me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. You’re not a replacement and I’m not trying to be one for you… It’s… Yes, it’s a second chance in a way. This whole fucking new world is. And it’s not easy. But I’m trying to prove to you, to Laura, to Wade, to myself that I made the right choice by not following my instinct and walking away… Nothing good happens when I stay, but nothing good happens when I walk away.”

“I still don’t fully understand, Logan.”

Logan sighed. “Then… I guess I need to start from the beginning… I walked away from my version of you more times than I could count… I meet you for the first time when I first got to the mansion. I guess Wade would call the relationships an enemies to lovers. You didn’t trust me.” He smirked as he remembered his original you. “You were fiery and beautiful… and once I had your trust, you believed in me more than I have ever believed in myself… But I kept getting scared and I kept running. Every time I expected you to be there waiting for me to come back. I could see how much it was hurting you, you even fought me on it, but I continued to do it… Until one day, I came back after one of my longer stretches away and you had started something up with Hank.”

“Oh! Beastie getting some action,” Wade commented. You and Logan shot him a glare. “Okay, okay. I’ll remain silent over here.” Wade pulled out a small notebook and pen from his Deadpool suit. “Don’t mind me, just taking notes. Please continue.”

Logan moved his jaw around, trying to get back in a place where he could continue talking. “I confronted you about it and you put me in my place. But it still didn’t stop me from being an idiot… I left for the bar that night—“

“I know what happened,” you interrupted him. “You don’t have to say it again.”

“Yes, I do.” He met your gaze. You could see the seriousness in it and the sadness and guilt. “I do… You tried to get me not to leave… You called out for me, trying to get me to stay permanently… But I left anyway… I was drunk. More drunk than I ever have been… I only returned because I could smell the smoke… I knew it like the back of my hand. And I ran. But I got there too late… Flames were everywhere… students were dead… The X-Men piled like wood and burning… Hank had tried to save you… That much was clear. But he died trying… And you had died trying to save everyone else. I killed everyone who killed them and then some… This asshole,” Logan motioned towards Wade, “allowed me to have a second chance to be a better man… To be an X-Man—The X-Man. Yes, you’re here and you look like her, but you aren’t her and I am not trying to replace her with you… I just don’t want to lose what I’ve found. But I know that you’re struggling, seeing me. I know that I remind you of your husband. So, if my presence is only making things worse, I will walk away. Just say the word and you’ll never have to look at me ever again.”

“I don’t want that,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “I’m just… it’s hard… you look like him, but you’re not him. And seeing you has me realizing that I never fully grieved the loss of my husband—my family… On top of it all, my powers are dying—perhaps even killing me— and the only person I know can fix it, I’m not allowed to go near. I’m back in a year I’ve already lived, knowing that my past self and my husband are happily living not too far from here. It’s rough and I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems.”

“You’re not a burden, mom,” Laura said.

You shot her a watery smile as you reached over and grasped onto her hand. “Thank you, kiddo.”

“Any of us would do anything for you.”

“Kid’s right,” Logan agreed. 

“Like I told you earlier, Buttercup,” Wade spoke up, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to put you guys out—“ You cut yourself off as flames began to flicker from your fingers. “Damn it.”

Laura took a towel and dipped it into the water. “Give me your hands, mom,” she requested.

You looked away as you offered her your hands. Laura gently wrapped your hands in the damp towel. Wade pushed himself off the door, tore off his mask, and sauntered over to you. His hands came up and held your face, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You will always be my favorite superhero, Ember,” he told you, more sincere than you had ever heard him. “Even more so now. Your strength is more than your powers.”

“I don’t know how to do this… how to be helpless,” you cried.

“You’re not helpless, Buttercup. We’ll figure out your limitations and help you thrive where you can. You’re not one to give up and I’m not going to let you no matter how hard you try to.”

“None of us will,” Logan added.

“Just let us help you, mom,” Laura pled.

You swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” you rasped. “I’ll try.”

Wade pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he said. “Now, I think it’s time for a group hug!”

You laughed as Wade pulled you in for a hug and quickly reached behind you. He pulled Laura over who quickly joined the hug.

“Come on, Peanut!” Wade called, waving him over. 

“No,” Logan shook his head. 

“Come on, Logan,” you urged, glancing over at him. 

Logan’s eyes flickered from yours to Laura’s, who he could tell was hesitant but wondering if he was going to go through with it. “Fine,” Logan gave in and came over. 

Wade was quick to pull him in and the four of you hugged. It was a nice, weird family moment, but very much needed.

~~~

It was quickly decided that you were no longer allowed to walk home from work alone. Either Logan or Wade would be there with you or, in certain circumstances, Laura. Wade also insisted that you never work late on Thursdays and that becomes movie night. You were willing to make it work, though Logan wasn’t as big of a fan. You were forced to pinky swear with Wade that you would be honest when you weren’t feeling well, emotionally and physically. You quickly told everyone else that they had to do the same thing. 

As the days and weeks went by, it became easier for you to allow yourself to ask for help and let yourself be helped. Though, there were still times you wanted to hide away, you pushed through with the help of your make shift family. 

Unbeknownst to you, Laura, Wade, and Logan had teamed up to try to find you some help. Whether that help would be a telepath to reverse the damage that Charles had done or someone that could ease the pain that your powers now caused. Wade kept pushing for another multiverse adventure, but Logan and Laura were insistent that there had to be a solution nearby.

The summer flew by faster than you would like. It was late August now and you were getting your apartment set up for tonight’s movie night. Logan got off work early and got cleaned up before heading over to your place.

“Y/N?” He called as he entered the apartment.

“I’ll be right out!” You shouted from down the hall.

Logan entered the apartment fully and shut the door. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you appeared in the living room with a few blankets draped over your arms. “Just grabbing these.”

“I can take those.” Logan grabbed the blankets and pulled them from you.

“Thanks. I’m gonna finish up dinner.”

“Need any help?”

You looked back at him with a smile. “Sure.”

Logan’s brows furrowed as he turned to set the blankets on the couch. Something stirred inside him when you smiled at him. You smiling at him wasn’t a new concept, but there was something new that sparked within him. He shook the confusion off and headed into the kitchen where you were working at the stove. You could sense him behind you causing you to quickly grab a spoon and scoop up what you were cooking.

“Here,” you turned to him. “Try this.” Before Logan could protest, the spoon was slipped between his lips. “What do you think?”

Logan took the spoon from your grasp, something shooting inside of him like a bolt of lightning as his fingers grazed your hand. “It’s wonderful, doll.”

“Really? What a relief! I’m trying a new recipe and I didn’t know if you would like it.”

“Didn’t know if I would like it?”

You shrugged, turning back to the food. “You are the pickiest one out of all of us. Wade will eat anything and I already know which foods to avoid with Laura, you’re the one I’m still figuring out.”

Logan’s insides warmed at the thought of you worrying if he’d like what you made. It was pretty sure that he’d eat anything you made. “Well, I—“

“Mom! Mom!” Laura came bursting through the door with Wade hot on her tail.

“What is it?” You asked, hurrying from the kitchen with Logan. “Is something wrong?”

“I finished!”

“Our Little Wolf here got her GED!” Wade exclaimed.

“Oh, kiddo!” You rushed over and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Good job, kid,” Logan congratulated. 

“Thanks,” Laura responded with a smile. 

“So what colleges are we going to try for?” Wade asked. “I’m sure me and Peanut can scare some Ivy League schools into admitting you.”

Laura shook her head. “I’m not applying anywhere. I can’t leave, mom.”

“Sweetie,” you breathed out, taking her head in your hands, “if you want to go to college, I cannot be the thing that stops you. You need to live your life despite what’s happening with me. Do you want to go to college?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will apply wherever you want to and we will figure out the rest when the time comes. Okay?”

“Okay.” Laura pulled you in for another hug. “I love you, mom. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I love you too kiddo.”

Logan smiled at the sight of the two of you. He was always amazed at how you had raised Laura and the connection the two of you had. 

Wade caught the look that Logan was giving you and smirked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you sparked feelings and he wasn’t surprised Logan was first. Wade had traveled through multiple universes and had seen that every Wolverine had an Ember in some way or another, like they were drawn together with an invisible string. And despite you and Logan having previous versions of each other, Wade had an inkling that the two of you were also meant to be. Wade walked over to Logan and nudged his side.

“Hey, Romeo,” Wade whispered. “I think it’s time to start making the moves.”

Logan scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

Wade laughed. “Oh, the fun has just begun.”

next chapter >

[enihk-writes]

Can I suggest a she fell first he fell harder with Chung Myung

[when he sees me]

pairing: chung myung x f!reader

summary: he'd always known that she liked him, he just never knew he did too.

═══════════════

longing gazes weren't meant to go on for long, it was a movent of artistry in itself. to watch someone when their back is turned and to then turn away when just before they look back. it's like a dance, a push and a pull like waves coming in at high tide.

she thinks she might have looked at his back enough times to have his visage imprinted in her mind's eye. she loved all beauty that walked on this earth — he wasn't that much of an exception. at first, at least.

she liked how long and thick his hair was, and oh, she wished she could run her hands through it. when they were younger, their white uniform made him look rather cute. now, in their black uniform, she thinks he's grown into a dashing young man. his features developed beautifully over the years too, and she couldn't help but take notes on it. from his strong brow that turned up into a sharp point at the ends, to the slope of his nose and the fullness of his lips —

covering her heated face in realisation, she slinked down to the floor with her knees to her chest.

oh no. she was in love with chung myung.

═══════════════

he can see her from the corner of his eye looking at him, her trying to be discreet didn't work at all — he should've felt a little uncomfortable then, but somehow he didn't mind her staring.

it didn't take him long to put two and two together and figure out how she felt about him.

how could he not? when he sees her, she ducks right out of view with her shoulders raised — something she tended to do when she got bashful, just one of her habits he'd noticed.

or that time he turned back to see her still in her daze and in her little daydreams, her eyes filled with a silent, quiet flame of adoration.

at some point he'd begun to stare at her too. he appreciated how she always wore her heart on her sleeve — if she was happy, her eyes would crinkle up at the corners. if she was disappointed, her gaze would turn downwards as her hands play with the loose threads of her clothes. if she was confused, her eyes widened. he'd know she was upset and angry if there were tears gathering at the outer corners of her eyes.

he felt his insides twitch a little. nervousness? no, that's not it. well, it's not serious, so he'll think more about it next time.

═══════════════

she was a very careless girl, someone who was in her own little world up in the clouds most of the time. while he was a rather careful man, who always seemed to see too much, or know too much. and that was all the opportunity certain schemers hanging around them needed.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, when the door to the study room locked by itself as she came in to deliver paperwork to him.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, that they were both paired up in the sect duty roster pretty often.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, especially when the head of the medical hall or tang soso were sometimes too busy and had her come and patch him up on their behalf.

the awkward small talk slowly became casual conversations that would end in comfortable silence as the two stayed next to each other. he couldn't have known then that it would plant small seeds in his heart that took years to grow into vines that wrapped around and tugged down tightly whenever he was with her.

═══════════════

it all clicked together in the middle of one summer's night — chung myung sat up in his bed, hands grabbing at his hair and practically ripping them off it's roots. how could he have been so slow? how could he have been so stupid?

you are actually.

no i'm not! he snapped back at the sarcastic voice of his sa-hyung in his head.

it was funny how the metaphorical final piece of the puzzle was that damn namguang kid. he really thought he was so slick when he stole glances at her, huh?

stop being so jealous when you can't even admit to your own feelings.

his head dropped back as he stared off into the darkness, uncharacteristically quiet.

the guy was right. it was embarrassing how he'd always known but could never come to terms with his own heart. how he would freeze up for just a second each time she was close, how his hands felt like they were on pins and needles each time his knuckles would ghost over her side. he should've known then.

damn it. he liked her. he really loved her too.

he could only hope that it wasn't too late for him yet, that he caught up to her years of longing after him. tomorrow, first thing, he was going to make the first move. there was no way he was going to let that adoring gaze fall onto anyone else.

tomorrow.... tomorrow... and the days after that... what should they do together? chung myung feels himself drifting off to sleep with a snall smile on his face — giddy with childish delight over the thoughts of the first love of his second life.

[wubbowrites]

i would have liked to know you

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Relationship: Sonic & Maria Robotnik, Sonic/Shadow

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None!

AO3 Link

“I don’t know what he was like back then, but he’s a big fan of brooding these days.”

That got a proper laugh out of Maria. The kind that made someone tilt their head back, made tears well up at the corners of their eyes. Sonic didn’t think it was that funny, but he was glad she did. Her laugh was worth a thousand bad jokes.

—

Sonic has a strange dream.

Sonic had gotten pretty good at the whole lucid dreaming thing. So when he found himself sitting in a field of flowers he didn’t recognize, with a day-lit sky that was just slightly too dark, he knew that he was definitely dreaming.

The environment may have been a bit uncanny valley for his tastes, but it wasn’t terrible. The wind still felt nice against his quills. The grass was still soft. The flowers — whatever they were — smelled nice. Like a sweet, subtle perfume. And there wasn’t a single gray cloud in that strange, deep blue sky.

Sonic’s eyes fluttered shut. He listened closely to the sounds, felt the sensations around him. As he let himself savor the moment, he noticed a rustling behind him. His ears twitched, but he didn’t feel like opening his eyes just yet. Whoever was approaching was doing it slowly, and he sensed no malice. He let them walk up to his back, then plop down beside him.

Finally, he glanced over, and he saw a girl. A human girl, with long blonde hair and a pretty blue dress. Her skin was pale and she had dark circles under her eyes. She was thin. She looked tired. But she smiled at Sonic like he was an old friend of hers.

In a way, maybe she was. Sonic had never met her before, but he remembered enough of what Shadow had let slip in the past to recognize these details. He could put the pieces together.

“Hey,” he greeted casually. “Are you…Maria?”

The girl nodded. “How’d you guess?”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, that’s all. And I think I’ve seen your picture at least once.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you too, Sonic the Hedgehog,” Maria said with a giggle.

This surprised Sonic to hear. He tilted his head. “You have?”

“He still visits the ARK Memorial, you know. In Central City Park.” Maria waved her finger in a ‘check’ motion, like she was going through a to-do list. “Every year, on the dot!”

Sonic felt a wave of fondness sweep across his chest. He chuckled. “I should have figured. Though I never pictured him actually talking to you. I always imagined him just crossing his arms and glaring at the stone. I don’t know what he was like back then, but he’s a big fan of brooding these days.”

That got a proper laugh out of Maria. The kind that made someone tilt their head back, made tears well up at the corners of their eyes. Sonic didn’t think it was that funny, but he was glad she did. Her laugh was worth a thousand bad jokes.

Once she’d calmed down, Maria flopped down onto her back. She took a deep breath. Sonic watched curiously. After a minute or two, he leaned back too. While Maria laid straight with her hands folded properly against her chest, he tucked his hands behind his head as a cushion, and tucked one leg over the other.

Their styles couldn’t have been more different, but they shared the same blue hues. They enjoyed the same beautiful day.

“I’m sorry if this place isn’t quite right,” Maria finally said.

“What, did you make this?”

“I did. I wanted something comfortable so we could talk properly. But I was off planet for a long time, and there’s a big difference between remembering or studying what Earth looks like and actually seeing it for yourself. I had to guess a little to fill in the gaps.”

Sonic didn’t bother asking more. He just accepted what she said, tried to take it in stride. “Whatever the case, it’s great. I haven’t had a dream this peaceful in awhile!”

“True.”

Sonic’s ears twitched again. But he still didn’t ask why she would know his dreams well enough to say that. Or what she meant when she said she ‘made’ this place. What was the point of making sense of a dream?

But there was one thing he wanted to know. “What did you need to talk about?”

Maria suddenly sat up. She looked down at Sonic with glittering eyes. She looked so fond of him, despite them never interacting.

“I wanted to thank you for taking care of him. For keeping him company since I’ve been gone. I know he can be prickly, but…he really likes you, you know. I wasn’t lying when I said he talks about you. Every time he visits us, I get to hear about a new adventure of yours. You’ve always sounded wonderful, and…and he always sounds like he’s having fun. In his own way, y’know? You make him happy.”

And though all of this was a dream, and Sonic knew logically none of this was real, he still felt in his chest like it was. With that in mind, he smiled warmly back at her. “Of course. He makes me happy too.”

“I’m glad. I’m really glad!” Maria laughed beautifully again. “I think I would have liked to know you, if things had gone differently.”

Sonic nodded. “I think we would’ve gotten along great.”

“I agree!”

Maria laid back down. She scooched closer to Sonic, reached out, and grabbed his hand. He let her squeeze it.

And then suddenly, everything faded away.

—

Sonic woke slowly. Curled up in his favorite hammock, buried in blankets and a black and red hedgehog, he snuggled into its warmth.

He sleepily opened his eyes to see Shadow’s gloveless hand reaching around to hold his. Sonic felt him squeeze it.

“You up?” Sonic whispered.

A grunt. “You were mumbling in your sleep.” Shadow said it in an accusatory tone, like Sonic could have controlled that. It made Sonic giggle.

“Yeah, sorry. I had a weird dream.”

“Mm?”

“I, uh…I think I talked to Maria?”

He felt his rival tense up. With some difficulty (hammocks just weren’t built for two), Sonic rolled over to face Shadow. He didn’t look upset per se…but it was always a difficult topic.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t. I mean…” Shadow cleared his throat. “Don’t…apologize. What did…What did you talk about?”

Sonic hummed. He nuzzled into Shadow’s neck. One of his hands crept up to bury itself in Shadow’s chest fur. Curled up together like this was secretly Sonic’s favorite way to be. He knew Shadow loved it too — that it calmed him down from bad moments.

Sonic didn’t want this to be a bad moment. But he prepared, just in case.

“She thanked me for making you happy,” he said. “And I told her you made me happy too.”

Shadow went quiet again. Just as Sonic would’ve started to worry though, he nuzzled Sonic back. Silently reassuring that he was alright, just thinking.

Eventually, his eyelids fluttered closed, and his breathing started evening out again. Before he could fall back asleep, he said, “I think you two would have gotten along.”

Sonic snorted and closed his eyes too. “That’s exactly what we said.”

[curiositydoorunlocked]

That post I made about S4 pushing Will’s sadness was one made in jest. It was just a little joke post. I clicked the “post” button, closed the tab in my browser, and moved on with my very serious life. No more jokes for me.

But then something happened; permit me tell you a little story entitled “I spent too much time on YouTube, send help.”

…okay, now I’m done with the jokes 😅

In all seriousness, though: I’ve been watching a lot of ST reactions on YouTube lately and they’ve only served to show me just how effective that “WILL IS SAD! WILL IS SAD!” strategy was.

For real! Of course I haven’t seen all the S4 reaction videos out there, but I’ve watched far too many to reach my weekly screen-time goal, ugh plenty, and the trends were pretty damning. Every single creator I saw said “poor Will!” at least once during their watch. More often than not it was multiple times, actually. They were all rooting for him, feeling for him; they all saw his sadness, put the pieces together re: why he was sad (relatively) quickly, and went “No! Stop! I don’t like that Will is sad!”

This attitude was generally present across the whole season’s worth of reactions, but there are still some interesting takeaways re: what people responded to most that I’d like to share with you all.

First off the cartop talk in the desert seemed to resonate across the board. It wasn’t always included in videos, probably because it was a quieter scene sandwiched in between the gang literally burying a body, but when it was included it usually got a big response. Lots of nods and empathetic comments made at “…because what if…what if they don’t like the truth?” The van scene also hit hard for everyone, and I mean everyone. My personal favorite was this one dude that teared up and said something along the lines of “We’re only ten minutes into this episode, chill out!” while wiping his eyes!

Most of the reactors had a much stronger response to the Mike and Will scenes—and the associated Will sadness moments, of course—than they did the Mike and El scenes. Those elicited more frustration than anything—plenty of “God, why can’t you just say it, Mike??”s. One woman even gasped when Mike threw away the “From, El” note.

People smiled at the few cute moments El and Mike had; they empathized with El’s insecurities; they sighed at Mike’s hamfisted maneuvering.

What they didn’t do? Seem, well… invested. In the relationship. At all.

Even the cooing over Mike and El’s (very sweet) reunion was frequently overshadowed by joy at El and Will’s fraternal hug.

(It’s almost like putting something last telegraphs to the audience that it’s the most important…crazy how that works!)

But to wrap things up before this post gets too long…

I know “the talented creators of this historically well-written show decided to take the story in a particular direction and executed it such that it achieved the desired response from viewers” isn’t exactly a shocking revelation. Even still, it was nice to see, especially considering the following:

Most of these reactors were confident Will’s feelings wouldn’t be returned. The opinions were never phrased cruelly; they were always more along the lines of “it’s so sad that Will is in this situation, poor guy. I wish he could be happy but it doesn’t seem possible.”

In an odd roundabout way, those nervous, “where is this going to go?” vibes are omnipresent on Byler Tumblr too. (Or at least that’s the sense I’ve been getting since I returned from my hiatus—apologies if I’ve terribly mischaracterized you all!) I get that a lot of people are worried about the potential execution of a Mike/Will relationship, especially because the characters involved are so intertwined with the supernatural plot. We may see the writing on the wall re: the destination, but that doesn’t mean we know exactly what the journey will look like.

But guess what? These writers know how to disengage the audience from a couple that isn’t working, and engage it in a dynamic that is. They know how to stir up empathy for characters in different contexts. They know how to bring new information—in this case, Will’s feelings—to light and get people on board ASAP. These reaction videos are very encouraging proof of that—and in case it needs repeating, I watched so many of them, so I should know. (Why? God only knows.)

If these reactors were presented with a solution to this “problem” that would allow Will to get what he wanted without hurting anyone else… well, I’m confident they would jump right on board. And so would we, of course.

So, all of that is to say I encourage you to set the nitty gritty of it all aside every now and then. As a bunch of Youtubers have kindly demonstrated for us: everything’s going to be just fine 🙂

(And if you read this long for what was essentially just a positivity post, I commend you LOL. Thanks for sticking it out with me!)

[fandombandomfics]

The Aftermath (Gi-hun x reader)

Summary: after the events of episode 7, Gi-hun goes back to the dorm...but what awaits him there? Warnings: season 2 spoilers, angst, unspoken feelings, guilt ridden Gi-hun.

Gi-hun’s POV

He’s dead….he’s actually dead….Jung-bae…Young-il…all those men died and for what…for us to continue the games? We were so close and yet….we still lost. Is anyone even alive? Dae-ho? Hyun-ju? Y/N? So many thoughts in my head, where do I even start? 

“G-g-g-Gi-hun?” I hear someone ask. I look up, not realizing I’m back at the dorm already. I see Y/N looking at me with a worried expression. 

“He’s dead….Jung-bae…Young-il…they’re all…” I say, muttering softly. I see Y/N making their way over to me. The look on Jung-bae’s face is still fresh in my head. I feel arms wrap around me and I bury my face in their hair. Silent sobs wrack my body again, just wanting this all to be a bad dream. 

“Gi-hun…you did all you could,” Y/N says. So they're the one holding me.

“I could’ve protected him better….I shouldn’t have done it!” I yell, the guilt consuming me already.  If we won, they would all be alive...I could take Y/N with me and we can start over together. They joined the number of reasons why I wanted to end the games in these short few days. The guilt will consume me if I don't do something...

“Gi-hun! Blaming yourself wont bring them back from the dead!” They yell back. 

“They’re right….blaming yourself won’t bring them back…we must fight on and bring him down still,” Jun-hee says, putting her hand over her bump. Maybe they're both right....

“He already won…” I say, feeling lost. 

“We will figure it out,” Y/N says 

“Doubt they will let us vote now,” Player 333 says 

“Yeah doubt it too, guess we shall find out soon enough,” Player 125 says, giggling like a school girl. I look at him like he’s insane. 

“Ignore him, he’s high,” Player 333 says, earning a scowl from 125. 

“Mr., 456 sir,” Player 149 says and I look at her. 

“I’m Guem-ja and this is my son Yong-sik,” She says, motioning to player 007. 

“We might as well get to know each other's names, yeah?” Y/N suggests and I nod. 

“I’m Namg-yu,” “Myung-gi,” “Y/N,” “Gi-hun,”

“Dae-ho,” 

Y/N’s POV 

After finding out from Gi-hun what had happened, I was pissed beyond belief. You mean to tell me that the Captain shot Jung-bae short range in the chest? “This is bullshit,” I say 

“It is but here we are…” Gi-hun says and I look at him. 

“Screw this place,” I say, getting up from my bunk. 

“Y/N…” Gi-hun warns 

“Screw this place….and screw the captain for killing Jung-bae!” I yell 

“Y/N don’t,” Dae-ho warns again 

“You gonna kill the rest of us?! Huh?!” I yell louder, in the direction of the camera that I know they’re watching from. 

“You already killed Jung-bae, Young-il, Gyeong-seok…you killed everyone!” I yell, feeling tears stream down my face. Sobs wrack my body as I feel strong arms wrap themselves around me. I turn to see Gi-hun with tears in his eyes. 

“I want this to be over…” I say, my voice trembling as I talk.

“We will…we will get this to be over and we’ll go home…yeah?” Gi-hun asks and I nod, clinging onto him. We hold onto each other for the rest of the night…waiting for what tomorrow brings us…and our friends who are alive.

[feroluce]

HOW DID RAPPA AND BOOTHILL END UP BEING SO SWEET???

Before 2.6 even dropped, they were being cute! In Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail, Boothill describes Rappa's creations as "high-tech ninjutsu" rather than equipment, or machines, or anything else that someone would have normally defaulted to. This is something Rappa is very proud of and insistent about in her work, and he respects that!

Even with those party join lines, he refers to her not as a Galaxy Ranger, but by her chosen title!

Rappa seems to get a lot of shit for how she talks, too, with people throughout the patch accusing her of playing around or not taking anything seriously. Boothill though is swift to correct that, that even if it sounds like nonsense, Rappa is someone to be respected and a force to be reckoned with. He seems to really admire her resolve, and especially her intellect! He has nothing but praise for her, it's so so sweet.

And the way she talks about him, too! Like there are. A lot of things you can say about a man like Boothill fjkdlsajk but she always speaks so admirably of him?

There's also the difference in nicknames- Rappa refers to every other person as "Ninja." And most of them are descriptions that you can pick up at a glance, or without knowing a person too deeply. Singer for Robin is obvious, everyone knows who she is. Gama for Reca means "toad," which is a reference to the assistant director he always has with him. Baseball Bat for the trailblazer is also obvious. Ruri for March 7th means "lapis lazuli" which is probably a reference to her Six Phase Ice, or even her appearance since she looks like if a Stellar Jade became human. Hiryu for Dan Heng is actually "flying dragon" but it's also a famous video game reference so I'm only willing to put so much stock into that one fjkdsjakd and besides, she could have easily heard about March 7th and Dan Heng from Boothill, since he talks about the dango trio to Rappa, too.

But Boothill! Rappa refers to Boothill as "Silvergun Shura," with Shura being a reference to Asura, a demigod of war. It's a name used to describe someone fighting a relentless, inhumane war and desperately seeking victory. It also refers to a level of hell, governed by anger and pain. Both interpretations suit him strongly. It's not really a title you could give just looking at someone. It's something you'd have to know them at least a little more deeply for.

Boothill also very distinctly lacks the common ninja title- instead, in the EN translation, Rappa calls him Lord. It's a highly respectable title even in the original Chinese, apparently akin to addressing reigning royalty.

She just. Seems to respect and admire him so much? It's so so sweet?

And despite how often it's stated that Galaxy Rangers tend to work and travel alone, it seems these two are at least fairly familiar with each other, which makes me really happy! In an instance of beautiful timing, just today Hoyo released a new text convo, and! When she wants someone to hang out with, Boothill was one of the first people Rappa thought of!

Rappa knew Dan Heng because Boothill talked about him. She knew about Clockwork. Boothill has spoken with her often enough and long enough to know how deeply her hatred ran, and to be upset for her when Primon got away.

They both speak so positively of each other, even when one is out of of earshot. They openly show a ton of respect and admiration for one another, and the way they talk about each other is more than just two people who happen to be part of the same faction. They know each other more closely than that. Boothill is only in Penacony at all because of Rappa, and Rappa trusted Boothill enough to seek him out for this.

My favorite, though? The part I considered the cutest?

Rappa literally went all the way to the Luofu just to watch Boothill fight in the Luminary Wardance.

[skitskatdacat63]

I don't think I can ever emotionally recover from these

[cowboylikeyouu]

my life would be infinitely better if sam & dean would just GIVE EACH OTHER A FUCKING HUG more often

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?

fuck no.

those are not the only reasons.

if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.

when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.

and then... your eyes.

eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.

the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.

"f-fuck..."

toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.

the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.

you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.

he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.

but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.

you want more.

taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.

"toji?"

your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.

"look at me."

he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.

"please..."

his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.

"look at me, baby."

it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.

his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.

you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.

you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.

you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.

curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.

taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.

"fuck, come here."

his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.

he needs to give you his all.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Baby Fever?!

Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼

Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon) (a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Satoru Gojo

Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children. 

Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.

On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.

This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul. 

But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom. 

Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.

Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm. 

You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.

After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child. 

Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.

Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands. 

Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack. 

You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again. 

That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression. 

Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at. 

Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet. 

Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down. 

Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. 

Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes. 

Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them. 

Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly. 

Toji Zenin

It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission. 

But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air. 

They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him. 

Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation. 

The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed. 

“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow. 

Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin. 

“From you- you said it last night.”

Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible. 

“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again. 

“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek. 

Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken. 

And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans. 

But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.

The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms. 

Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child. 

After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things. 

“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about. 

Naoya Zenin

While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.

That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged. 

Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.

Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it. 

In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.

You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you. 

Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread. 

And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day. 

A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders. 

And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace. 

You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department. 

But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed. 

Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though. 

Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant. 

Suguru Geto

All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently. 

You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father. 

Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father. 

You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression. 

“Would you be a dad again?” 

Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was. 

You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh. 

“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot. 

You scoffed, “On?” 

“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from. 

Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had. 

Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking. 

“With…You?” 

You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. 

“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”

You grinned, “Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship. 

He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.” 

You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile. 

“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked- 

You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle. 

“Till 50- if we can.” 

Kento Nanami

You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father. 

The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed. 

Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you. 

“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep. 

A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer. 

Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.

Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.

You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.” 

Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question. 

“When?” 

Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled. 

“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes. 

“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work. 

You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.

Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping. 

“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.

After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment. 

Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either. 

The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it. 

Hiromi Higuruma

When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for. 

But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch. 

The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this. 

Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening. 

Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap. 

“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him- 

“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?” 

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant. 

“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly. 

Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him. 

“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation. 

He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.” 

The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile. 

Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich. 

“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered. 

“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want. 

Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.

“I think I do…?” 

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout. 

“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression. 

His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you. 

Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?” 

“...Now?” 

You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.

Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?” 

Choso Kamo

Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time. 

Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring. 

And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that. 

While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said. 

‘An army of children.’

Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first. 

Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store. 

Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said. 

Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?” 

You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store. 

Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did. 

Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t. 

You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant. 

Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet. 

His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind. 

Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)

So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children. 

You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army. 

-

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!