#I do think understanding comfort is a big thing for all of us to take the time to understand

[favoritesupernova]

bed time story!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ dad!satoru x fem!reader

genre/tags/cw: dad satoru, reader (tries) to put her foot down, daughter who looks exactly like him, one kinda suggestive comment, tooth rotting fluff, your daughter is the cutest.

satoru has spoiled your child endlessly, and now, it's biting him in the ass. first, it was only going to be one night that your child, sayuri, was going to sleep in the bed with you two. after that single night, she would start sleeping in her big girl bed.

then, one night turned into many that you and satoru were pushed to the edge of the bed, while your daughter would starfish posed, taking up all the space on the california king bed.

he constantly complains how he can't have you all to himself and how he just wants to give some 'loving' to his beautiful wife. when satoru says that, you give him the same cold answer, "well, look at the consequences of your actions."

it doesn't help that one pout of sayuri's lips makes satoru's heart strings tug, always giving into what she wants. "just look at her!" he says trying to explain to you why your daughter was sleeping in your shared bedroom for the umpteenth time. "i swear, next time i'll put my foot down, scouts honor." good thing he wasn't a boy scout, because he would get kicked out for his lying.

now, it's night time and sayuri insists that it's just one more night until she sleeps in her own room. "no, baby. tonight, you are going to sleep in your own bed. it's time that you start being a big girl," you say, making sayuri's lips quiver. "mama, please. just one more night," begging you, but you don't let up, making tears stream down her face.

satoru, being the overly dramatic father that he is, immediately picks up your toddler, and swaddles her like she's a newborn. he looks at you with big blue puppy dog eyes, but your eyes look like ones that belong on a venomous snake. seeing you with your arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, he sets her down and mimics your body language.

"my baby, my light of my life," he starts to say to sayuri, making your eyes roll before he could say anything else. "your mama is right. you need to start sleeping in your big girl bed. but…" and there it is. you clear your throat sarcastically, making satoru's eyes widen in fear, but he still doesn't let up to your scare tactics.

your daughter is looking at him like he's a superhero, making your mad heart flutter. "momma can read you a bed time story, but after, you have to sleep in your own room. do we got a deal?" he asks sayuri, making her put a small chubby finger to her chin, his arm extended as if it was a business deal they were negotiating. "we got a deal, sir," bringing her hand to his to shake it.

her feet pitter-patter away down the hallway, and satoru looks so guilty. "what?! i couldn't say no to that face. i mean did you see her? how could you ever—," he stops his sentence when he sees your irate face. "this is why she thinks she could walk all over us, satoru. you always give in to her and then you complain that she's taken over!"

he understands your frustration, he really does, but if you were in his shoes, you would completely understand. with the air sitting still, sayuri comes back with one of her favorite children's books, ready for you to read to her.

satoru and his twin jump into bed, snuggling under the covers. "don't get too comfortable, sayuri," you warn, "remember, only one story and then you sleep on your own, got it?" she quickly nods her head in response and you get under the sheets and start to read.

"once upon a time…" starting wearingly, trying to make haste to get your daughter out of the room quicker. you don't take your eyes off book, which in return, was a huge, fucking mistake.

ending the story, you close the book and turn to sayuri to let her know it's bed time. right then and there, you see not only sayuri's eyes closed, snowy hair covering a side of her face, but also your husband. his arm is behind her neck, making a barrier between her head and the pillow.

"no. fucking. way." you loudly say, hoping that satoru would at least flutter his eyelashes. it's no use though you hear a loud snore that could be mistaken for a growl. it was a sight for sore eyes, a view that you did not want to turn away from.

with no hope, you wave the white flag. you're tired, the day drained you, and honestly, you have no energy to wake satoru up. before you turn off the bedside lamp, you give satoru and sayuri a quick good night kiss. cutting the lights out, you let sleep take over.

however, what you didn't know was that satoru was faking his sleep. he knew that you would stand by your word. the reason is not because he doesn't want to spend alone time with you, if anything it's far from that.

the reason why satoru always gives in to his baby sleeping in your room is because he does not want to see his daughter grow up. making her sleep in her own room is a sign that she is getting bigger, making his dad heart tight in his chest. maybe, it will just be one more night, or maybe more, because he is not ready to see his baby girl leave his side (in the bed).

© FAVORITESUPERNOVA — do not plagiarize, repost, use or translate my works on any platform.

divider by @uzmacchiato

[avocado-writing]

What do you think the Papa's no.1 unhinged kinks are? I'm talking things that get them unimaginably riled up when thinking about it but they would need so much reassurance from their partner that "it's ok and they want to try it out" before they actually act on it.

It's ok if you think they don't have anything that wild going on. Just regular fav kinks work too.🤗🫶

ok I did my best, this is maybe not my strong suit. I’m not sure many of these are “unhinged” per se but I think some are kinda freaky? be warned. I’ve done biggest fantasies here!

Primo: deepthroating. Look, I know this is not that unhinged, but once again, HE IS HANGING 13 INCHES. Go and measure that RIGHT NOW. That is a fucking insane length. But if you can get it all in your mouth, down your gullet? The man is fucking gone. Just babbling your praises as he feels your breath against the coarse hair at his base, twitching in your throat while the tip practically sits in your lungs. He probably wouldn’t even ask you to try because it’s just too big, but if you’re willing, oh man, will he have fun testing how much you can take.

Secondo: piercing. But you must understand, he is the one piercing you. He’s very clean and safe and sanitary, he’s probably done this before so has the correct equipment and sterile environment, but there’s something about a needle passing through your skin in just the right, most delicious way that turns him on. He wants to pierce your nipples (and clit or cockhead, depending on what you’re rocking), then when you’re healed, attach those piercings to a chain and lead you around using them. It’s a mark of you submitting, of you belonging to him, and he goes mad for it.

Terzo: my man wants your whole hand in his ass. That’s it. He has a lot of kinks, but this is the one he’d feel most reluctant about asking for as he knows it’s a big extreme… but honestly he loves how it feels to have your whole fist in his hole. He’s so happy to sit and wait for as long as it takes to stretch him out/prep. How far up can you slide? The closer your get to the elbow the wilder he gets, panting and bucking and whining and losing his grip on reality. He likes to prove to himself that he can take it, he’s kinda proud of how much he can fit. Likes you moving around in his guts.

Copia: feminisation/gender play, I think. He is comfortable enough in his gender identity to play around with it a bit. Likes being Miss Emeritus for you, sitting on your lap as you apply his makeup, tell him what a pretty girl he is. Really gets him off to have his cock trapped in lace panties as he wears a short skirt, he’s hard pretty much constantly. He’s a showman and it’s all just another kind of performance to him, he has a whole bunch of outfits to show off to you as well…

Perpetua: my man likes blood. You bleeding, him bleeding? It’s all good. You can run a knife over his skin, dig it into the space between his ribs until he’s dripping in red; he gets so hard he almost passes out. His claws or talons nick you just enough to see crimson gathering in pearls along the cut and he is entranced, licking up every drop you spill and moaning at how it flowers on his tongue. If you want to cut him deeper he doesn’t mind. He wants you to leave a scar, remind him he’s yours.

[perplexingly]

how did you start your 3d enviro artist journey? i'm thinking around becoming a 3d artist myself but damnnn the industry seems really tough 😭

It is very tough, especially in the recent years with how many layoffs there were across all the big studios,,,

I had an easy start in that the uni I attended (The Animation Workshop) had a sort of collaboration with several companies that they'd take in interns - and after my internship ended I immediately got hired at the same studio.

I quit last year and it was very, very difficult to find a new job 🥲

Enviro art is still less competitive than character art though, so don't lose hope!! An important thing is that you need to be very open to having a sort of a jack-of-all trades position. You need to be able to do 3d art, have a good sense of composition for set dressing/level art, need to be comfortable using the engine of company's choice (which in big studios it'll be some internal engine, but knowing something like unity/unreal should prepare you for it).

Or alternatively you can aim to become a prop artist, which would be a more focused job - doing 3d assets based on concept art. You'll have to have very strong artistic skills, and knowledge of how to utilize trim sheets/texture atlases, and have a good understanding of UVing and topology. In that case you'll likely find a job as a freelancer, or with an outsourcing studio, it's less likely that you'd be hired as a core team in a gaming studio.

Best of luck!!

[rychillacases]

Huntrix Australia Tour HC

So, I recently watched K-Pop Demon Hunters, and have since read a few headcanons and fan comics. Some talked about Huntrix visiting Zoey's home in the United States. So it got me thinking about how them touring my homeland would go.

This takes place post-film, on the Comeback tour shown in the last scene. Not necessarily Polytrix, but could work for that ship.

The tour would cover the Asia-Pacific region, including New Zealand and Australia. So here are some things I think would happen on the Austalian leg of this tour:

When planning, Zoey points out how big Australia actually is. They agree to do some of the big regional cities as well as the capitals. Zoey is especially keen to visit Cairns. Mira and Rumi realise this is because it's the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef - a natural maritime wonder. So they arrange to have a mid-tour break there for a few days, and Bobby arranges some diving, snorkeling and glass-bottomed boat tours. When it's all booked in, they surprise Zoey with the itinerary. Her face lights up and she's grinning for days afterwards.

The tour starts in Melbourne, before heading up the east coast of Australia. Rumi is not cold-blooded, even with her demon side. But she's essentially conditioned herself into something close to it, after years of wearing long hoodies in summer to cover her patterns. It's Spring when they arrive, and Melbourne is cold. Even with jumpers on, she's still shivering. This isn't a problem in the hotel, where she can turn the heater on. But on stage it's a different story. She manages to get through her performances and Bobby has people waiting in the wings with thick jackets and hot water bottles to warm her up.

In Sydney, they do a signing/meet-and-greet outside the Sydney Opera House. While preparing, Bobby is very insistent about them wearing sunscreen. This puzzles the girls, as they usually wear it as part of their skincare routine. He gives them stronger stuff than usual, and tells them that the sunlight is worse here. One of the local people helping out mentions Slip, Slop, Slap, which is the slogan Australian children are taught for sun safety. (Slip on a T-shirt, slop on some sunscreen, slap on a hat.) Rumi and Mira don't quite get it. But that three-syllable alliteration sparks a lightbulb for Zoey. By the time they finish in Sydney and move onto Brisbane, Zoey's already got another song written.

Rumi runs into more trouble in Brisbane. The harsh Australian sunlight causes her patterns to itch. So she starts wearing light, long-sleeved tops to prevent it. Mira starts to worry about Rumi, she's covering her patterns again. She enlists Zoey, and the two of them stage an intervention on Rumi. They comfort her with hugs (mostly from Zoey) and she's baffled. But she listens to their concerns, and realises she's not explained it. Force of habit from when she was hiding her patterns. So she clears up the misconception. She's also touched that her friends were looking out for her like that - she's still getting used to being open about her patterns.

Next stop is Cairns, and the shows go well. They have their break afterwards. The girls can see Bobby is getting a bit frazzled, running a tour is hard work. They invite him to join them on their trips to the reef. He's not keen on swimming, but does join them on the glass-bottomed boat trip. Looking at the sea life and listening to Zoey talking about it, they understand her a bit more and can see why she's so keen on it.

On the plane from Cairns to Darwin, Zoey is full of gratitude and happiness, talking about how much she enjoyed it. Rumi and Mira are happy to see their Maknae happy.

When they reach Alice Springs, Mira finds herself drawn to the opals mined in the (relatively) nearby town of Coober Pedy, and the jewellery made from them. The colours in these gems remind her of the new rainbow Honmoon, and she buys quite a few of them. Earrings, necklaces and bracelets. She suggests incorporating some of them into their future outfits, as a way of honouring the rainbow Honmoon. Zoey and Rumi like the idea.

Tour goes well through Perth and Adelaide. Then they reach Hobart, which is further south and colder than Melbourne. Rumi's sensitivity to cold plays up again. But this time, Bobby is prepared. He's had a pocket sewn into the back of her stage costumes, on the inside. In these, a chemically-activated heat pack is placed to keep her warm while performing. It's functional and discreet.

After finishing in Hobart, they fly off to New Zealand for the next leg of the tour.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[joemama-2]

— the g (spot) in gyno

credit: _3aem on twitter

pairing — gynecologist! gojo x female reader

synopsis — you didn’t anticipate this is how getting your first ever pap smear would be like. soaked, shaking, and moaning. but hey—your doctor’s hot as fuck and dangerously good with his fingers, and his mouth is even filthier.

tags/warnings — smut, fingering, dirty talk in a medical way, slight praise, very unprofessional & unethical gojo, a little dubcon-y, power imbalance, oral (f. receiving). dividers by @/enchanthings

wc — 4.5k

a/n: s/o to remmm @/redrrem for helping me proofread + making this more slutty. xoxo mwah

Ever since you moved out of your suburban hometown and into the big city, you’ve had many more changes to get used to than you had initially thought. 

Someone taking your undesignated parking spot, the insane coffee prices, and waking up to the annoying sound of traffic in the early morning.

Another change that came with your move is finding not only a new primary care doctor or a hospital you can now call your go-to, but also finding a new gynecologist. 

And, unluckily for you, you haven’t been to one since…ever. 

You’re a bit afraid, which is natural, considering the many horror stories you’ve heard about metallic devices being shoved into your vagina, which hurt like a bitch, or how, on the contrary, it’s not painful at all. 

You know, you know, you need to go. And you won’t deny that you’ve been pushing this dreaded appointment off ever since you turned the right age. 

But now is the time. You’ve moved. You’re on your own in the big city, and times have changed. No more having to rely on your mother to schedule an appointment for you.

Your legs still feel wobbly as your name gets called. Standing from the chair you’ve been in for the past 20 minutes and following the kind woman in scrubs. She leads you to the back and into a designated room. 

Before you enter, you catch sight of the silver-plated "Dr. Gojo” plastered on the door. 

The first thing she does is check your height, then your weight, and lastly your blood pressure. 

That’s normal, you’re used to it. You reassure yourself and your pulsing heart rate. 

After the initial examination, she takes the strap off your arm, rolling over to the computer, and that’s when she begins to ask you questions. 

“So…Ms. Y/N, correct?”

You nod, fingers fiddling in your lap as you sit upright. “Correct.”

“I assume this is your first time?” she asks with a reassuring smile, noticing your fidgeting.

“It is,” you awkwardly laugh. “I guess I’ve just been…nervous, that's all.” 

She smiles and looks at you. “That’s completely normal. Many women have a hard time scheduling their first gynecologist appointment. But I just want to assure you that we will try our absolute best to ensure you are comfortable throughout the appointment. And of course, this is for your safety. We’ll be able to determine if—”

“Yeah, yeah. Diseases. Cancer. I know.” After you’ve just so rudely cut her off, that’s when you shamefully sigh and scratch your neck. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just nervous.”

The woman nods in understanding, focusing back on the screen. After a few silent moments, she clears her throat. “When was the first day of your last period?”

You think for a second, then answer: “About two weeks ago now.”

She nods slowly. “And are they regular?”

“Hmm, mostly. I guess? Sometimes I’m a few days late, never more than a week.”

“I see, how long do they usually last?”

“Maybe a few days... Or even a week?”

“Any specifics?” She’s typing on the keyboard. 

You purse your lips in thought. “I guess…around five to six days at most. Somewhere around there. I don’t really know.”

“Do you experience heavy bleeding or severe cramps?”

“Both,” you slump your shoulders. “But some periods I feel nothing, and my bleeding is less heavy.”

“And are you sexually active?”

Your cheeks burn stupidly for some reason, gulping. It’s a slightly difficult question, in all honesty. 

You’re not a virgin, but you’re also not getting dicked down frequently. “I’ve been celibate for more than a year now.”

The nurse, humming again, continues typing her fingers against the keyboard. The next few minutes are full of her questions about your sexual life, any symptoms or concerns you may have, medication you’ve taken, family history, and even mental health. 

You audibly sigh in relief when she finishes up, but this was the easy part. 

Now, left alone, having already removed your bra and underwear from your tank top and skirt, you’re actually fucking terrified. 

You’re forced to wait in agony and anticipation, trying to focus your mind on whatever shit you’re watching on your phone. 

What’s even worse is that you were informed that your gynecologist is a man. You wanted a woman. 

“Great, fucking great.” You scoff under your breath, fisting the thin layer of bed sheet beneath you.  

You try to think on the bright side of things. Getting a Pap smear and a breast exam during the same session. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. Or more like killing one bird with two stones.  

Your head whips up the second you hear a knock. The door handle turns, opening from the other side, as you scramble to turn your phone off and into your purse.  

Your mouth dries. 

“Hello, Y/N. I’m Dr. Satoru Gojo. I’ll be your primary gynecologist. How are you today?”

You can’t even respond, eyes shamelessly fawning over the man in front of you.

Tall, lean, extremely handsome. Soft, white hair pushed back lazily, but elegantly. Thin-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose that barely do anything to obscure the fact that his eyes are just so, so blue.

Standing before you, in a long white coat with scrubs underneath, with a smile that showcases his pearly white teeth and his dimples on his cheeks. You can smell his expensive cologne from here. 

Sitting on the rolling chair the nurse was on previously, legs spread slightly, he regards you with a friendly gaze that leaves you wondering…This man is your gynecologist???

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for your response.

You blink rapidly, words broken as you manage to stutter out a response. “O-oh. I—um—I’m great, thank you. And you?”

“I’m doing wonderful, thank you for asking. It’s a very hot day today, isn’t it?” He fans himself and looks out the window. All you’re focused on is his fingers. “The summer heat is getting brutal.”

You force out a laugh when he does, though it doesn’t sound as genuine as his. “Yeah, really, really…hot….” Your voice trails into a soft whisper, hypnotized by the way he adjusts the watch on his wrist, exposing just a peek of forearm muscle and veins. 

From his peripheral vision, he glances at you. Oh no. You’ve been caught staring. 

He simply chuckles softly and rolls over to the computer to look over your chart. “So, this is your first time, correct?”

“Correct…”

“I'll walk you through every step, okay?”

You nod, his honeyed voice calming your nerves. 

“We’ll start with a breast examination, then move on to your pap smear. I’ll step out and give you privacy to undress and put on this gown.” 

He opens a cabinet nearby and hands you the folded piece of fabric. His fingers brushing against you, making you flinch. Maybe it’s your delusional side, but you could’ve sworn his touch lingered—and his eyes sharpened just slightly behind his glasses. 

You’re so not ready.

The moment his cold fingers feel the underside of your breast, you can’t help but softly gasp. 

That doesn’t deter him. He mutters softly, “Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head, your throat dry. 

He hums. “Good, if anything does, please let me know.” Then he uses his other hand to lightly prod and feel the sensitive, soft skin of your breasts. Slim fingers move methodically, fingertips just barely pressing deeper into you, examining the areas for any unusual or concerning lumps. 

He shifts closer on his rolling stool, knees brushing against the edge of the exam table. You’re completely hypersensitive. From the antiseptic smell emanating from the room, to the way your heart is beating rapidly, the flutter of his pale lashes, and lastly, on the focused creases between his eyebrows. 

And of course, his hands on you just have to feel better than any other time you’ve been felt up before. 

Granted, he’s doing an examination, not ‘feeling you up’. And you’re a little—well, very—touch deprived. So there’s a perfectly good excuse as to why your thighs squeeze together from under the gown, fists bunching the material up and doing your ultimate best to hold back a whimper when the pad of his finger flicks against your hardened nipple. 

“Any tenderness here?”

Somehow, you manage a response through a shaky voice. “N-No, Dr. Gojo.”

Another faint hum of acknowledgment. “You’re sensitive, which is completely normal, no need to worry. Especially during exams like these.”

You nod silently, feeling a puff of warm air that he exhales. Each gentle, circular rotation from him feels like a restrained study. Moving from the outer edge to the inner, until his fingers skim over your perky nipples.

You’re almost tempted to close your eyes. To tilt your head back and ask him not to stop, but you restrain yourself. You swallow hard. 

“Skin tone is even, no visible discoloration. Your tissue is soft, no abnormalities.”

“That’s good,” you exhale shakily, eyes fluttering. You’re not so sure if it’s in response to him or his hands. 

He raises his pale blue eyes, a smile creeping up his lips. Focusing on the other side, he repeats his ministrations. His movements never rushed, they’re slow and deliberate with an occasional squeeze. 

“Consistent texture. I sense no masses. Your breasts are symmetrical,” his eyes move back down to your boobs in front of him, a constant. “You’re doing very well. Just keep breathing, okay?”

Your chest rises and falls in a stuttering way. He glances back up. Just once. 

“If you’re holding your breath, that may cause some tension. Try to relax for me.”

“Right. Relax,” you repeat in a quieter tone of voice. 

Heat pools in your belly, squeezing your thighs tighter. He runs his finger across your nipple again, flicking it in a clinical way to test your reactions. 

And boy, is your small gasp a reaction for him. Too bad your eyes are closed, you would’ve seen the boner he carefully hides in his slacks. 

“Highly reactive to stimulation. Again—this is very normal.”

Finally, after what feels like forever, his hands pull away, and you finally breathe right. Slowly opening your eyes, you feel your cheeks red, a small wetness between your clenched thighs that makes you panic at the thought of him seeing it. 

Does he smell it? 

You make eye contact, his tongue running over his bottom lip. His white teeth peeking out from his semi-smile. It’s like he knows the effect he has on you; he just doesn’t point it out. 

At least he’s somewhat saving your dignity. 

“That concludes the breast exam.” He confirms in approval, noting down whatever observations he’s made, before moving on to the next half of the examination.

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your muscles relax, watching as Dr. Gojo reaches for a pair of fresh latex gloves, before turning to you once again.

“We’ll move on to the internal portion next.” His voice is smooth as butter, professional, and friendly. You blink, your brain a bit foggy. His head tilts. “Unless you’d like a moment to catch your breath?”

God, just the way he asks that question. How his voice lowered and softened into honey silk. 

“No, I…I’m okay to move on now.”

His smile turns crooked. “Excellent.”

Completely bare from the waist down, the gown that once offered you the slightest bit of dignity now lifted up to your hips to present your bare core to the man sitting in front of it. Your feet were held up, planted on the stirrups, legs up and apart, and you’re left blinking up at the blank white ceiling. 

You hear some shifting from down there, assuming he’s getting everything he needs ready for the exam.  

Your bare thighs prickle under the cold air, and from your own growing sense of anticipation. 

Gloves snap against skin, a subtle clink of metal against a tray. 

“This may feel just a tiny bit cold. But if you’re uncomfortable or feel any sort of pain or discomfort, tell me immediately.”

You gulp. “Okay.”

His chair wheels closer between your thighs, his gloved hand gently resting on your thigh. “I’ll begin with the visual exam, just checking to make sure everything looks safe and healthy.”

“Okay,” you say again, as if it’s the only word you do know right now. 

You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing. You can’t help but tense when two fingers carefully part your folds, hips twitching—an involuntary response. He pats your thigh gently.

The cool air hitting your intimate area leaves you with goosebumps all over, unintentionally clenching your pussy as you feel his hot breath against your inner thigh. 

“Your labia appears healthy. No irritation, lesions, or abnormal discharge,” he clinically notes to himself. His two fingers spread you a bit more, wheeling closer. 

You can practically feel the heat of his gaze, your breath stuttering. It feels embarrassing. You try to reason with yourself once more that this is mandatory, just another check up for your own health, but fuck—getting examined like this, by a man this gorgeous, it feels different. 

Even worse when he says:

“You’re already lubricating naturally. That’s a very good sign, it means your body’s responding well.”

God, just kill me now. 

He pauses, then asks softly. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

“No,” you whisper. 

A low purr. “Alright.”

You hear latex against metal. “Now you'll feel just some slight pressure. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

You mentally brace yourself. 

Inhaling sharply as he presses the speculum into your entrance. It’s coated in lubricant, making the process somewhat easier. You’re still tense, however. 

“Relax your muscles, I’ve got you.” He pats your knee now. 

Well, that’s fucking hard to do when he’s putting a metal device inside your pussy. 

It’s cold, foreign. The dull slide of the metal instrument still manages to make you cringe and tense instinctively. His free hand that rubs your knee manages to ground you, even if just for a little bit. 

It slides in deeper in a controlled, careful manner. You wince. And he finally settles it in place. 

“Almost done, okay? Just a deep breath for me.”

Then, he gently opens the speculum, effectively widening your entrance to his focused gaze. The stretching of it makes your body and mind go rigid, a wheeze leaving your lungs as you fist the thin sheet laid beneath you. 

You want to just clamp your thighs together, to just push the object out. Somehow, you withstand. 

“You’re doing very well for me,” he praises, his voice smooth and even. “…cervix is high and centred. No inflammation. Looks healthy.”

He’s silent for a beat, and then: “We’ll take the Pap smear sample now.”

You nod, but your body stays stiff as a brush touches deep inside, brushing lightly, strangely. Not painful, but so intimate you could scream.

“Alright,” he finally says, retracting the brush and then closing the speculum before slowly sliding it out.

Instant relief washes over you, letting out an audible breath you were holding in for who knows how long. However, he doesn’t wheeled away yet. 

“And now, I’m going to perform the bimanual exam next. Just two fingers inside, and the other hand will press down on your abdomen. This allows me to check the size and position of your uterus and ovaries.”

You nod again, more dizzy than anything.

A pause. “Still okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe.

Then his fingers are back—two gloved digits sliding in slowly, steadily, and deeply. They fill you quickly, curling slightly inside you while his other hand presses gently down over your lower stomach. 

“You’re tight,” he murmurs, still sounding like he’s merely observing facts. “No tenderness. Cervix is firm but not rigid… The uterus feels normal. No abnormalities detected. Good response.”

You let out a shaky breath. The pressure of his touch is maddening. Not rough. Just exact.

“You’re clenching again. Try to relax around me.”

You whimper slightly as his fingers curl just a little more deliberately, pressing gently against the front wall.

“Very sensitive here,” he murmurs. “Highly reactive. Normal, but worth noting for future visits.”

“I-Is this…is this really part—I mean—necessary?” You manage to get out, voice strained. 

He chuckles gently. “It is all part of the job. Remember, tell me if you need me to stop, okay?” He eventually glances up at you again, noticing the way your face is as red as a tomato, and how you look like you’re holding something back, albeit barely. 

He likes the look in your eyes. Loves it even.

And unbeknownst to you, his cock twitches. 

He manages to keep his composure, looking back down at you spread before him, how your slick coats his latex-gloved fingers. Your scent is beginning to make him dizzy, and he almost wants to pull out and lick his fingers clean. 

He holds back. 

He’s a professional, remember?

“Internal temperature is warm. Muscles are responsive.” His fingers twist up slightly. “There.”

A sound catches in your throat. 

“Found it,” he says simply, as if identifying a sample on a slide. “You’re particularly reactive here. Let’s test the consistency of that response.”

He starts up a slow, controlled rhythm—his fingers moving upward, pressing with devastating precision against your G-spot.

You bite your lip, your body jerking with every press. 

“Pelvic contractions are increasing,” he observes. “You’re clenching harder around my fingers. Excellent neurological response.”

“D-Doctor—” you whimper.

“Shhh,” he coos, face leaning closer to your dripping heat, savoring the slick sounds of his fingers exiting, entering, curling, then exiting again. 

The next few seconds are agony, pure agony. Because, sure, this is an exam. But are they usually this long? Do they usually feel this good? And does your doctor always finger your G-spot with ease until you’re dripping out onto the bed? 

“Hypersensitivity right along the anterior wall. Fascinating.” He murmurs lowly, as if the way he moves his fingers in and out of you was part of the examination all along. “And every time I do…this—“ his two digits curl, smirking when he hears the hitch of your breath and sees the jerk of your hips. “You tense up. Means your nerves are firing just perfectly.”

“This…this feels…..”

“Good?” 

You can’t help yourself this time. A surprised moan escaping your lips when his thumb comes into the picture, lazily skimming over your clit with enough force to make you practically yearn for more. 

You hadn’t expected that. Especially that. Not during an exam. 

“Apologies, that wasn’t part of the plan,” he murmurs more so to himself, thumb barely hovering above your bud. “But your body is begging for more stimulation. Your clitoris is swollen and hot to the touch. I’d be remiss not to note this down.”

When you whimper again, his eyes flicker up, half-lidded. A slight smirk against his glossy lips. 

“Still with me?” 

“U-uh…huh…” you pant, your hips shamelessly rutting up against his fingers. You need more. 

His smile becomes thinner, eyes glinting with something hidden behind them. “Then I’ll continue. Neurological response is reaching its peak, I’ll apply more pressure now.”

Your toes curl in the stir-ups, head tilting back with your mouth parted in a quiet mewl. The tip of his fingers hit that special spot so effortlessly, and the way he talks as if what he’s doing is completely normal, it makes you feel warmer. Wetter. It makes you want something else. Maybe even for his cock to replace his fingers.  

“P-Please—”

“Do you need me to stop?”

You shake your head helplessly. “N-No—I just—” 

“You’re pulsing,” he croons. “Try to hold on just a bit longer, can you do that for me?”

“No…!” You cry out, your hand shooting down to hold his wrist. Your body is moving on its own at this point. You moan again when his middle finger rubs your G-spot, back arching off the examination table. 

“I think you can,” he merely suggests, his thumb swirling your clit. 

You see stars, wetness prickling at your eyes. 

“Clitoral sensitivity is elevated. Likely from prolonged internal and external stimulation.”

Your hips shift, rutting against the heel of his palm. You’re conscious of the way you clench down around his fingers, like you’re trying to suck him in and bring them deeper. 

In your mind, it’s all a jumbled mess. You’re aware of what you’re doing—of what he’s doing. Questioning if this is appropriate in the first place, if he’s even a damn gynecologist. 

But this far in, you’re only focused on one thing. 

Your voice is barely a whisper. “Dr. Gojo, I—”

“I know, I know. You’re overwhelmed, correct? That’s normal.” His fingers hit your spongy wall, rubbing and curling. “However, I am surprised you haven’t orgasmed yet. Maybe my fingers aren’t doing that good of a job?” 

He chuckles at his own shitty joke, all the while you’re completely falling apart. 

“This is still a part of the exam,” he says again, but softer this time. More dangerous. “I’m checking your response to prolonged internal stimulation. Monitoring consistency. Depth. Pressure. Pleasure.”

And just like that, he brings his fingers out, thumb withdrawing from you. 

It feels like a blow to your pussy, a physical punch that leaves you winded and panting and broken. It’s completely devastating. You’re left clenching around nothing but air, desperately begging for something to fill you once more. A whine claws up your throat, raw and utterly needy. 

Before you can even question anything or attempt to regather your bearings…

He slides back in. 

Faster. Harder. 

Your loud, broken sob that morphs into a moan echoes off the walls of the office. “Dr!”

The wet, filthy squelchy sound of your cunt swallowing his long digits welcomes his ears. He sighs in blissfulness. His fingers drive into you, knuckles deep, curling—dragging—along that same pulsing spot with surgical precision. Your walls tighten violently around him, trying to hold him in, to milk him like it’s his cock instead, your body betraying your mind completely.

You can’t stop the tears that now trickle down your cheeks. The overstimulation, the embarrassment, the need. Your hips twitch again, greedy for more, even as your legs shake helplessly in the stirrups. “W-wait…I…this isn’t…”

The lewd sounds are slick and steady, timed with your ragged breathing and broken gasps. And somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to say ‘stop’, to tell him this isn’t right. 

Maybe this is normal? Maybe this always happens. It is your first time, so everything probably feels way more intense than—

Spit!

A filthy warm, deliberate wad of saliva hits your shivering cunt with abrupt forcefulness. It makes you wheeze, jolting. 

“Hah…look at that,” his voice is low, ragged—almost breathless in awe. “Oh, right. Sorry, intrusive thoughts. But I was right, you contracted again. It makes me wonder...”

“Dr. Gojo—!” You whine out, eyes closing forcefully. “F-Feels—hah—good!”

His spit slides down your creamy slit slowly, meeting his gloved fingers, and the rest of it wetting the sheet below. He studies the way your pussy tenses, how it flutters like it needs something bigger—thicker. 

“There it is again,” he whispers reverently. “You like that?” His eyes flick upwards, taking in your fucked-out expression. Eyes half-lidded, cheeks red, panting for air, your tongue peeking out from your pink parted lips. 

His fingers fuck into you with slow precision, letting the obscene squelches take over and act as background noise to your inevitable unraveling. 

“Now, just Imagine if I let my mouth take over.” His voice is pure filth now, drawn out and dark with desire. “I wouldn’t even stop to breathe, you know? I’d spit, lick, suck this pretty little clit until you came all over my face. Would you like that, sweetheart? You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You nod without much thought, hips bucking up again as you chase your high. The speed of his fingers slows down, allowing you some moments to breathe. But all of that is thrown out the window. 

You should’ve expected it. He did ask. And you did nod. 

But you didn’t think he’d actually—

“Ngh!”

A cry tears through your throat. 

His lips making contact with your slippery cunt is what you register first. Then his tongue lapping up the slick, swirling around your quivering hole, then up to your puffy clit. His lips wrap around the bud—wasting no time in absolutely eating you the fuck out. 

His nose is shoved against your skin, muffled groans mixing in with your whimpering sighs and gasps. 

Your brain short-circuits, back arching completely off the exam table. The flick of his experienced tongue—both slow and indulgent—absolutely wrecks you. “Oh my god—” you gasp, voice cracking. 

You can faintly make out the low muffle of his chuckle through your dazed mind. 

His mouth alternates. Switching from a long, slippery stripe up your cunt to hungrily sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite snack. Wet, popping noises fill the room. 

His moans are stifled, his so-called ‘professionalism’ wavering by the second and his hands—the ones that felt so precise and methodical just minutes ago—now dig into your thighs, forcing them open for his impatient mouth. 

He works you with obscene devotion, admiring the squelch of his hot tongue against your soaked flesh. 

“F-fuck, Doctor—please—” you whimper, hands fisting the sheet beneath you, head tossing back against the paper-covered cushion.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. He’s like a man possessed. His tongue curling and flicking, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance again just to lap up the fresh slick you keep leaking for him.

“Fuck,” he groans into you, the sound so guttural and real it makes your toes curl. “You taste so fucking good—this pussy’s unreal.”

You cry out again as he sucks harshly, tongue pressing flat, lips tugging just right—and it absolutely shatters you.

Your orgasm hits hard. Harder than any you’ve experienced before. Either by your own doing, or from another man. Because this time—this time—you see stars. 

Your ears ring with vibrations. Your vision whitens out, and for a second, you think you may have died from how fucking hard you just came. 

You think you’ve stepped through the gates of heaven. Your body? Limp. Chest heaving up and down with breathless pants. You feel flushed and hot to the touch. It’s utterly violent. 

Thighs instinctively clamping shut around his head like you’re trying to save yourself from something that’s already been done. 

How cute, he thinks. 

You sob through your unravelling, hips jerking against his face as he devours every second of your release. He doesn’t pull back, instead he rides it out with his mouth locked to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him like he’ll never get enough.

Finally, your spasms fade slowly. The ringing in your ears dulls, and you can make out the ceiling of the room—the antiseptic scent invading your nostrils again. Though this time, mixed with something much more salacious. 

Your back collapses against the table. Blinking weakly, you barely manage to look down between your spread legs. 

There—your doctor—tilts his head back. His beautiful face glistens. His lips are pink, shiny, and swollen. He smiles unapologetically. 

Breathing out—shaky, satisfied, and completely drunk on you. His lashes flutter across his cheekbones as he exhales through his nose, like he just came without even being touched. 

He licks his lips in a disgustingly pornographic way. 

His voice, when it finally leaves his throat, is wrecked—raspy and hot, full of hunger not even close to being sated.

“So, I’ll see you next week for your fertility examination?” 

a/n: hope u all enjoyed this <333. wish i could’ve made it longer but this whole fic took WAYYY too long for me to completely finish 😹😹 again, ty rem for helping me proofread & brainstorm. love you!!!

taglist: @miizuzu @dickktektive @momoewn @beabamboo @ilovemyswlf3

@hazel-babbit @satorus-princess @yuhhh03 @mymoonisgrey  @yesdere

@ilperfect @satoblue @all-with-angel @nina-from-317 @httpstoyosi

@forevamsoo @aldebrana @satorusprites @bmorgonzobean @wanna-amani

@mxlktae @lilychan176 @sirencholia @saitamaswifey @zeunys

@dracosangelsworld @emochosoluvr @picoporii @zoeyflower @ehcilhc

 @privthemis @kiraflowersworld @naialace @luvleixo @ersvni

@beli-eve-ing @gojowifefrfr @blushedcheri @reactwithjan @surethingmoto

@konatakona @thisiswhereishitpostalot @slightlystressed @casssiesthings @siobhankk

[fallenbratfiction]

your dog hates men due to his past before coming into your life. what happens now that you've started dating bucky?

a/n: slowly getting back into writing? I’ve missed my man bucky barnes so I’ve got a lot in store for him. this one is one of my favourite ideas ugh!!! i hope you enjoy this!!

mentions: animal abuse in the past, abuse mentions related to the dog. fluff, trust fall

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own

minors dni with my blog or my work

You had gotten Sergeant over two years ago while you were volunteering at the local shelter, and both your life and his had changed for the better. He had suffered a life of abuse while living in the streets; other owners before you had mistreated him in ways you couldn't bear to imagine.

It had taken some time in the early stages to somewhat train him and get him used to walking on a leash, being at parks, being social with other dogs and people, but there was something that no amount of time could fix: his fear of men.

And when you began dating Bucky a few months ago, you knew that would be a big problem.

It was a rational fear; who could blame him after all he had been through, right? It had only extended to growling and barking, but you didn't know how bad things could get.

You didn't tell Bucky about your dog at first, and you avoided inviting him to your apartment, making all sorts of excuses and staying over at his place instead.

But then it came up while you were in bed. The side of your face pressed against the pillow, facing Bucky and him as well. His hand on your face gently caressing as he looked into your eyes.

"Is there a reason why you don't want me over at your place?"

It came out of nowhere and you were unprepared for the conversation.

"What? No it's not-

"Maybe it's too soon, I mean we've been at this for four months now, right? I get it if you think having me over is a lot for you or if you live with your parents, which is totally okay I wouldn't be improper at your parent's ho-

"Bucky it's none of that" you interrupt him with a smile and sit up in bed. He watches your moves and sits up as well. "It's hard to bring it up"

"Hey, you can tell me anything doll"

"I have a dog, okay?" he just stares at you and expects the details. What's so bad about having a dog, right? "His name is Sergeant."

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just sits there, legs crossed, blanket half-fallen over his lap. His expression isn’t shock or confusion. It’s something closer to tenderness — like he’s trying to piece together how to make this easier for you.

“You think I’d be scared of a dog named Sergeant?” he finally says, smiling gently.

You huff a laugh, but your fingers are already fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. “He’s not just a dog, Bucky. He’s been through more than most people. And he doesn’t trust easily. Especially not men. Ever since he was a pup living in the streets, he was abused and mistreated by them so he growls and barks and can jump up sometimes. I-I've tried to train him, but if you come over, I'm not sure what could happen, and I don't want you or Sergeant to have a bad time so uh yeah.”

“I get it,” he says. And this time, it’s heavier. Not just words — he gets it. You realize, maybe for the first time, that Bucky understands fear. He understands trauma that lingers even after the threat is gone. “I’m not trying to replace anyone or make him like me. But if he’s part of your life, I’d like to meet him. On his terms.”

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of discomfort or doubt. But all you see is sincerity. Patience.

“You’d really be okay with that?”

“Yeah, doll. We’ll take it slow. I’ll bring treats. He can bark all he wants, I’ve had worse aimed at me.” He nudges your knee with his. “And if he decides I’m a lost cause, you can always meet me halfway. Or we can do the whole ‘dating outside with a chaperone’ thing.”

You laugh, finally. It feels like the knot in your chest starts to loosen a little.

“You’re something else, Barnes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Besides… I already like the name. Sergeant and Bucky? Feels like fate.”

Eventually, the room quiets. The conversation fades into silence, but it’s not awkward — just still. Peaceful. You fall asleep wrapped up in him, warm and safe. And even though tomorrow still holds uncertainty, it doesn’t feel as scary anymore.

Not with him in it.

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

“Okay, listen,” you murmur, curled up on the couch with Sergeant pressed against your side. “I need you to do something really hard for me tonight.”

Your fingers scratch gently behind his ears — the spot that always makes him huff and melt just a little. He stays still, his big eyes watching you like he knows something’s coming.

“I don’t want you to hate him,” you whisper. “Please, just… try not to hate him. For me.”

He shifts beside you, the weight of him solid and warm, but his body’s already starting to tense. He senses it — the change in your voice, the way your breath catches.

“Bucky’s a good guy,” you continue, voice softer now, your hand moving to stroke between his shoulders. “He’s not like the others. He’d never hurt you. He’s patient, and he listens, and… he makes me feel safe.”

Sergeant’s ears flick. He doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m not asking you to love him,” you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Just… maybe don’t bite him?”

Then the buzzer goes off — a loud electric buzz that makes Sergeant’s head snap toward the door, a sharp growl already rumbling low in his throat.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before walking over to the intercom. You press the button with a shaky hand.

“It’s me,” Bucky’s voice crackles through. “Can I come up?”

You exhale, grounding yourself.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Come on up.”

You glance over your shoulder at Sergeant, who’s now sitting upright, alert. His ears are perked and his body tense in that familiar way that makes your stomach twist. You kneel beside him one last time, running your hand over his back.

“Okay, listen. He’s not gonna hurt you. I swear. But I need you to be brave, okay?” Your voice is gentle but trembling just slightly. “Just like we practiced. You stay here, I’ll open the door.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you, eyes dark and wary.

You unlock the front door and wait. The seconds stretch like molasses, heavy and slow. Then a soft knock.

You open the door.

Bucky stands there, not his usual confident self. He’s dressed simply — dark jeans, soft henley, sleeves pushed up — but it’s the way he holds himself that strikes you. He’s… careful. A little unsure. Like he doesn’t want to take up too much space.

“Hey,” he says quietly, holding up a brown paper bag like a peace offering. “I brought snacks. For both of you.”

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. “He’s on the couch.”

“I figured,” Bucky says, stepping inside slowly, his movements measured, like he’s walking through someone else’s war zone.

Sergeant sees him instantly. A low growl bubbles up, not aggressive—more of a warning. A line in the sand.

Bucky stops mid-step, crouches low without looking directly at him, and sets the bag on the floor. Then he pulls out a plastic-wrapped bone and, without extending it, gently rolls it across the floor toward the couch.

“Hey, Sergeant,” he says, his voice impossibly soft. “I’m Bucky. Just here to hang out, okay? You can have that if you want. No strings.”

The bone rolls to a stop in front of Sergeant.

He doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t bark. He growls again, softer this time, but his tail twitches once. You hold your breath.

Sergeant looks at the bone. Then at Bucky.

And he doesn’t move. But he doesn’t retreat either.

Bucky stays crouched for another moment, then slowly lowers himself to sit cross-legged on the rug. Not on the couch. Not in Sergeant’s space.

“I’m not gonna touch him,” Bucky says, glancing up at you with a faint smile. “Promise.”

You sit down beside Bucky, close enough to touch, but not quite. He lets his knee brush yours, grounding you.

“I know this probably isn’t what you expected,” you whisper.

He shrugs. “I’ve dealt with tougher first impressions.” He nods toward Sergeant, who’s now sniffing the air but hasn’t made a move for the treat. “He’s a smart guy. Just cautious.”

“So you don’t hate him?”

Bucky looks over at you, really looks, eyes soft. “Of course not. He’s protecting someone he loves. I get it.”

Your throat goes tight.

Sergeant lets out a huff. Then slowly — slowly — he leans down and takes the bone between his teeth, pulling it toward him on the couch.

Bucky doesn’t react. Just smiles to himself like it’s a small victory.

You reach for Bucky’s hand, threading your fingers together.

“He took the treat,” you whisper.

“I know,” Bucky says. “We’re making progress.”

And for the first time since you met him, Sergeant lies back down — still alert, still cautious — but chewing his treat just a few feet away from the man he once would’ve seen as a threat.

You rest your head on Bucky’s shoulder. He leans into it, gently.

And even if it’s not perfect, it’s a start.

Bucky learns to move slowly in your space.

At his own apartment, he’s handsy — teasing touches at your waist while you cook, his palm on your thigh while you talk, kisses that start soft and turn into something else entirely. But here, in your home, it’s different. Not because he doesn’t want to touch you, but because he’s being watched.

By Sergeant.

The dog never barks anymore — not unless Bucky moves too quickly. He’ll let him in now, doesn’t growl when he steps over the threshold. But once Bucky gets near you, once there’s a kiss or a hug or even his hand brushing against yours, Sergeant’s ears go up. His eyes sharpen. A quiet growl hums in his chest like a warning bell.

And Bucky respects it. All of it.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch unless Sergeant’s had time to settle, and even then, he doesn’t try to pull you into his lap or hold you close like he usually would. Sometimes, he’ll rest his hand beside yours, close but not touching, and let you be the one to reach first.

You hate it, a little. Hate the way the space between you feels wider than it should. But you love Sergeant too much to rush him. And Bucky? Bucky never complains.

He brings a new kind of treat every time — liver jerky, sweet potato chews, chicken-flavored bones. He doesn’t offer them directly. He just sets them by the door, or on the edge of the coffee table, and lets Sergeant choose.

“Buying his love?” you tease once, curling against Bucky's side when Sergeant’s finally dozing across the room.

“Bribery is underrated,” he says with a crooked smile. “Besides, I get it. If some guy walked into your space and started hanging off me, I’d growl too.”

You laugh, and he kisses your temple — slow and soft, watching Sergeant’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Sometimes, late at night, you lie in bed together. Bucky keeps the touches gentle — just his hand on your back, or your fingers loosely twined. Sergeant sleeps at the foot of the bed, one eye half-open, like he’s not ready to fully trust the man beside you yet.

But one night, when Bucky shifts slightly to kiss your shoulder, Sergeant doesn’t growl. He doesn’t move.

He just lifts his head, watches for a beat, then lays it back down.

And Bucky exhales against your skin like it means everything.

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

Bucky’s sitting on the couch, one arm slung over the backrest, eyes half on the TV and half on you as you move around the apartment.

He watches you tug on a hoodie, then sees you grabbing poop bags from the drawer and unclipping the leash from the wall hook.

“You heading out, doll?” he asks, voice low and easy.

“Yeah,” you say, stuffing the bags into your hoodie pocket. “Just taking him for a walk. I won’t be long.”

Bucky nods, tapping his fingers absently against the armrest. Then, after a pause: “Can I tag along?”

You turn, surprised. “You sure, Buck?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “If Sergeant doesn’t mind. Thought it might be good—some progress, y’know. If not, I’ll just hang back here.”

You glance down at Sergeant, already sitting patiently by the door, eyes locked on the leash in your hand. Then you look back at Bucky — and the quiet, steady kind of hope in his expression.

You give a small nod. “Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”

You glance at Sergeant. His gaze is locked on you — not Bucky. But he doesn’t growl. Doesn’t retreat.

You clip the leash to his harness carefully, then reach for the door. “Okay, let’s try it.”

Bucky doesn’t rush. He waits until you’re already stepping into the hallway before he moves — slow and steady, arms at his sides, shoulders loose, like he’s trying to shrink himself smaller than he is. And Sergeant watches him every step of the way.

Outside, the air is crisp and cool. The sun’s beginning to set, casting soft gold over the pavement. You keep Sergeant close to your side, walking a few paces ahead, giving him space.

Bucky walks just slightly behind, hands in his pockets, not making eye contact with Sergeant, not reaching for you. He doesn’t even try.

But Sergeant keeps glancing back. Not in fear — in curiosity.

At the corner of the block, a jogger passes close, and Sergeant shifts in front of you protectively, body tense.

Bucky reacts without thinking — takes a small step forward, just enough to shield you.

And that’s when Sergeant turns to look at him. Really look.

There’s no growl. Just a long, silent pause.

Then — to your complete disbelief — Sergeant takes one step toward Bucky. Then two. His nose lifts, sniffing the air near Bucky’s knee.

Bucky freezes, eyes wide. “I’m not moving,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice hushed.

Sergeant’s nose bumps lightly against Bucky’s leg. He sniffs, circles behind him, then returns to your side.

“That was…” you blink. “That was new.”

Bucky’s expression softens, almost awed. “I got vetted.”

You laugh, stunned, and a little choked up. “Yeah, I think you did.”

Bucky glances down at Sergeant. “Thanks, buddy,” he murmurs.

And maybe Sergeant doesn’t wag his tail — not quite. But he doesn’t bristle, doesn’t growl.

It’s something.

It’s progress.

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

It’s one of those nights where sleep slips through Bucky’s fingers like water.

He lies there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the city outside your window barely cutting through the fog in his mind. Your breathing is soft beside him, a slow rhythm he usually finds comfort in. But tonight, even that can’t quiet the buzz under his skin.

Eventually, he shifts, careful not to wake you. Your hand twitches where it rests near his ribs, but you don’t stir — just turn slightly, a soft snore catching in your throat.

He watches you for a moment longer before slipping out of bed.

The floor creaks under his weight as he pads out of the room, and Sergeant lifts his head from his spot near the foot of the bed. There’s no growl, no sound at all — just alert, curious eyes following him.

In the kitchen, Bucky pours himself a glass of water, hands steady even though his chest isn’t. He doesn’t drink right away. Just stands there, leaning against the counter, letting the coolness of the glass anchor him.

He hears soft nails clicking on the floor before he sees Sergeant.

The dog pauses at the edge of the kitchen, watching. Not close, not too near — but there. Present.

Bucky offers a small, almost sheepish smile, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says softly. “Brain’s loud tonight.”

Sergeant doesn’t move, but his head tilts slightly.

Bucky huffs a quiet breath, more air than laugh. He walks to the couch and sinks onto it with a groan, setting the glass on the coffee table. Sergeant follows at a slow, deliberate pace, keeping his distance, but still close enough to see him.

Bucky leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them. His eyes stay on the floor.

“Just a hard night,” he murmurs. “You’d get it… right?”

He glances over, and Sergeant is watching. Ears perked. Silent.

“I’m afraid of men too, Serg,” Bucky says, voice lower now. “Not all of them. Just...the kind of men that did this to me," and moves up his metal arm for him to see.

Silence.

Then the faintest shift — the quiet sound of claws against hardwood as Sergeant lies down, just a few feet away.

Not touching. Not close.

But closer than he’s ever been without you there.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else. Just leans back, breathes in the stillness, and lets the presence beside him speak louder than words.

Bucky stays quiet on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The weight in his chest hasn’t eased, but he’s breathing through it.

Sergeant still lies a few feet away. Watching.

Then, slowly, the dog gets up.

Bucky hears the soft shift of weight, the light tap of claws on the floor, and glances over.

Sergeant is approaching.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… deliberate. His movements are cautious but steady as he walks to the edge of the couch, his head dipping low to sniff at Bucky’s bare forearm.

Bucky freezes — not in fear, but reverence. Like something sacred is happening.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Sergeant sniffs again, and then—he sits.

Right in front of Bucky. Not pressed close, but not far either. Just there. Solid. Present.

Bucky looks down at him, uncertain. His instinct is to reach out — but he doesn’t want to ruin it. Doesn’t want to misread this rare, quiet invitation.

He lifts his arm slowly, inch by inch.

Sergeant doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t growl.

Just watches.

So Bucky moves closer — slowly, gently — until his hand is hovering just over the dog’s head.

Still no growl.

He lets his fingers lower, the tips brushing against Sergeant’s fur. It’s coarse, thick. Real.

Bucky exhales like he’s been holding his breath the whole time.

He rubs slowly, one soft stroke down the center of Sergeant’s head. Then another.

Sergeant blinks. Then shifts, not away, but closer. A quiet nudge under Bucky’s hand, like: go ahead.

Bucky swallows hard, eyes stinging.

“Thanks, pal,” he says quietly, voice rough with something unsaid.

And for the first time in this apartment, in this complicated triangle of trust, Bucky isn’t just the guy trying to be patient.

He’s accepted.

And neither of them says anything more.

They just sit there, in the soft hum of the night, the soldier and the dog — both still healing, both still learning to trust.

The sun is barely up when you wake, the sky outside still painted in soft gray and peach. You blink a few times, expecting to feel Bucky beside you.

But the bed’s empty. Cold.

You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes, and glance toward the bedroom door, cracked open just enough to catch a faint sliver of light from the living room.

Quiet footsteps carry you out into the hall, heart already tugging with concern. Maybe he had a nightmare. Maybe—

You stop.

Your brain short circuits.

Bucky is on the couch, fast asleep.

Laid out on his back, one arm dangling off the side, his mouth just slightly open, brow smoothed in rare, deep rest.

And Sergeant?

Sergeant is on top of him.

Half on his chest, half wedged along Bucky’s side, snoring lightly, his head nestled right into the crook of Bucky’s shoulder like he belongs there.

Your hand flies up to your mouth.

What the fuck.

You stand there frozen for a beat, not breathing, like moving too fast might wake them up and shatter the impossible moment in front of you.

Then, slowly, carefully, you reach for your phone.

You hold it up, biting your lip to suppress a gasp-laugh as you frame the shot. The click of the camera is muted, but your heart is pounding.

There is no way anyone would believe this without proof.

You take another photo.

And then another.

And just for good measure, a short video — the way Sergeant’s paw twitches in his sleep, the way Bucky unconsciously shifts closer like he’s anchoring the weight against him, like he wants it there.

You lean against the doorway, blinking hard.

Bucky stirs, blinking up at you with sleep-rubbed eyes. His gaze flicks down, then back up, confusion written all over his face.

“Uh… what the—”

You hold up your phone, grinning as you make your way over to the couch. “Care to explain this, Sergeant’s Majesty?”

He glances down at Sergeant, still curled on his chest like a furry little king, and then back at you.

Bucky’s lips twitch into a sleepy smile. “Guess he finally decided I’m not too bad.”

Sergeant lets out a soft snore, stretching his paws lazily.

You shake your head, still grinning. “Looks like you two made a truce. I’m just glad one of you finally got some sleep.”

Bucky reaches up, pulling you down for a slow, warm kiss.

“Best night I’ve had in a while,” he murmurs.

And as Sergeant settles in deeper, a gentle weight and steady heartbeat beneath you both, you realize this is just the beginning of a little family made of bruised hearts and soft fur.

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

Did I cry while writing this? maybe...

No, but I genuinely smiled so hard writing this that my cheeks hurt.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are all greatly appreciated!!✨🩷

@sflame15-blog

[kingkaisen]

PLEASE do a one shot where gojo and reader announce the pregnancy to the whole family i beg

DOUBLE TROUBLE ୨୧

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Last year, you & your husband, Satoru, adopted two of his teenage students, Yuji & Megumi. You also have a biological five-year-old girl, and now? You’re pregnant with twins! How does your chaotic family handle your pregnancy & two new members of the family?

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || contains fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst. pregnancy & birth, fem reader, canonverse, brief mentions of depression & suicidal thoughts, feral/protective gojo, “uncle” nanami, brief “aunt” shoko, & “uncle” geto, gojo being the best dad and husband ever!

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: . . . 14k :)

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn't necessary. also, i apologize for any inaccuracies regarding pregnancy/labor! || artwork by @/3-aem, ribbon dividers by @/cursed-carmine!

THE NEWS

“We’re homeee!”

The double front doors shut with a gentle slam, and in walked Yuji with Megumi lingering behind him.

“Mom? Dad?” Yuji called out yet again, darting his eyes around the big foyer for any sign of life — the sound of you whipping together an afternoon snack, the excited ramblings belonging to their little sister — your biological daughter — Maya, or Satoru’s heavy, yet comforting footsteps making their way down the hall; the usual noises they came home to.

“Momma?” Yuji tried once more. Stepping further into the foyer, he leaned down to take off his red shoes. “Anybody home?”

“I think it’s just us,” Megumi, who too started to remove his shoes, spoke up. Was it out of worried curiosity, or was he simply tired of hearing Yuji shout? The truth was unclear. 

But he did know one thing.

He, for the most part, was a well-behaved teenager. Rarely did he ever find himself in trouble, and when those all-too-rare moments occurred, it was usually because he was wandering the streets too late at night, failed to check in on time during his missions, or he got lost in his latest nonfiction book while at the park — and thus, didn’t realize that the afternoon sunlight was no longer illuminating the pages of Of Wolves and Men by Barry Lopez, but the moon and nearby streetlight were. 

Those days, he would always arrive home, later than promised, and he’d hear the hurried footsteps coming from the warmly lit living room all before being met with the worried frowns that belonged to you and Satoru. One of the many purposes behind the Gojo household’s group chat was for those unfavorable scenarios. While it served as a form of family communication for good morning texts, chore reminders, last-minute items to add to the grocery list, and any silly videos Yuji or Satoru wanted to send, the main purpose it served was as a check-in. 

“You’re teenagers. You guys are very independent, and up until now, you never needed to let anyone know your whereabouts. I get it. And I don’t care if you guys wanna, I don’t know, catch a movie after running an errand or something like that. All I ask is that you send a text message to the family group chat so we don’t worry, okay?”

Those were the words you spoke to Megumi and Yuji during the week following their adoption. 

Megumi couldn’t quite believe that had happened a year ago. A year.

And he didn’t understand it at the time. The protectiveness. But, either way, he knew just how much it mattered to you.

It wasn’t a one-sided expectation either. You and Satoru also took the time to alert him and Yuji whenever an unplanned circumstance occurred.

That was what initially led to a wave of worry washing over Megumi, because as Yuji started to walk through the house, calling for you, Megumi pulled his phone out of his pocket.

His lock screen only held seven notifications: a reminder to take his antidepressants, two text messages from Maki, three text messages exchanged between Nobara and Yuji in their class group chat, and a photo Satoru sent to the family group chat of Maya’s dinosaur painting from school; a photo that was sent hours ago.

There was nothing that explained your current absence. 

Yuji returned to the foyer as Megumi tried to refresh his messages and double-check his wifi connection. 

“They’re not here,” Yuji, who leaned against the wall, let the corners of his mouth fall into a small frown. 

“They didn’t send a text either,” Megumi glanced up from his phone. “I know they’re alright, but-”

“But it’s weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Megumi replied, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his school uniform.

“Mom and dad have been acting weird lately in general if you ask me,” as Yuji spoke, he pulled out his own phone, checking his lock screen — which was a picture of the entire family, along with Nobara, at a baseball game — and his frown deepened at the sight of no new text messages. Megumi was right.

“I’m gonna call ‘em,” Yuji shrugged, strands of his pinkish hair tickling his forehead. “Can’t hurt.”

Yuji dialed the number under your contact and put the phone on speaker. The two boys listened in a thick silence as the phone rang four times. Just as another wave of worry was about to make Megumi fidget with his hands, the ringing was abruptly cut off.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Mom!” Yuji’s eyebrows shot up, and Megumi moved closer towards the phone. Alas, they knew you were just fine.

“That’s me,” You joked, but then, with all the care and worry of a mother that you held in your heart, you softly asked, “Is everything alright, honey?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, it’s just that, uh, we’re home and you guys aren’t here. You didn’t send a message either. Where are you?”

“Hold on one second.” The boys heard you pull away from the phone. Then, they heard a sudden, faint shout. “Satoru! Our kids are worried about us!”

“See? Told you they liked us,” Satoru’s voice came through the phone speaker, distant, but ever-present.

“Huh? Was that even a real concern? Same kids who panic when you have a small cold, here.” Yuji paused. “Where’d you guys go, anyway?”

“We’re in the backyard.”

With a blink, Yuji darted his brown eyes up at his glaring brother. “Ohhh.”

“You idiot, you didn’t check the backyard?” Megumi’s hand met his forehead, and he closed his eyes in utter disbelief.

“I forgot about it!”

—♡ —

When Satoru was young, he didn’t enjoy relaxing in the grass and daydreaming about his future. There was too much chaos going on in the present, in his opinion. However, when the overconfident teenager with messy white hair, blacked out sunglasses and a foolish grin imagined his future now and then, he pictured himself living in the city, surrounded by wild people, alcoholic beverages, and the finest decor that represented both his unique taste and astonishing wealth. 

Those rotten daydreams were a direct result of how he was raised — not as a person, but as a god.

Then, one day, he met you.

That overconfident teenager with messy white hair, blacked out sunglasses, and a foolish grin walked into his first class at Jujutsu High School, and he saw the most stunning girl — he was certain he had overused his Six Eyes, and his otherworldly perception of his surroundings was skewed, but no. That wasn’t the case. 

You were truly that stunning.

You turned your head, facing the fellow first year standing in the doorway from where you sat in the first row of the majorly empty classroom, and you smiled at him.

It was a shy, friendly grin.

But oh, that was enough.

The Satoru Gojo was no longer a god. He was a blushing fool, one who tripped over his own feet when he tried to take a step forward, one whose throat dried to a crisp when he tried to say hi, and a pathetic squeak came out instead. 

His dreams changed then. When that stumbling teenager with sweaty white hair, crooked sunglasses, and a flushed face imagined his future, he pictured himself living in a house big enough for the enormous family he wanted to have some day, surrounded by his loved ones, the gifts he would adorn them with, and photographs of his big, big family at festivals, birthday parties, and holiday gatherings hung upon the walls.

That was why, currently, Satoru grinned as he flipped over a steak on his grill, watching as his two boys emerged from the back door. To his left, Maya was creating a Magical Meal composed of grass, dirt, sticks, leaves, and whatever else she could find in the backyard. To his right, you were relaxing on the outdoor sofa in the patio area, sipping on water with one hand, and holding a novel with the other.

It was a dream come true.

“What’s going on? Is it someone’s birthday?” The question came from Yuji, who collapsed onto the empty, light blue sofa cushion beside you. 

“Nope. Your mother and I just have some pretty big news,” Satoru paused, flipping another steak. “How was school and the movies? Kill any curses today?”

“You’d know if you were there,” Megumi said. “Does you taking the day off have anything to do with the big news?”

“Sure does.”

“I’m not sure I wanna know what it is.”

“Sure you do.”

“When are you guys gonna tell us?” Yuji darted his eyes back and forth between you and the man standing over the grill. “I hate waiting for big news!”

“We’re gonna tell you as soon as dinner’s ready,” you replied with the tone of someone cool, calm, and collected, as if this wasn’t something that made your palms sweat. As if.

Suddenly, Megumi felt something tug on his school uniform. He glanced down to see Maya staring up at him.

“Hm?”

“Can you help me with my-with the homework? Pleaseee?” The five-year-old frowned, though it wasn’t necessary. When you or Satoru were busy, or she simply wanted to spend time with her brother, she would always ask him for homework help, and he would always say yes.

“You know I will. Do you want to go inside or stay out here?” Megumi questioned with a soft smile.

“Muffin, you already finished your homework, remember?” Satoru chimed in, and the little girl pouted as a result.

She adored homework. Homework, in her eyes, was extra bonding time with whichever family member she picked. It was true she finished her assignment about numbers with her dad when she came home from school, but right now, she wanted to color with Megumi. 

“We can color after dinner, if you want.” Megumi offered — he was smart in that way.

Suddenly, Maya’s pout changed into a bright smile. “Okay!”

“Take her inside,” You spoke up. “You all need to go wash up and set the table. I gotta talk to your dad about something.”

Two teenagers and the little girl offered their share of curious gazes, but they shoved that confusion down, temporarily satisfied with the promise of hearing the Big News! later on, and they made their way back into the house.

Once they were out of sight, you got off the outdoor sofa, put your water and book down on the edge of the unlit fire pit, and walked over to your cooking husband.

“Before you ask, yes, I’m giving you the biggest piece. No, I won’t let you switch with me, and yes, I'm cooking it to the safest temperature.” Satoru grinned, but when he turned his head and noticed your face didn’t share the same grin as his own, he asked, “What’s on your mind, baby? Don’t be nervous.”

“Useless advice,” you mumbled. “Why are we doing this? Making a big, nice dinner to deliver news they might not be too happy about?”

“They will be, I promise. I’m sure they’ll be shocked, but they’re not going to raise hell like you think they will.” 

“It’s Maya and Megumi I’m worried about. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but I just . . .” Your words trailed off into nothing, the sizzling steaks filling the silence, but that was fine. No other words were needed. After all, this was, indeed, a conversation you had a thousand times.

Satoru figured that, maybe, you’d start to accept his words if they were said a thousand and one times.

“Muffin loves people. Remember how happy she was when Megumi and Yuji joined the family? It’ll be no different than that. As for Megumi, we’ll do whatever it takes to show him that adding new members to the family doesn’t mean we’re taking members away.” Satoru held his arm out. “Come here. Come on.”

With a little frown, you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“You have the cutest frown in the world, you know that? I hate when you’re frowning, of course, but it’s so cute.” He kissed you yet again. “You’re just so cute, what the hell.”

“Stop it,” A smile now replaced your frown, and when you put a bit of distance between your body and his, he took advantage of it by pressing his soft lips against your forehead, nose, and cheek. 

“Sir, your behavior is the reason I’m pregnant now.”

“Your cuteness is the reason you’re pregnant now.” Another kiss. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up pregnant again after this, just saying.”

“Like hell,” you giggled, and the very lips that released that soft laugh? They were kissed as well.

—♡ —

Megumi and Yuji hovered over the dining room table. The dark-haired boy gently set out the plates in everyone’s desired seat, meanwhile, Yuji laid out the napkins and silverware.

“Hey,” Megumi interrupted the comfortable silence, grabbing a plate from the stack in his hand and setting it down in your spot. “When they mentioned the news they wanted to tell us, did they say it was good news?”

“Huh?” Yuji looked up from where he stood at the other end of the table. “Uhh, I think they only mentioned it being big news. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

What a lie. Yuji wasn’t as observant as Megumi was when it came to certain things. He didn’t know that Maya — who was currently in the bathroom washing her hands — used the term homework to sometimes “trick” her family members into playing with her, for example.

But Yuji knew Megumi quite well. And right now, he could see his pinched brows and downward-pointed lips, as if a cloud of worry was forming over his head. 

“So, how’re you feeling lately?” Yuji asked, his eyes on Megumi, though his hands were placing forks and knives on the table. “Ya know, the meds, the therapy, the psychia-”

“Don’t talk about it.”

“Why not? There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m in therapy too, ya know.”

“Your care plan isn’t as intense as mine.”

“Well, is your care plan helping?” Yuji tried yet again. This time, he was the one with the cloud of worry forming over his head.

“I don’t know. I think so,” Megumi shrugged. It wasn’t a lie, either. Some days, he wanted to rewind time and stop his comrades from intervening whenever a curse came close to ending his life. Other days, he smiled as he defeated his entire family in a game of trivia and ate a few handfuls of your homemade trail mix. But most days, he felt like a zombie. As if moods and emotions were beneath him, or rather, out of his reach. 

“Is therapy helping you?” Megumi asked.

“Yeah. Feels nice to have someone to talk to without them getting all worried and stuff, ya know? I can see how stressed mom and dad get when I talk about all this vessel mess,” with a smile, Yuji set down the last of the silverware. “Ya know, there are some things only you and I can understand. I probably can’t give you the world’s greatest advice, but if you ever wanna talk to me, you can.” 

Yuji started to walk towards the nearest bathroom. Before he was completely out of Megumi’s line of sight, Yuji paused, glanced back with that familiar smile, and said, “Love you!”

—♡ —

Dinner time occurred fifteen minutes later. Your family sat around the table packed to the brim with grilled steak, steamed rice, roasted brussels sprouts and asparagus, and hot miso soup. The tantalizing aroma from the delicious food certainly caught Yuji’s attention, but the anticipation of hearing your big news made him keep his eyes on you rather than the steaming dishes sitting in the center of the table. 

It was as if your back leaning against your dining room chair was an activation switch.

“What’s the news?” Yuji was practically bouncing in his seat. 

Maya, following her older brother’s lead, said with a giggle, “What’s the news? What’s the news?”

“News? What news?” You gave them a playfully sly smile. Then, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh! Satoru, we forgot the donuts and tea.”

Donuts and tea? Megumi thought.

He watched as you and Satoru left the dining room like sneaky little kids, whispering among yourselves.

Satoru returned moments later with a small tray of donuts. 

“Ooo, pink and blue!” Maya’s eyes glistened at the sight of the colorful desserts being placed on the table.

You returned with mugs, sitting them down in front of each family member before retreating yet again, only to return with the hot container of herbal tea — and a lukewarm cup of tea for Maya.

“Here’s some tea to help with digestion,” you said, pouring the soothing beverage into everyone’s mugs.

“No juice, mommy? I love, love, love, love juice.” Maya asked.

“No, no juice this close to your bedtime.”

“Okayyy.”

You sat down once again. Satoru reached for a particularly large steak and put it on your plate, and just like that, the family began passing around the prepared food, portioning out however much they desired. 

Fifteen minutes of dining and polite conversation went on. The subjects drifted between the film Megumi and Yuji saw earlier that day — Megumi liked it, Yuji thought it was a little drawn out — vague dreams of a big family vacation within the next year or so; simple chatter. 

Maya was the one who interrupted the simple chatter. Her eyes were fixated on the little mug in her hands, or rather, what was written on the front of it.

“Sss . . . suh-is-ter . . . of . . . of . . . fa-or.”

“Whatcha reading? Let me help.” Yuji leaned over, glancing at the mug.

“Sister of four,” he read, then tilted his head a bit in confusion. He looked over across the table at you. “Momma, did you read the mug before you bought it?”

“Hm, I can’t remember,” your voice was sugary-sweet with false innocence. “I wonder if they all say something.”

Those words led to Megumi and Yuji grabbing their mugs. As they read in silence, Satoru sneakily grinned at you, reached over, and squeezed your hand.

“Mine says brother of four,” Yuji said.

“Mine too,” Megumi added, putting his mug down and taking a spoonful of soup.

“Dad, what does your mug say?”

Satoru didn’t answer Yuji’s question. Not with words, at least. Instead, the man raised his mug, taking a slow, suspicious sip. 

“Awesome father of five,” the boys read in unison.

“Hers says loving mother of five,” Megumi’s eyes trailed the words along your mug.

For a while, the boys sat in silence . . . thinking, thinking, and thinking . . .

Yuji started to cough, nearly choking on the tea he was sipping on.

“You’re pregnant?!” He exclaimed in between coughs, his face going red, his eyes going wide. “With twins?”

“Wait, seriously?” Megumi leaned forward, his eyebrows almost shooting up into his hairline. 

Duh. Of course. Of course!

“Took you boys long enough to piece it together!” You couldn’t help but erupt into laughter, holding Satoru’s hand as he too joined in on your joyous fit.

“Hmm?” Maya blinked.

Satoru rose out of his seat, walked over to where his little girl sat, and kneeled.

“Your mommy and I are giving you a couple more siblings, Muffin,” his long fingers tickled her tummy, and she shrieked, giggling wildly as he spoke. “You ready to be a big sister, sweet girl?”

As it often did, a round of tickling turned into a game of chase. Maya hopped out of her chair, continuously laughing all the while, and Satoru trailed behind the running girl — not using his full speed, of course — and together, they played in the living room.

“The donuts . . . You’re having a boy and a girl?” Megumi asked. 

His expression, once the initial shock wore off, was unreadable. He was as blank as a new canvas.

 You tried. You tried to place meaning behind the blank stare, the stilled lips, the straightened brows . . . but there was nothing. Nothing.

“A boy and a girl, that’s right,” you said.

Yuji was on his feet. He held his arms out, and you grinned, standing and opening your arms.

“Congratulations! This is huge! How far along are you? Have you come up with any names yet? Can they hear me talking?” The rambling boy hugged you more gently than he normally would.  After letting go, he leaned down a bit, pressing his ear against your stomach first. He wasn’t very satisfied with the silence. Suddenly, he shouted, “Hellooo! This is Yuji, your older brother!”

“You’re too much,” You ruffled his pinkish hair, but your smile faded into a more stern look. 

“So, boys, how do you feel about this?” You asked, grabbing a seat near the two of them, and Yuji, who knew that stern look meant that it was time to get serious, sat back down in his chair. “I know things tend to get pretty chaotic around here sometimes and, well, having twins won’t make that any easier. I know you both tend to think that your wants and needs come second to everyone else’s just because we adopted you both a little over a year ago, and I know I’ve shown you both how that is completely, one hundred percent untrue. Having twins won’t change that, okay? You two are just as important as these two. And Maya, of course. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

The eager response came from Yuji. Megumi took a tentative sip of his tea.

“Megumi?” You called out, raising your brows.

He gave a small nod, then, that blank, fresh canvas-like face of his met yours.

“Congratulations,” he said.

—♡ —

That next morning, your eyelids fluttered open to the ding of your phone. You reached over as best as you could with your husband clinging to you like a needy koala, and you grabbed your device off your nightstand. Blinking away the last bit of sleepiness was a chore. But, eventually, your vision cleared up enough for you to make out your most recent notification.

Megumi had sent a text message to the family group chat.

Megumi: I’m going for a walk. Be back soon.

A walk? A morning walk?

Your eyes flickered up to the time displayed in the corner of your screen. It was so early, the sun hadn’t yet fully risen. 

Before Megumi’s depression kept him bedbound until noon, he was an early bird, often awake before or at the same time as you, making his way around the house unintentionally as quiet as a mouse.

Therefore, you would have been happy to know that he was, once again, rising with the sun. But this? This created a wave of worry that washed over you until you pressed the back of your hand against your forehead.

“Satoru?” You rocked your body against your husband. “Wake up.”

He groaned, pulling you closer, albeit gently, still aware of your delicate condition even amidst his sleep. “Wake up,” you tried once again.

“Hmm?” With a yawn, Satoru rubbed his eye. The messy strands of his white hair were going every which way.

“Megumi’s going for a walk,” you whispered.

“Good for him. I love exercise.”

“No, not good. This isn’t like him. He’s upset. He’s upset about the twins. I knew it. I told you.” 

The sheer, slight panic in your voice knocked out the last bit of sleepiness dancing around within Satoru.

“Want me to rush and try to catch up with him?”

“No,” you mumbled. “If he is upset, a walk is the best thing for him, right?”

Satoru leaned forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Do you ever worry about me and the little things I do this much?” 

“Nope. You’re easy to read. You have a very expressive face. When your eyebrow twitches, I know you’re hungry. When you frown, I know you want my attention. Plus, you’re just gonna tell me whatever is bothering you immediately. I never have the luxury of worrying about you.” This time, it was your turn to lean forward, and you kissed his forehead as best as you could with his messy white hair acting as a barrier. “I’m gonna wash up and get started on breakfast. I want to surprise Yuji with those soufflé pancakes he likes. Make Megumi some black coffee, fresh juice for Maya too.”

“Your favorite fruit chopper is on his way,” Satoru yawned and rolled over onto his back.

—♡ —

Breakfast was served. A beautiful display of food crowded the breakfast nook in the kitchen, earning a heartfelt, “Wow! This is the kinda breakfast you see in movies!” from Yuji.

While he and Maya were in the kitchen, enjoying their meal, you were straightening out the pillows on one of the living room couches with Satoru. 

A figure appeared.

You glanced up and smiled at the sight of Megumi.

“Megumi, you're back! How was your walk?”

“It was fine,” he said.

But there was something more. His eyes . . . they darted away from you. 

“What is it, buddy?” Satoru asked him. He noticed his son’s strange, distant gaze as well.

Megumi stepped away.

He then returned with a large box in his arms.

“Here. I got this for you.”

Satoru hovered over you as you reached for the box.

What now rested in your arms was a soft, curved, dark blue, pregnancy pillow. 

You wanted to say a lot of things; he didn’t have to spend his money like this. How big of a surprise this was. How much you absolutely adored him.

But all you could do was stand there in shock, letting the hot tears start to brim in your waterline.

“You’re gonna make her cry,” Satoru smiled at the teenager as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“Oh, hush. Leave me alone. I can cry if I want to,” With a sniffle, you said, “thank you, Megumi!”

“You’re welcome. You’re a great mom. And you’re a great dad.”

“Stop, now I’m gonna cry,” Satoru turned his head, but he couldn’t fight off the grin upon his face, nor did he want to.

“Can we hug you?” You asked Megumi.

“Sure.”

After setting the box down, you and Satoru wrapped your arms around him. You released a heavy sigh, feeling the burden of worry finally ease off your shoulders.

—♡ —

THE BABY SHOWER

The friends and family of you and Satoru were hardly surprised by the . . . odd traditions and ideas Satoru implemented into his life after traveling to various continents as a hard-working sorcerer. 

That was why walking into a baby shower venue, one that looked more like a modern museum, was a shock to no one.

Only the best for Mrs. Gojo.

It was a little ways into the evening, sometime after everyone had been fed, marveled over how Maya was getting taller, and before presents were to be presented to you, and Satoru was chatting with Utahime when he felt someone tap his arm. He turned around, grinning, as he faced Maki and Yuta.

“Congratulations,” Maki said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, congrats! We’re happy for you,” Yuta smiled as well, his smile noticeably brighter.

“Hey, thanks, you two, and thanks for coming.” Satoru’s large hand landed on Yuta’s head, and he ruffled his hair.

“Free food,” Maki shrugged, but in truth, she adored you — everyone did.

“Have as much as you want. My future unpaid babysitters should enjoy the baby shower, right?”

Satoru walked off then with a sly grin, shoes clanking against the floor as he ignored Maki’s shouts of protest. 

Kento Nanami was standing near the colorful arrangement of balloons nearest the buffet. The well-dressed man was replenishing his cup of lemonade, and as Satoru strolled over, he could hear his loud son, Yuji, chatting with his relatives; both real ones, and those who were simply friends of the family, but were close enough to earn the honorable title of aunt, uncle, or cousin.

“Kento! It’s been a while!” Satoru slung his arm over the unsuspecting man’s shoulder, but that composed man didn’t jump, flinch, or appear startled in any way. 

He only adjusted his glasses and said, “Indeed it has. Congratulations, Satoru. I’m happy for you.”

“Hey, congrats to you as well, you’re getting another niece and nephew.”

“Uncle Kento, huh? What an honor.”

“One Muffin bestowed upon you and the rest of my friends. She’s always running around asking for Uncle Kento, Aunt Shoko, and the like.” Satoru removed his arm from around Kento’s shoulder. “You’d make an amazing father, you know that, right?”

“Babysitting your kids has been and will be enough for me,” Kento took a sip of his lemonade. “Besides, I don’t know if I could bring kids into . . . Sorry. I didn’t mean to judge you.”

Much like how Kento’s composure didn’t falter when Satoru surprised him, Satoru’s pleasant grin didn’t twitch. 

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re not wrong, either. I always thought it was selfish to bring kids into a world filled with curses and curse users, but,” Satoru’s hand was on Kento’s shoulder, and he turned the man around until they were both facing the swarm of chatting guests, and Satoru pointed to you, the one person among the crowd who glistened brighter than the lights, stars and moon themed decorations within the baby shower venue. “Seeing that amazing, beautiful woman over there carry my child, and holding that child for the very first time . . . It’s turned me into a selfish man.”

Kento turned back around to face Satoru. A whisper of a grin appeared on his face.

“One could argue that you’re doing the world a favor. Your children will undoubtedly grow up to become the strongest sorcerers. They could save many lives someday,” Kento said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. If they wanna fight curses, I won’t stop them. But if they wanna make music, flip burgers, sell houses, or whatever, then that’s fine with me.”

“You’re hoping for the latter.” 

“Of course I am.” Only then did Satoru’s smile start to fade. “The last thing I want is for my muffin to experience the things Yuji and Megumi have. I can barely keep it together when she cries. How am I supposed to handle her coming home someday, scraped up or worse?” 

“You speak as if you won’t be right by her side.”

“I can’t always be there. I told you about the time the school took advantage of my absence and sent Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara off on a mission they weren’t ready for, right? The one at the detention center? And that curse turned out to be a special grade?” 

Kento glanced up at the ceiling covered in glistening starlike lights for a brief moment, thinking. Then, his eyes locked with Satoru’s. “Right, I remember. Nobara and Megumi got hurt, and Yuji, well, died.”

Satoru nodded. “They were just my students back then, but even then, I was ready to kill all the higher-ups. I can’t imagine the person I’ll become if something else like that happened to any of my kids. I mean, you’re telling me my sweet girl’s next? In a decade, Muffin will be going to Jujutsu High?”

This time, it was Kento’s turn to place his arm around Satoru.

What an odd act, coming from him. Satoru was certain Kento would only ever initiate physical touch when he was in his casket, and Kento would lightly tap his hand or shoulder as a way of saying goodbye.

For Kento’s arm to rest around Satoru’s shoulder now? Well, the other man’s face must have shown a great deal of borrowed grief from the future.

“You’re not the kind of person to start stressing out about things that have yet to happen,” The blonde-haired man’s voice was soothing. Like a comforting hug. “And you shouldn’t stress out about it tonight. I’ll . . . finally let you come to my house and vent about it all later this week if you aren’t busy. Just promise me you won’t let it get to you right now. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

And, like it often did, that familiar, Satoru Gojo Grin reappeared on his face. “Kento, Kento, remember who you’re talking to. I know how to be stressed out and have fun. Keeps things exciting, ya know?”

“I don’t.”

At the front of the museum-like venue, there was a stage. It was home to the giant crescent moon decoration that brought tears to your eyes — you blamed the pregnancy hormones, but in truth, it was just that gorgeous — and right now, that stage was home to Satoru as he stood on it, microphone in hand.

The chatter and music died down, and your husband started to speak.

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming to our baby shower. It means the world to me, my wife, and our kids. We’re about to start opening gifts, but first, there’s something I wanna show everyone. Most of you might remember this video from our wedding, or from my little muffin’s baby shower, but there are some new faces here. And the old faces are just gonna have to put up with it again, ‘cause this woman right here,” Satoru hopped off the stage. A spotlight followed him as he approached you, leaned down, and gazed at you with a passion so obvious, the hearts of your guests melted at the sight of love they witnessed. “I’m madly in love with her, I’d die for her, and I’m lucky enough to be the man she decided to marry and have kids with. I’m grateful. This video means the world to us, because if it weren’t for the events that happened on this day, there’s a chance none of us would be celebrating the arrival of two new family members right now. So, watch it, or else none of you are coming to Yuji’s future wedding.”

Gentle laughter broke out among the guests. Just above the stage, a projector screen came to life. The old video started with Satoru resting his head on his school desk.

Upon seeing the italicized date in the corner, Shoko, who then locked eyes with Satoru, gave him a soft, knowing smile.

—♡ —

JUJUTSU HIGH SCHOOL — 2006

“Why’re you recording me? Can’t you see I’m crying? You think this is funny?”

The second-year student glanced up at the camera in front of his tear-soaked face. His blacked-out sunglasses had fallen off his desk and tumbled to the floor, and his teary, blue eyes darted between his two best friends.

“You’re the one who talked up a big game. Now hurry before you miss your shot.” Suguru said from behind the camera. He was the one recording Satoru’s all-too-rare meltdown, and he zoomed in on the special-grade sorcerer’s face.

“Shoko, can’t you ask her for me? Pleaseee?” Satoru, who sat backwards in his chair, ran his fingers through his messy white hair.

Suguru turned his camera towards Shoko. The teenage girl rolled her eyes.

“Kinda pathetic to get someone else to ask. If I were her, I’d say no because you didn’t have the courage to ask me directly,” she said.

“Oh my god,” Satoru hid his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die, I swear I am.”

Suguru’s camera picked up the sight of you at the front of the classroom, quietly sitting at your desk, jotting down the last few bullet points written by your teacher on the green chalkboard.

Then, Satoru’s flushed, wet face came into view once again.

“Are you seriously crying?” Shoko asked, stifling a giggle.

“Leave me alone, I’m nervous, okay? I swear I’m gonna throw up. Do you see how pretty she is? And she’s so strong, too. Her smile is-is just . . .” dramatically, Satoru sprawled out across the desk in front of him, sniffling. “Guys, what if she says no?”

“What if she says yes?” Suguru said. “Clocks ticking, Satoru. Karaoke night is tonight and school’s about to let out. If you don’t ask her now, you won’t get another shot.”

“Can’t we reschedule?”

“Why? So you can panic and cry again later?”

Satoru whined, raised his head again for a moment, then rested the side of his head on Suguru’s desk — tried to, at least. In truth, he just ended up smacking his head. 

Shoko suddenly came into view, her short brown hair dangling. She leaned close to the camera, and whispered, “What’s really pathetic is that he killed special-grade curses yesterday all while talking on the phone, and now he’s crying because he can’t ask a girl out on a date. Weird.”

“I can hear you,” Satoru mumbled. “You guys don’t get it. Every time I talk to her, all I do is stutter and embarrass myself, almost like I’m not as awesome and amazing as I think I am. What’s up with that?”

“It’s called having a crush,” the amusement in Suguru’s voice was clear. 

It made Satoru whine yet again — he was suffering. His friends found it funny, but he was suffering. Suffering!

“Yep. You are downright smitten. Poor thing,” Shoko chuckled.

Suddenly, the school bell rang.

Satoru’s head shot straight up like a dog hearing a whistle, and his blue eyes widened in pure panic.

“Shit, shit, shit, is she leaving? I’m scared to look,” Satoru said, but he turned around and looked anyway.

“I’ll stall her.” Shoko rose from her seat, speed walking to the front of the classroom where you started to gather your belongings.

Bits and pieces of the distant conversation could be heard, and well, Shoko was quite an actress.

There was a gentle thud as Suguru set the camera in his hand down on the desk. 

His body then came into view from the waist down as he pulled his nervous friend out of his seat.

“Wipe your tears,” Suguru mumbled, and straightened out Satoru’s uniform. “You can do this. You’re Satoru Gojo, aren’t you?”

“Right . . . right. I got this,” trying to make his messy hair appear neater by running his fingers through it, Satoru released a shaky breath. 

Then, he approached you.

Suguru grabbed his camera, moved up a few seats, and sat down. Shoko ended the improvised conversation with you and grabbed the seat of the empty desk beside Suguru. 

Suguru zoomed in on the scene that unfolded before him.

“Excuse me,” Satoru tapped your shoulder. You faced him, and he mumbled, “ . . . Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hi . . .” Satoru repeated. His eyes fell to the floor, and he scratched the side of his head with his trembling hand. “So, uh, do you like music?”

“Yeah, I do, why?”

“No reason. Well, there is a reason, but it’s not important or anything.” 

“He’s blowing it,” Shoko whispered to the camera. Suguru shushed her as if his dear friend was talking during the best scene of a film.

“I take that back, it’s actually pretty important,” Satoru cleared his throat. God, he could barely look you in the eye. “Asking you out is a big deal to me, ya know? I’ve been practicing for weeks. I can’t believe I just said it wasn’t important. I can, uh, tell that I’m about to do this thing that, for some reason, only happens around you, where I get nervous and start talking a lot, so um, I-I was just wondering if you’d . . . like to go to this group date night karaoke thing . . . tonight? With me? As my date? O-On a date?” 

Everyone held their breath. Even the green leaves among the trees visible outside the classroom windows did not blow in the wind.

It was as if the world stopped spinning, and its rotation only began yet again when you laughed softly, your smile brightened, and you said, “You’re adorable. I’d love to.”

“Wait . . . wait, really?” Satoru’s eyes went wide with shock. 

The video captured a quiet, joyous shriek from Shoko.

“Yeah, it sounds fun!” You said, closing the binder on your desk. 

“O-Oh, great! Um, wait here,” Satoru sped away from you, nearly tripping over his own feet. Again.

His body blocked the camera lens, but he could be heard saying in a rushed, quiet tone, “pen and paper, pen and paper, hurry!”

 Suguru put down the camera. He and Shoko scrambled around like disoriented ants, but after a couple of seconds, Suguru handed Satoru a piece of paper, and Shoko gave him a pen. “Here!” 

Satoru leaned over a desk and started to write down his number. Suguru grabbed his camera and zoomed in on his trembling hands.

“Your hands are shaking,” Shoko mumbled.

“Not now, Shoko. Please shut up,” Satoru said, writing the last digit, and ripping off a piece of the paper.

Satoru made his way back over to you, his smile bright, cheeks and ears red.

“Here’s my number!” He handed you the tiny piece of paper.

“Okay, cool. I’ll text you when I get home.” You gave him one last smile as you gathered the rest of your belongings. You started to make your way out the door, when suddenly, you paused, turned to face him, and said, “Bye, ‘Toru!”

That was it.

That was it.

The sorcerer was on the floor.

Suguru and Shoko were on their feet, rushing towards their collapsed friend. 

The teenager on the floor came into view, and, once again, tears were streaming down his face, spilling onto the classroom floor beneath him.

“Cut the camera, I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna die. Did you hear that? Did you hear her call me ‘Toru?” Satoru tossed his arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe it. She said . . . she said yes. I’m not hallucinating, am I?”

Before either one of his friends could answer, he suddenly got off the floor. 

“Holy shit,” Satoru whispered. “I gotta go get ready!”

And with that, the man flew out of the classroom. Shoko and Suguru were quiet for a moment, hearing his quick footsteps down the hall, and then, at the same time, they erupted into heartfelt laughter.

“I’ve never seen him act like this before. Is that why you started recording?” Shoko said once the last of her giggles fluttered out of her.

“Yes. I have a good feeling about those two.”

“Wait, wait, Suguru, come look!”

Shoko made her way towards the window, and Suguru — and his camera — quickly followed.

There, they saw Satoru running out of the school.

“See that, future viewers?” Suguru said to the camera. “That’s Satoru running. My best guess is that he’s planning on stopping at any store that catches his eye for a new outfit, new cologne . . . the list goes on and on.”

Suguru then turned the camera around, his face on full display.

“If they don’t work out, I won’t share this video, but as I said, I have a good feeling. I’m thinking I’ll share this video when they go on their . . . fifth date. What do you think?” He looked at Shoko. The girl appeared behind him, joining him on the screen.

“I say whenever they become boyfriend and girlfriend. What if they fall in love and get married? They could show this video at their wedding.” Suddenly, Shoko’s eyes lit up. “Wait, I have an idea.”

She took the camera from Suguru. 

With a small wave and a smile, she started to speak to the camera — to the future viewers. “Hi there, if you’re watching this video, that means my friend, Suguru, and I, successfully predicted the future, and Mrs. Gojo is watching this. Congratulations.”

“Wait, what if they decide to show this to their children?” 

“Oh, you’re right!” Shoko raised her eyebrows at Suguru’s interjection, then gave the camera another wave. “Hi, kids. I’m your Aunt Shoko!”

“I’m Uncle Suguru,” the dark-haired teenager popped his head into the frame, waving as well.

“I predict that . . . Satoru will become a girl dad.” Shoko knocked her head against Suguru’s shoulder. “Your turn.”

“Well, I see the two of them having multiple children.” Suguru said, and with a soft smile, he added, “But to Satoru’s future children, and to the future Mrs. Gojo, we wish you the best. I hope your days are filled with love and happiness. It’s the best thing one can ask for.”

Together, the two teenagers waved at the camera. “Bye!”

—♡ —

THE BIRTH

Over the last several months, Satoru Gojo’s only mission was to kiss your round belly with every sunrise and sunset. He didn’t travel the world for special assignments only he could handle, he didn’t spend hours cooped up in the stuffy classrooms of Jujutsu High School, teaching young sorcerers the difference between cursed energy and cursed technique. 

Once you hit the nine month mark, once you were predicted to go into labor any day now, he walked into the creepy meeting room belonging to the higher ups, told them he was taking some months off to be by your side, and strolled out of there with a relaxed grin on his face, hands in his pockets, all while the old fools huffed and puffed, going on and on about how he couldn’t do such a thing — blah, blah, blah.

Satoru didn’t care.

He only cared about his family. 

Damn it all, the world itself could catch on fire and he could be the only human being with an earth-sized extinguisher, and he wouldn’t do a thing. Not if it meant leaving your side right now.

It was early in the morning when the orange, gentle sunlight peeked through the curtains of your big bedroom window, and Satoru raised your night gown and pressed two soft kisses against your belly, one for each of the children you carried in your womb; the boy-girl twins.

“Good morning princess,” Satoru ran his hand gently across one side of your belly, where he knew his baby girl was located. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you soon.”

Satoru felt a small kick against his palm. He grinned.

“Aren’t you precious? I’m glad you’re excited to meet me too.”

His hand graced your skin as he moved it to where his boy was resting.

“How’s my little prince doing this morning, hm? You’re gonna love your nursery. Your Uncle Kento and I worked hard on it.”

His boy didn’t give an energetic kick, but rather a tiny wriggle. Satoru had read online once when you were pregnant with your first child five years ago that how a baby acts in the womb is not always an indication of how they’ll act outside of it, but for some reason — call it fatherly instinct, a lucky guess, or what information he could gather with his Six Eyes based on their cursed energy fluctuations — Satoru believed he was dealing with a hyper, excitable girl, while his boy was on the quieter side. 

Your eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” Satoru grinned up at you, moving away to give you some space. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Huge. I know I say it every day, but my back is-is . . . god, it’s killing me. I’m so ready for these little ones to come out.” You suddenly swung your legs off the side of the bed, moving much faster than your husband was comfortable with.

“Easy, easy,” he said. “What can your awesome, loving husband cook you for breakfast today?”

“Guess.”

“Crepes?”

You smiled at him. “You really are an awesome, loving husband.”

—♡ —

The soft clink-clank of dishes being washed with soap and hot, running water filled the kitchen. As you grabbed the drying rag to finish off with cleaning the plate that held your crepes, Maya, who too finished her breakfast, approached you with a curious, childlike gaze.

“When will the twins come out, mommy?”

“Any day now. Are you excited?”

“Uh-huh! I get a . . . a new sister and a new brother!”

“That’s right. It’s gonna be a full house.”

Megumi had awakened a while ago. He walked into the kitchen with an empty mug in hand, as he had finished his morning cup of black coffee.

“Do you want my breakfast?” He asked you.

“Of course not. There’s plenty for everyone, and you know you need to eat something with your meds. I don’t want you to get a stomach ache,” you said, moving out of the way so he could make his way to the sink — his favorite mug was much too precious to go in the dishwasher.

“You need the extra food more than I do. Besides, I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

“We know. Your dad cooked you something else. Your breakfast is in that pot on the stove.” 

Megumi didn’t respond. But, he truly didn’t get the chance to, as Yuji appeared in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Momma!” He greeted excitedly. Talk about being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Good morning, Yuji. How in the world do you wake up with so much energy?”

Yuji pulled away from the gentle hug. “Hmm, well, you could go into labor any day now, so I’ve been pretty excited lately. But I’m always excited about, well, everything.” He continued, “Feel alright today?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, and Maya suddenly grabbed your hand, wanting to hold it. You smiled, stroking her soft skin with your fingers. Then, you refocused your attention on Megumi, who was washing his mug, and Yuji, who was opening the fridge. “So, boys, your ride will be here soon to pick you up and drop you off at school. I’m going with your dad when he takes Maya to school so we can buy the last of what we need before I give birth, and I need-”

You heard footsteps. They didn’t belong to Satoru — you knew what his footsteps sounded like. You whipped your head around, and in the archway of your kitchen stood Kento.

“Kento? When’d you get here?” You asked in pure surprise.

“Uncle Kento!” Maya exclaimed, running up to Kento and holding her arms out for a hug.

“Look at you, Maya. You’re getting taller every day.” The man kneeled, hugging the young girl. Afterwards, he looked your way. “Good morning, I just got here. Satoru called and said you need someone to sort through and put away some supplies. I thought you knew, or else I would have knocked. Sorry for startling you.”

“It’s fine. I gave you a house key for a reason,” you smiled. “But I can’t ask that of you, Kento. It’s my fault I’m so behind with preparations.”

“Well, I’m not letting you tell me no. You have three kids and two more on the way, and to say you have a busy family is an understatement. No one blames you for falling behind. There's going to be a full house here soon enough, and there’s nothing wrong with your family needing a little outside help.” 

“That’s what mommy just said! Full house!”

Maya spread her hands wide.

“And your mom is right,” Kento said. “Anyway, your children call me Uncle Kento for a reason, don’t they? Even this one right here,” Kento nodded towards Yuji, who gave him a smile in return. “I need to show I’m worthy of that title.”

“Well, fine. But sit down and have some breakfast, at least. And I’m not letting you tell me no.”

Kento knew better than to go back and forth with you, Mrs. Gojo, when it came to your policy: everyone who walks through your front door will be fed.

Satoru appeared in the kitchen next. He dangled his car keys at you and smiled down at Maya. “Alright, you two. Time to go.” 

—♡ —

On ordinary days, you and Maya would stroll down the sunlit streets as a means of transportation, as her school was close enough for you to walk with the young girl, hand-in-hand. 

While Satoru would have gladly walked Maya to school, the two of you had last-minute errands to run, and that led to him pulling his car into the parking lot of the white and brown building instead.

“I’ll walk her in. You can clean off the black mark on the back window. It’s driving me crazy,” you said.

You unbuckled your seatbelt. Satoru exchanged loving goodbyes and a couple of tickles with Maya and grabbed the car cleaner and rag he kept in his truck. You strolled across the parking lot and up to the front door of the building with your girl by your side, and she played with the straps of her backpack.

That was when a strange, suited man standing outside the see-through front doors spoke to you.

“Good morning.” 

“Good morning. Excuse us,” you replied. You gave him a stranger-friendly smile and went to grab the door handle, but he didn’t move.

“Wait a second, Mrs. Gojo,” the man was fast. His hand gripped your elbow. He pulled you a little ways back to halt your footsteps. Instinctively, you grabbed Maya’s hand. She frowned with great worry, pressing herself as close to you as she could get.

The man’s grip tightened. “You are Mrs. Gojo, correct? And this is your little girl, Maya?”

“What are you doing? Don’t touch me-” 

Another hand appeared, this one familiar. It wrapped around the strange man’s wrist, squeezing, squeezing, and squeezing, until he let go of your elbow.

“Hey, back the hell away from my wife and my kid.” 

A shaky breath of pure relief escaped from you at the sight of your husband. Without wasting another second, you took your daughter inside the school and walked her to her class.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s grip on the strange man’s wrist only tightened. 

“Who the hell are you?” Satoru released his wrist, but only to take haunting steps towards the man, forcing him to walk backwards, stumbling over his own feet as his frightened eyes stared up at the tall, pissed-off sorcerer approaching him.

“Please, I didn’t mean any harm, but-” 

“But, you’re a strange man standing outside of my daughter’s school, one who knows my wife and daughter’s name. One who noticed they were alone. One who grabbed my wife’s arm.” He kept walking towards him. The man kept trying to back away. Satoru continued, the dark tone of his voice growing. “I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me who you are. One last chance . . .”

Satoru hooked his index finger around his black blindfold. He pulled it down slowly. He revealed his frightening, wide, blue eyes.

“I’m just a recruiter! Please, I didn’t mean any harm. I-I work with a group of intelligent sorcerers who oppose the teachings of the Jujutsu High School. Therefore, we’re trying to build up our own institution, a-and we would love to have your daughter as one of our students. Perhaps your wife would be interested in becoming a teacher, or-”

“My little girl is five years old,” Satoru spoke through gritted teeth.

“We understand, but being that she’s a member of the Gojo clan, she-”

“Don’t you ever show up here again. Don’t touch my wife, don’t speak to my wife, don’t look at my wife. Don’t touch my daughter, don’t speak to my daughter, don’t look at my daughter, or anyone else in my goddamn family, or I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand me?”

The strange man gulped. Droplets of sweat poured off his pale skin, almost as if he had been walking in the rain.

“Y-yes,” the man squeaked out. “My apologies, sir.”

He ran off like the devil himself was chasing him. Satoru stood in front of the school doors, waiting until the strange man was out of sight before he went into the building.

The entire situation had pissed him off. Greatly. So much so that he had to hold you and Maya close for a couple of minutes.

This wasn’t the first time the Jujutsu Society tried to push you back into the lifestyle of a sorcerer, or get their hands on his daughter.

Satoru himself was separated from his parents at a young age, training relentlessly every single day instead of playing in the warm sun. He would not let the same thing happen to his little girl.

Ever.

—♡ —

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to alarm you, but there is a man who has been staring at you for some time now. He’s two aisles over. I can stay with you while you shop if you’d like me to.”

“Oh, you’re too kind! There’s nothing to worry about, though. That’s just my husband, but thank you.”

“Oh, no problem!”

The kindhearted woman who noticed Satoru’s eyes — as he took his blindfold off for a few minutes — following your every movement walked off with a little smile. You gripped the handle of your grocery cart and hurriedly rushed over to Satoru’s aisle.

“Satoru! You’re supposed to be grabbing baby powder, not stalking me. That lady thought you were a creep!”

“What? I can’t help it. First of all, what happened this morning taught me that I need to be more protective of you, and second of all, you had that look on your face, the one you make when you’re concentrating? It’s too cute, so I gotta stare, sorry.”

Satoru tossed two containers of baby powder into your crowded cart. Sneakily, he pressed a kiss against your cheek. You rolled your eyes and started to walk off with the cart, but he could see the smile tugging at your lips.

The shelves of the pasta aisle were quite packed with a variety of different shapes.

Turning towards Satoru, you said with a playful frown, “Make yourself useful and grab those noodles on the top shelf for me.”

“I love it when you’re bossy,” he smirked, reaching for the big beige box.

“I love it when you’re quiet.”

“Ouch,” he pressed his hand against his heart as if your words were a loaded gun and a bullet was fired into his chest. “I’ll shut up in about five minutes.”

“You still have more to say?”

“Yep. So, I was thinking we could stay out all day until it’s time to pick up Maya from school. The twins will be here before we know it, and who knows when we’ll get to enjoy a nice outing together once they’re born?” Satoru paused. “After we drop off these groceries, we could get some lunch, do a little sightseeing, all that kinda stuff.”

“Sure! Let’s hurry, then!”

—♡ —

Yuji and Megumi stepped through the front doors of their home. The smell of clean laundry and freshly mopped floors hit their noses, and the sight of a spotless, glistening foyer caught their attention.

“Whoa, did Uncle Kento really clean this place up? And I thought it was pretty clean before!”

“Why do you call him that? You know he’s not your uncle,” Megumi said, reaching down to remove his shoes, and Yuji did the same.

“Some families do that kinda stuff. The kids call the friends of their parents aunt and uncle. Uncle Kento, Aunt Shoko, Aunt Jane, and so on and so on. Mom calls Nobara her niece. I think it’s just something you do when you’re close to people, so close you might as well be related, ya know? I love it. It makes me feel like I have this really, really big family.”

“But in reality, when it comes to blood, we’re all alone.”

Yuji froze.

He was used to Megumi’s rather depressing tone, but what made Yuji halt his movements amidst removing his left shoe was the wave of hurt that washed over him. I’m not all alone, Yuji thought. We’re not all alone. We have a mom, dad, siblings, distant relatives . . . right? It counts, right?

Yuji was silent for a moment, but, in a quiet voice, he mumbled, “. . . I think I understand now . . . you think family can only mean blood or marriage, huh?”

Megumi swallowed down the lump of guilt starting to form in his throat. Yuji hardly ever spoke in such a quiet tone. Only then did Megumi realize he had hurt the other boy’s feelings.

“No. In fact, the only people I’ve ever felt a familial bond with were people who weren’t related to me by blood.”

Both Megumi and Yuji rose to their feet, shoes off.

“I don’t get it. What’s the problem, then?” Yuji asked with a great, big frown.

“Be honest with me, Yuji,” Megumi’s eyes focused on the vase of flowers sitting on the table in the center of the foyer. “Do you honestly see me as your brother?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, I kinda did before we were adopted, ya know? But I take it you don’t see me that way.” As Yuji spoke, Megumi faced him. Yuji gave him a sad smile, trying to hide his hurt. “It’s fine. Maybe someday, right?”

The pink-haired boy started to walk off, but Megumi’s sudden words made him stop.

“You’ve got it all wrong. You guys are my family. That’s the problem.”

“How’s that a problem?” Yuji turned to face him, his eyes begging for answers. “You can talk to me, c’mon. I’m worried about you.”

The words that Yuji spoke to him several months ago replayed in Megumi’s mind: “I probably can’t give you the world’s greatest advice, but if you ever wanna talk to me, you can. Love you!”

“Blood or no blood,” Megumi started. “There’s just something that keeps people from staying in my life. Something always goes wrong. People leave, people die . . . and I can’t shake the feeling that the bonds I’ve formed with all of you will just cause me more pain someday, ‘cause these sorta bonds always end up hurting me in the end. It’ll turn out how it always turns out. I’ll somehow end up all alone.”

Kento appeared in the foyer then. 

“That’s the risk that comes with loving people. Especially with the kind of lives we live as sorcerers,” he looked at Megumi apologetically. “Sorry to intrude.”

“It’s fine.”

“Megumi,” Kento continued. “I can’t promise you that you won’t lose anyone else. That’s the cruel world we live in. But, I suggest you cherish the happy moments with the people you care for. There’s nothing worse than losing someone and having no memories to look back on with them, all because you shut them out, thinking it would make the inevitable easier. It only makes it worse. Trust me.”

A brief beat of silence followed Kento’s wise words. While Megumi puzzled over his words, repeating them in his head, Yuji approached the blonde-haired man and wrapped his arms around him.

“Yuji, why are you hugging me?”

“I’m creating a happy moment with my uncle.” Kento couldn’t help but smile. He hugged the boy he wholeheartedly now viewed as his nephew.

—♡ —

After a day of errands and relaxing fun, you and Satoru pulled into the driveway of your home. Outside, Megumi and Yuji were carrying empty boxes from the finished nursery to the recycling bin after eating snacks Kento prepared for them.

Upon seeing you, Satoru, and Maya emerge from the car, Yuji tossed his empty hand up. “Hey!”

Megumi waved silently.

“Hi, boys!” You waved back.

Just as you were putting your hand down, a wave of pain — a cramp-like pressure — shot through you. You hissed.

“You alright?” Satoru asked, shutting the car door after Maya climbed out of her seat.

“Yeah, just a small cramp. One of the little ones, probably.”

The three of you made your way into your home, all the while, Maya was rambling about her newest fixation after seeing the stars and moon decorations at your baby shower.

“ . . . and when the rockets go into-into space, the um, the people in the rockets see the planets too!”

“Yep, they sure can,” Satoru smiled down at her. “Do you know how many planets there are?”

“Nuh uh,”

“There are eight. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.”

“He’s wrong, Maya. There are nine. I won’t stand for any Pluto erasure, I don’t care what anyone says,” you called out, making your way into the living room. The living room was cleaner than you had left it. “Did we hire a maid?”

“No, I work for free, apparently,” Kento’s voice came from the hallway. When he stepped into the living room, you were quick to hug him. He knew quite well you would try to pay him, but he knew quite well he would also refuse to accept it.

“You did all this, Kento? Oh, thank you!”

Once you released him, Satoru took the chance to hug him as well. 

“My turn, bring it in, bring it in,” Satoru grinned.

“The Gojo family likes to give out hugs, hm?” Kento said, and he was met with soft laughter.

Satoru noticed your eyebrows were pinched in discomfort. 

“Come on, baby. You should sit down,” Satoru said, and he started to guide you towards one of the couches.

“Can someone bring me some water?” You asked.

“I’m on it. Do you need anything else? You look like you’re-”

“Oh!” Your sudden gasp of pure pain interrupted Kento. You doubled over, your hand on your stomach. “Oh god!”

“Baby? I need you to talk to me,” Satoru leaned over with you, his hand on your back. “What are you feeling?”

Your two boys rushed into the living room then.

Yuji started to say, “What’s wrong? Is she-”

You gave another shout of pain.

“Oh my god, she’s dying,” Yuji gripped his hair in pure panic.

“Yuji!” Megumi and Kento sharply called out.

“What’s wrong with mommy?” Maya, who tried to approach you until Yuji made her stop, gave a worried, little whine.

“They’re contractions,” Satoru said, his large hand rubbing your back. “Satoru,” you cried. When he looked at you, he saw it. Not the look of nervous excitement amidst the pain as the labor you had been preparing for finally started to occur, but he saw pure fear. “Satoru, they hurt more than they did with-with-”

Another shout of pain. 

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay, I’m right here,” Satoru worked hard to keep his composure. He had to. He was someone who felt the urge to faint or cry when his poor wife had a cold, but right now, he needed to be strong for you. And, damn it all, he would be. “Megumi, get Maya. Yuji, grab the hospital bag. Then get in the SUV. I didn’t buy a seven-seater for nothing.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, she’s going into labor,” Yuji said, running off in search of the bag. He had been rehearsing this moment. It was not going as smoothly as it was during his practices.

“I’ll drive,” Kento offered.

“Is-Is-Is this normal? Is it . . . is it supposed to hurt more with twins?” Your questions fluttered from between your lips in between pained groans. Your panicked eyes sought out Satoru’s, but they were hidden behind his blindfold. He knew what you wanted. What you needed. He was quick to snatch the blindfold off, headaches be damned.

“I’m gonna carry you to the SUV, okay, sweetheart? Just hang in there. Everything will be alright. I’m right here.”

The car ride was filled with your groans and shouts of pain.

“We’re almost there, baby. You’re doing so well,” Satoru stroked his thumb across your cheek with the hand that wasn’t within your grasp.

“I’m squeezing your hand, I’m sorry,” you said, breathless.

“Don’t be, I want you to squeeze it. Look at me.” Satoru lifted your chin with his fingers. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m not letting go of your hand, okay? I’m not letting go.”

—♡ —

The blinding white lights of the hospital only worsened your disoriented state. The nurses were scrambling, you were guided into a wheelchair, the painful contractions were intensifying, your family stared at you with concerned gazes — it was too much. Too much.

The doctor told you that your labor was progressing quite fast. 

Throughout the intense delivery of the twins, the only thing that kept you grounded in reality, even as droplets of sweat accumulated across your forehead, screams of agony left your throat, and the doctor and nurses encouraged you to push, was your husband.

Satoru had positioned himself behind you in the hospital bed. You were in between his legs, your back against his chest — thank god, as his familiar scent and the sound of his heartbeat soothed you just as much as his calming words did — and you squeezed his hand until his pale skin was now a shade of red, but he didn’t complain. Not once. 

“Give me another big push,” the doctor said with urgency, yet, in a calm, reassuring tone.

Another round of screams. Another round of pain. More sweat. Bright white lights.

But, as the back of your head hit Satoru’s chest out of pure exhaustion, you heard it. 

A sound that created a wave of nostalgia, one that washed over you as you recalled your first experience with this, five years ago. 

It was a cry. 

“It’s a girl!” The masked doctor exclaimed.

“Baby . . . baby, it’s our princess,” Satoru brought your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles. “It’s our little girl! You’re so goddamn amazing, god, I love you, I love you. Do you see what you just did? That was all you, sweetheart.”

“Let’s work on getting the boy out of here, Mrs. Gojo. You’re doing great.”

It hurt — damn it, it fucking hurt.

“‘Toru!” You cried. Another round of screams. Another round of pain. More sweat. Bright white lights. 

“I know, I know. I can’t even imagine, baby.” Satoru stroked the skin of your hand with his thumb. “Keep breathing. Keep squeezing my hand. I’m here for you.”

And with that, you pushed out the very last child, your baby boy. His soft cries filled the hospital room. 

—♡ —

Satoru’s baby girl was so, so tiny. She rested in his arms. A tear drop softly splattered against her forehead, and only then did Satoru realize he had started to cry. But he didn’t bother wiping away the tears streaming down his face. It was pointless. Darting his teary blue eyes between the faces of his son and daughter melted his heart, seeing the features they copied from him and the love of his life created those tears, and they would stream endlessly right now.   

“Hi, princess,” Satoru whispered to the small newborn, smiling as more tears fell. “It’s your daddy. We’re finally meeting, aren’t we? Wanna say hi to your mommy?”

The hospital room was dimly lit now, thank goodness. Your babies had been cleaned, wrapped in blankets, and at the moment, you were breastfeeding your son when Satoru walked over carefully. 

“Did you see her eyes? She has my eyes,” you gave Satoru a tired smile. “I can’t believe it. The shape . . . everything.”

Satoru sat on the side of the hospital bed.

“She looks just like you. Every detail.” He paused, leaning over a bit to lovingly gaze down at his son. “Look at our prince’s tiny white hairs. He has my nose too. Don’t you, little guy? You’re just the cutest little prince, aren’t you?”

Then, Satoru’s loving gaze met your eyes. He leaned in — careful not to squish the two newborns in between your bodies — and he kissed you.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, then gave you another quick kiss in between his words. “Are you ready for me to help you get cleaned up?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. I think I feel strong enough.”

—♡ —

“You’re okay!”

Your worried family members piled through the door of your hospital room, rushing to your side. Yuji was the first one to shout, followed by Megumi’s soft, but concerned tone.

“How do you feel?”

“Happy,” you reached out, squeezing both of their hands. “Tired, but happy.” 

Maya started to crawl up your bed, and you welcomed your firstborn with open arms, holding the young girl against your chest.

Just then, your boys held up four big gift bags — holding two each. 

“We stopped by the gift shop and bought everything in sight,” Yuji said. “You can look through it later since you’re tired.”

“You two have a couple of panic shoppers here,” Kento said, looking between you and Satoru, who was putting warm socks on your feet.

With a laugh, you said, “Thank you, boys.” 

“You ready to meet your new siblings?” Satoru asked, nodding in the direction of the two bassinets at the front of your room.

The two boys rushed over. Maya only clung to you tighter.

Megumi and Yuji’s eyes widened in unison. 

They could have sworn they were looking at the mini versions of you and Satoru.

It was quite humorous. Maya was a perfect mix. Fifty-fifty, as Yuji often described it. But the little girl in the bassinet before him was the spitting image of you, whereas Megumi was looking at a copy-and-paste of Satoru himself.

Carefully, Yuji scooped the baby girl out of the bassinet. “Hi there, remember me? I’m Yuji, the guy who spoke to you every day. I’m your older brother.” He paused, taking in her features. How astonishing. “Wow, you look just like our momma.”

“He won’t let go of my finger,” Megumi suddenly said.

He was standing over the baby boy’s bassinet and reached down to touch his tiny hand. But that tiny newborn gripped his finger with a force Megumi was certain a newborn shouldn’t have.

“I had a feeling you two would bond,” Satoru laughed. He then walked over with Maya, who wasn’t too in love with the idea of ending her snuggle session with you just yet, and he said, “Take a look, muffin.” 

Yuji leaned down a bit with the small baby in his arms.

Maya raised her eyebrows. “Ooo!”

Kento walked over then. He adjusted his glasses as he stared down at the baby boy gripping Megumi’s finger. 

“Oh, great. Another Satoru,” Kento said.

“In appearance alone,” you chimed in with a little laugh. “He’s a quiet one.”

Their boy looks like Satoru, but is as quiet as Megumi. The girl looks like her mother, but has tons of energy like Yuji. Hilarious, Kento thought. 

Around fifteen minutes later, Satoru approached your bed, his phone screen illuminating his face.

“Alright, I just ordered some sushi for you. Yes, I got the right variety. Yes, I told them no wasabi. Yes, I got your favorite drink to go with it,” he said.

“I love you,” you smiled at him, but then, your face fell into a little frown. 

“Honey, you look exhausted. Where’s your blindfold?”

It was true. His head was throbbing. Pounding as if someone was slamming a hammer against his skull. His overworked eyes were sore, and with the level of fatigue he was experiencing, he didn’t feel entirely too comfortable carrying one of his newborns right now. 

But he snatched off that blindfold so you, his panicked wife, could look into his eyes and know that you weren’t going through any of this alone. So he didn’t mind the suffering. 

Satoru simply ignored your question as he smiled, leaned across the bed, and pressed his lips against your soft cheek. “I love you more.”

—♡ —

THE AFTERMATH

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Quite often, Megumi found himself sitting on the bench at the local park, a nonfiction book — typically about animals — resting in his hands. Normally, it was just him. Him and the gentle breeze that made the leaves of the surrounding trees dance. But lately, his little brother accompanied him. 

The eight-month-old was glued to Megumi’s side from the second he was born. Perhaps, it was Megumi’s quiet nature and calming presence that the fellow quiet baby adored. It was no different than the way his hyper eight-month-old sister would giggle and babble when someone as excitable as Yuji was around.

Flipping the page of his book with his thumb, Megumi took a second to glance down at the head of the baby sitting on his lap. 

“I wonder if you’ll become an animal guy too,” Megumi mumbled. 

The baby looked up at the sound of his beloved brother’s voice. He pressed the bee-shaped toy against his lips, attempting to chew on it.

“Jegi?” The baby babbled.

Megumi smiled softly. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but okay.”

—♡ —

“Babababa . . .” 

Satoru, who sat on the floor of the playroom, grinned as his baby girl slowly crawled closer to him.

“You’re coming closer to calling me dada every single day, aren’t you?” He grabbed her gently, pulling her onto his lap. “Wanna go see your mommy? Hm? Wanna see mommy? I wanna see your mommy.”

The kitchen was alive with the sound of a knife meeting your favorite wooden cutting board. Satoru entered to see you standing over the kitchen island, slicing potatoes.

Grabbing the arm of the baby he carried, he made his little girl wave.

“Say hi,” he cooed.

Your excitable baby girl babbled at the sight of you.

“Hi my little baby,” you waved at her.

“She’s going through diapers like crazy today,” Satoru said to you, then turned his attention back to the baby, stroking her cheek with his finger. “Someone doesn’t know how expensive diapers are, hm? You know how many curses I have to kill to afford them? Too many curses, sweetheart.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” you rolled your eyes, grinning.

A figure suddenly appeared inside the kitchen — you couldn’t help but jump a bit. Though you heard him coming — you recognized Yuji’s footsteps — but just as Megumi was starting to look more and more like his biological father with every passing day, Yuji had gotten taller over the last several months. 

The sudden reminder of his height made you sneakily bite your inner cheek, as you remembered that both of your boys were close to turning eighteen, and you and Satoru had something special planned for their birthdays.

You couldn’t believe it. Around two-and-a-half years ago, you adopted them; two orphaned teenage sorcerers who needed a loving family. And now? They were almost adults.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” Yuji greeted. “You guys mind if I take her to the park with me and Maya?”

“No, not at all. We’d appreciate it,” you said. 

“Make sure you keep an eye on Muffin. Her latest growth spurt has made her a bit clumsy.” Satoru thought about Maya’s new elementary school class photo, one he sent to all of his friends. “Looks like my little muffin’s gonna be tall like me. Buttt, I don’t care. I’m gonna keep picking her up until she’s fifty-two.”

“You got it. I wanna introduce my, uh . . . friend . . . to some of my siblings.” Yuji smiled, his cheeks becoming a dark shade of pink. “And, um . . . to you guys as well. But I don’t think she’s ready for that. Too soon, ya know?”

You and Satoru exchanged a knowing grin with one another. You then cleared your throat, suppressing the urge to giggle out of pure excitement, and you sliced into another potato. “Well, just know that we would love to meet this friend of yours. She can come over for dinner anytime.”

“Great,” Yuji approached Satoru, taking the babbling baby into his arms. “See you guys later.”

The door opened and closed. After a beat of silence — silence you had grown quite unfamiliar with — you smiled widely at Satoru.

“Yuji might have a girlfriend! This is huge!” As you started to ramble, your husband made his way around the kitchen island, approaching you. “Oh, this is so exciting. I should bake her something whenever she comes over.”

“Yeah, yeah I agree,” The words that Satoru spoke were soft, barely above a whisper, as he closed the distance between you both. His sudden kiss, however, was anything but. He bit your bottom lip with the hunger of a starved man. 

He pulled away, his lips hovering above yours.

“Are you even listening to me, sir?” You whispered against them.

“Sorta, kinda,” his warm breath grazed your cheek.

You playfully backed away from him, turning your back to your husband as you started to walk away. “If your answer isn’t yes, then no kisses for you.”

“Oh, don’t you dare.” His large hand wrapped around your wrist. He pulled you back towards him, your chest colliding with his, and he said, “alone time with you doesn’t come often. I’m taking advantage of it.”

His mouth was on you again. And his lips weren’t just kissing yours — no. He trailed his lips and tongue across the skin of your jaw and neck. His wandering hands roamed your body, exploring what was starting to become foreign territory to him after not being able to get any alone time with you. His hand gripped your ass, his lips found their way back up to yours, and he kissed you yet again, releasing a moan into your mouth as his tongue swirled around yours.

Satoru turned you around. Though he viewed his wife as a precious prize — the prize — he wasn’t exactly in the mood to handle you with gentle care right now.

Not when his dick was hardening against the fabric of his pants, begging for freedom and relief.

He used one hand to pull your hips back until your ass met his bulge. He used his other hand to push your back until you were leaning across the kitchen island, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

“In the kitchen, ‘Toru?” You said with false innocence. Oh, he could spot that bit of trickery within your voice. “That’s so . . . so unsanitary.”

“Downright nasty, isn’t it, baby?” He thrusted against you. The sheer force of his grind made your arm hit the potatoes on the kitchen island, and you could only watch helplessly as the starchy vegetables scattered onto the floor.

Satoru leaned across you until his chest was against your back. His grip on your hair tightened, the pace of his grinding quickened, and he ran his tongue across your right ear.

“Right there, right there,” he hungrily whispered. He pressed his clothed cock against you harder, your bodies rocking back and forth, back and forth. “Feel that? That’s where I need you, baby.”

“I need you somewhere too,” you breathlessly spoke. Every thrust from him was driving you crazy. You could feel him through your jeans, feel just how badly he needed you.

Satoru released his grip on your hair and let his hands fall to the button and zipper of your jeans, but you suddenly grabbed his hands, halting his advances.

He backed away from you. But, before any questions could flutter from between his wet lips, you turned around, facing him, and got down on your knees.

You ran your hands up his legs.

“My amazing, perfect husband is always showering me with love and affection, waiting on me hand and foot.” You looked up at Satoru with pleading eyes. “I want to show him how much I appreciate him.”

Satoru didn’t say a word. His blindfolded eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt.

It started off with a few, teasing swirls of your tongue around his tip, leaky with precum. But Satoru wasn’t exactly patient. He wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with, not when he wanted his cock somewhere inside of you. And that led to Satoru gripping your hair yet again and thrusting himself down your throat. He tossed his head back at the heavenly feeling, moaning your name like a prayer.

“You can still take all of me, right? Let’s see,” he said. 

That was, in a way, your only form of a heads-up before he started to thrust in and out of your hot mouth at a quick pace. Spit dribbled from the corners of your mouth. His moans grew louder, louder, and louder — he was never a quiet man, except for when his brewing orgasm suddenly washed over him, taking his breath away and making him go silent as he shot his load down your awaiting throat, but he then inhaled sharply, and more moans of pure pleasure escaped him as he finished cumming.

Satoru pulled himself out of your mouth with a smirk, and you knew what that smirk meant. 

It meant that, while he technically just finished, he wasn’t anywhere near finished.

—♡ —

Clothes were scattered along the kitchen floor, mixed with the knocked-over vegetables, cutting board, and decorative bowl of fruit.

That was the result of Satoru grabbing you off the floor, tossing you over the kitchen island, and fucking you until you were dizzy from the motion of his fast-paced thrusts.

“Give it to me one more time,” he would say after yet another orgasm, and another.

Now, after dragging your clothes back on, you were disinfecting the kitchen island and sipping on water, trying to rehydrate your weakened body, all the while, Satoru picked up the fallen fruits and vegetables. 

“Someone lose their voice?” Satoru teased. “I’m glad we don’t have neighbors close by. I can only imagine how they would’ve reacted to all that moaning.”

“Well, I would have apologized and told them to forgive my husband and his whorish ways,” you snapped back with a small grin, wiping the kitchen island.

“I went easy on you this time, ya know. I could’ve kept going,” Satoru said, picking up the cutting board.

“Seriously? My legs hurt, my back hurts, my throat hurts, and I lost count of how many rounds we-” you cut yourself off with a sigh. “Your stamina is insane. Why’d you stop if you weren’t ready to?”

“Well,” with a teasing smirk, he paused. “Number one, Someone — not me, by the way — looked like they were on the verge of meeting their maker. Number two, I was hoping we could get out of the house during the last few hours of our free time.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? We haven’t been to the movies in a while. Or . . . maybe . . .”

“Maybe you could show me what else your mouth can do. Day-time karaoke?”

“Day-time karaoke!” You laughed. “Though . . . I’m divorcing you for that bad joke.”

Satoru walked around the kitchen island. “Let’s go, we can finish cleaning when we come back,” he said, taking the cleaning supplies out of your hand. 

“We can sing the song we sang during our first date. Remember?” You looked at him, smiling brightly. Sweet memories came back to you, warming your heart and soul. 

“Of course I do,” with a smile that matched your own, he continued, “I almost blacked out from nervousness before we sang together, not after.”

“I can’t believe I used to drive you that crazy.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean used to?” His face frowned up with great offense — you would’ve thought you had raised your hand and slapped him across the cheek. 

“Come on now, you’re not damn near fainting and stuttering around me like you used to do,” you said. “You’ve gotten used to being around me. Our love has changed from that puppy-like, crushing stage into something mature and wholesome, and that’s fine. It’s beautiful.”

“Wrong,” Satoru put the cleaning supplies down. “Maybe I don’t stutter anymore, but you still drive me crazy. I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.”

“Pretty words.”

“You don’t believe me?”

You shook your head as a way of saying no.

“Gimme your hand,” Satoru nodded down at your wrist. “Come on, give it here.”

You did as you were told despite your confusion. Your husband placed your hand upon his chest, and you felt it against your palm. 

The fast-paced thumping of his heart.

“What the hell? Why is your heart beating so fast?” You asked, pulling your hand away.

“Pretty sure it’s because my extraordinary, beautiful, amazing, loving, super cute wife just smiled at me a minute ago.”

Oh.

You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him. He didn’t waste a second before returning your hug.

“I love you. What did I do to deserve you?” You asked, taking in his comforting scent.

“I ask myself the same thing every morning. What did you do to deserve me?”

A laugh escaped from you as you pulled away from him. Shaking your head, you started to walk out of the kitchen. “Okay, you know what? I’m about to go get ready, and you can shower by yourself.”

And with that, your dear husband, the Satoru Gojo, the special-grade sorcerer who loved his amazing wife and five children more than anything, followed you down the hallway, shouting, “Wait, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I bought a house with a shower big enough for two people for a reason!” 

— NEXT PART.

What did you think? Please let me know!

🍼: @marvel-girl3 @goldenglow149 @luaqsv @sstoru @pinkfemdolly @satorusgummies @therealmrsgojo @leehriie @iminlovewqr0w @odessa-is-my-queen @melodycelos @stoneaf @dreamypirate @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @starlightanyaaa @arrozyfrijoles23

[freyito]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴍᴇʀᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ...

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, mydei, phainon, anaxa (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you bring home a chimera that looks like them.

✧ a/n: SOMEHOW IT FEELS LIKE ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE POSTED A FIC??? IDK IF THIS IS NORMALLY HOW LONG IT TAKES ME BUT AUGHHH!!!!!!! i got a job again and many more things happening irl but i am FINALLY! FINALLY!!! starting to get back into the groove of writing and drawing and even gaming teehee... sometimes all you need is a change to get out of a slump i guess.

you may also notice that a few characters are missing from this post! thats cause whenever i do one of these big ol posts, a couple of characters really tend to make it feel like it drags on for me. that leads to me really dreading writing the fic and, of course, leads to me taking a month on the fic lol. this will be one of the last posts i do with all the male characters (and female, if i ever decide to write for them in the future), before i move onto writing five characters at most. im sorry if you guys liked these posts and your favorite characters werent written for, i know these are like. my most popular pieces. it just takes so long and by the time i reach certain characters i feel like im all outta juice.

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

⎯ Aventurine

“Well… I suppose we’ll see how this goes…”

AVENTURINE isn’t exactly against the idea of a chimera, but with all his catcakes, is it a good idea…? Both of you don’t know, and you feel a little embarrassed to admit that you didn’t think of this before bringing home the chimera. He’s not mad though, he’s quite taken by the little creature. But, with his penchant to collect catcakes, he worries about possible socialization issues.

The chimera, however, fits right in– aside from its striking eyes. Loafing and lounging with the catcakes, day in, day out. With a big ol’ smile on its cute face, happy to be with its kin… You think. Chimeras have the body of lion cubs, right? So aren’t they like… kind of related to catcakes? It’s a question you’d rather not ponder. Still, even so far from home, the chimera seems quite content. Paired with a bunch of companions who are all spoiled equally.

That being said, it seems you have chosen one of the laziest chimeras known to man. Ever since you had brought it home, it had kept Aventurine in bed even later, refusing to get up from his chest, even if the man had a meeting. It seems Aventurine has spoiled it far too much, or it has gotten so used to the comfortable life that it’s gotten quite stubborn…

⎯ Dr. Ratio

“Interesting….”

Most would not take RATIO as any type of pet person. No cats, certainly no dogs, no birds… the list goes on. Even his colleagues would not have guessed he’d take such a shine to such a… cute creature. As far as they know, cute is not a word within Ratio’s vocabulary. So, when his peers and students see a chimera toddling behind him, they can’t help but be interested.

He acts like he isn’t attached to the chimera, treating it more like a specimen than the cute little lion-butterfly-thing it is. When you first brought it to him, he was quite intrigued. A creature from a planet that not even the memokeepers can reach… It's a wonderful research opportunity, and a gift. One he cherishes, despite his logical approach to it. 

It seems he has bonded with the chimera on a deeper level than you expected. It just so happens that you have picked up a chimera that not only looks like Veritas, but also one that was just as enlightened as he was. You think. You don’t understand a lick of the chimera’s little chirps, but Ratio seems to understand well enough. Then again, the math that he prattles on about with the chimera, you don’t understand either.

⎯ Boothill

“Awh, who’s this little feller?”

BOOTHILL is actually quite delighted when you bring a chimera home to him, even if your reasoning is a little… odd. Looks like him? Well, there’s only one of him and that means there’s only one look-alike; the man in the mirror. Still, despite this, he’s practically in love with the chimera. It’s been so long since he’s even had a pet– and he’s always missed the dogs and cats on the ranch– so why not indulge in your silly little shenanigans, and appreciate this little critter you’ve taken the time to pick out for him?

The two get along so well. Boothill had always wanted a pet eventually, but with his lifestyle he was afraid to ever adopt. Considering he was running around half the galaxy, he was wanted, and the closest thing to home he knew now was a ship, it was just unfair to subject any sort of animal to that life. Now that he had you and a proper home, however, he had been debating getting a pet for a long, long while.

So imagine his surprise when you had handed off a chimera to him the minute he got home after a particularly rough bounty. Even the most snarkiest, annoying personality would have him charmed. It could constantly choose you over him, and he’d still fawn over the thing. He’s happy you have someone to keep you company when he’s away, but the little kid in him (who remained, despite the fact that everything around him had burned to ash) is much more happy to come home to a pet once more.

⎯ Gallagher

“Another stray, hm?”

Despite the chimera’s protests that it is not a stray, GALLAGHER doesn’t seem to mind a new pet. He’ll just pretend he didn’t hear that comment about the chimera looking like him. You had compared him to a dog so many times before, that he was practically immune. Even if a chimera wasn't a dog, or a cat, or… well, there was no use in wondering what exactly it was. Though, he was quite intrigued that you had brought home something from Amphoreus of all places, it seems that the nameless just keep going for bigger and bigger marks.

The chimera itself is quite happy to get away from its work and laze about. On the days that Gallagher is home, it enjoys curling up on his lap (or his chest, if Gallagher is napping), and bathing in his and your attention. It’s quite domestic really, you have seen Gallagher with his other pets before, but he’s more of a big dog kind of guy. To see something relatively small curled up with him, when he’s watching TV or getting ready for bed, it makes you feel… light.

He’s also quite happy to have a pet that can actually talk back. Gallagher often catches himself muttering to himself because of how much he tends to talk to his pets. So when he gets responses from the chimera, even if it’s asking to go back to bed or telling him that this work is just ‘too much’ (all Gallagher was doing was pouring himself a drink, the chimera simply chose to follow him), it was still wonderful for him to have a buddy. It’s not everyday that you have a pet that can talk back to you, right?

⎯ Sunday

“Ah… you thought of me…?”

Now, SUNDAY isn’t against pets, he’s just a little nervous. The last pet he had… Well, you know what happened to it. But, by all means a chimera is an extraterrestrial. So, naturally, he’s a little shocked. Even if the little chimera is as cute as a button and just so damn happy to be in his lap. While he knew stepping aboard the Astral Express would mean he would see quite a lot– which included different planets, and by proxy, different flora, fauna, people, and what not– he never really expected to be face to face with such a… thing.

Looking into its wide, golden eyes, however, he feels a sense of… kinship. As weird as it is. He does his best to ignore it, not to get too overly attached to the chimera. After all, surely you must bring it back to Amphoreus. Right? He does his best to ignore the papers in your hands, and chooses instead to believe that this ‘adoption’ is more of a ‘foster’ situation.

That worry dissipates with the coming days. He finds himself quite enamored with the chimera, even sneaking it leftovers when he can. He doesn’t mean to, but he ends up reading the creature passages from his books, or from some data entries he borrowed from the archive. In fact, the idea that you would have to bring the chimera back breaks his heart a little. Not that you would, it’s quite cute to watch the chimera follow Sunday around.

⎯ Argenti

“What a stunning creature!”

Isn’t the word ‘cute’ better instead? Nevertheless, ARGENTI is quite enraptured by the chimera. So much so that he doesn’t seem to realize the similarity of the creature. Really, when you saw the sparkle in its eyes, you knew this was perfect for him. The similarity was uncanny, really. With the way the chimera was staring into your very soul, chattering off (which, you could already imagine it was praising the beauty of you), a part of you wanted to get it contacts.

Needless to say, The chimera is glued to Argenti. Or perhaps it's the other way around? The man doesn’t have any traveling companions, and he had preferred for you to stay on his ship whenever he was out on one of his excursions. The chimera, however, seemed to be quite the trusty companion. That little ‘awoo’ must be vicious, given how highly the man spoke of it. ‘It’s like a cry from the very heavens!’

It seems your gift is quite well loved, though. Not that Argenti would ever dislike your gifts. You could give him a rock– one that isn’t even shiny or shaped in an interesting way– and he’d treat it like you’d have proposed to him. The chimera, however, seems to have struck a rather special chord within him. It is hard to know if you’ve truly surprised him, but you can definitely see how attached he is to the chimera. It has been too long since someone gave him something so meaningful. Perhaps even the first time.

⎯ Mr. Reca

“Ah, is this a new crew member…? Or perhaps, a new star?”

Is there a universe where MR. RECA isn’t looking for some scene to capture? ‘Cause it’s definitely not this one. No one has ever had the ability to capture something, anything from Amphoreus, so of course he’s fascinated with the chimera. He glosses over the fact that the critter looks like him. Not enough time to think about that, when this is a star in the making. What shall he come up with this time?

He unknowingly dotes on that poor little Chimera, as well… in his own way. There’s no critiques for the creature's performance (though, you must think that it doesn’t understand exactly what Reca’s goal is.), only dazzling praise, even for something as simple as curling up and taking a nap. Such a tiny little thing, full of all sorts of inspiration! It deserves nothing more than the best of praise!

For at least a month straight, he simply cannot stop thinking of ideas and ways to make the chimera a star. A documentary, perhaps. No, no, that’s too simple. A thriller, maybe? Now, that would be interesting. How could he use such a cute creature for such a medium…? Ah, so many things to work out! This excitement keeps him fueled for days. Oftentimes, he’s writing out scenes at his desk, pacing, or even talking your ear off. All while the chimera is curled up in his lap, content as can be.

⎯Sampo Koski

“And what’s this? A new business venture?”

Of course SAMPO looks at the chimera and sees a business opportunity. Not that he’s planning to sell it, no… this little fella could be the new face of his business. Cold Feet Junior, even. Needless to say, he loves the chimera. Who wouldn’t? Such a precious little treasure from way out there, somewhere not even the great Sampo Koski can get to.

Aside from the chimera now being the face of his business, he brings the thing everywhere like it’s a little chihuahua. It gets pampered to high heaven, with little treats even you have never heard about before. From all sorts of places, from Izumo to Punklorde. You start to wonder if these treats are even good for the chimera, considering just how different these foods must be from the ones back home. The chimera seems fine enough, however.

When he can’t bring the chimera with him, however, he’s the most pathetic man you know. He’ll fake cry, use a voice that is just so tear-jerking, and say a sorrowful goodbye to the chimera. He texts you everyday when he is out, begging for pictures, asking if it's okay, asking if it's eaten… and so on. You, of course, do your best to shower him with pictures of the chimera, assuring him that it’s never been better. To which, he always responds with some sort of keyboard smash (rare for him), and praises going your way, and the chimeras way.

⎯ Jing Yuan

“Hmm…”

JING YUAN could never turn down a gift from you, of course. Especially one so cute. If you hadn’t caught him at such an inopportune time (also known as nap time), perhaps his reaction would be more grand. Or the same, he’s never been one for big expressions. A simple ‘thank you’, a kiss, and something in return has always been his style. However,  this seems like a lot more than just a simple gift. A creature from Amphoreus… and a potential playmate for Mimi.

‘Potentially’ becomes a ‘definitely’ after some socializing. Instead of the chimera attaching itself to Jing Yuan, it’s very, very fond of Mimi. The grimalkin is quite well tempered, if not tolerant. The way the Chimera climbs onto him, like he is a mighty steed and not a proud lion… it’s charming in its own way. And yet, all Mimi does is maybe huff a little, and be on his merry way. Most of the time, he’d do the exact opposite the chimera wanted, by the sound of its annoyed chirps. Perhaps this was his way of playing with such a smaller creature…?

The chimera ultimately finds its spot on the bed. When you and Jing Yuan cuddled up, Mimi took his spot at the end of the bed. The chimera, unsure whether to stick themself at the end of the bed, in between you and Jing Yuan, or just sleep on the floor. Before it decides to exclude itself, Mimi makes the decision for it. With another huff (perhaps irritated that he had to leave his warm spot), he hops down from the bed, grabs the chimera by its scruff (not without it complaining, of course), and hops right back up. When you wake up in the morning, you find the chimera, stuck between Mimi’s paws, with the most content, familiar, smile on its face, while Mimi licks up its cheek repeatedly.

⎯ Blade

“...”

How many more times will this happen? First a cat cake, now a chimera. What’s next? A seal? BLADE really doesn’t know how to react. To be thought of is wonderful, but does it really always have to be in this kind of way? How many more creatures out there look like him? He can only hope you don’t find them for your ‘Blade collection’. Those poor, poor souls…

Regardless of his… pondering, the gift doesn’t go unappreciated. The chimera and Blade are like two halves of a whole, really. While Blade is sulking, so is the chimera… right next to him. When you adopted it, you swore it was just full of energy. Chirping and chattering to anyone who would listen, chimera, human, chrysos heir, no one was free from its chattering. In truth, you thought it was silly that something that held such a resemblance to such a broody man had such whimsy.

So, to see the little critter suddenly adapt Blade’s sulking and… edge, it’s a little surprising. Or not, if you understood how this tale has gone before. It’s actually kind of cute in its own odd way. When you point out the similarities in personality, all Blade feels he can do is grumble and huff. He should be used to your penchant for finding things that look and act like him by now, but somehow you always manage to surprise him. 

⎯ Luocha

“What an… intriguing gift…”

LUOCHA is never one to turn down your gifts, and he certainly won’t start now. But, despite the worlds he has traveled to and all he’s seen, somehow he’s never seen quite a creature. Perhaps it is the resemblance that throws him off. He doesn’t want to turn down your gift, but where he travels to may not be the safest place for the little Chimera. Very rarely does he stay home long enough to take care of any pet, either. He rationalizes that while it is a little amusing, this must be for you.

And of course he isn’t going to take that kind of companionship from you. It’s actually kind of endearing to him that you went through all this trouble to find a cute little look-alike. He’s more entertained by the way you dote on it, by the way you call it ‘Luo-Luo’ (even though the Chimera seems over it), and he wonders to himself if you truly got this chimera for him, or to have something to coddle while he was away. Not that you coddled him, normally. He isn’t a man to be doted on like that, and you are just too shy to do that to him.

He indulges in the adoption of the chimera, of course. Even when he’s out for months on end, he makes sure to call and check up on the Chimera (and you, but he does that normally). He shouldn’t be so surprised to see all the little outfits you’ve stuck the critter in, from cats (which makes no sense, considering the body of a chimera was a lion), to wolves. He wonders how many people you have commissioned for these little outfits…

⎯ Jiaoqiu

“And this charming little companion is…?”

JIAOQIU truly thought that the Tuskipir would be his only pet. He didn’t really need a service animal outside of the emotional support, considering he had a cane, and he knew the Yaoqing like the back of his hand. You, however, decide that if one critter does well, why won’t two do better? Plus, while the Tuskipir was used for more emotional wellbeing, Chimeras were experienced with work, and when you think about it, they’d make quite the service animals. 

What a shame that he can’t see the resemblance clearly. Still, he is quite touched by the thoughtfulness behind your gift. The chimera warms up to him all too easily, immediately taking its place by his side. Jiaoqiu doesn’t verbally admit it, but being thought of in such a way, especially after a trip that took you across the cosmos warms his heart. Even if he is pretty much completely recovered, it was quite nice to be cared for. Even as a healer.

In truth, as endearing as your gift was, he had expected the chimera to get in his way, under his legs, and become annoying in all sorts of ways. Given how happily it yipped and barked when you first arrived with it, he truly assumed it would be an annoyance. He’s pleasantly surprised that once the chimera has acclimated and settled, it becomes a wonderful companion. Chimera’s stomachs are so strong, you think, watching as Jiaoqiu feeds the critter a particular slice of beef that almost looks red, with the amount of spice he has put in the hotpot broth.

⎯ Moze

“I… Hm.”

It is rare for MOZE to talk without thinking. It is even rarer to interrupt his thoughts all together. You should be impressed with yourself. When met with the gloomy demeanor of the Chimera, Moze can only squint, open his mouth to form words, and ultimately lose them. What is he supposed to say? He’s never had a pet before, the strays in the alleyways who liked his scent were the closest thing to having one. All he really can do is hold the Chimera and stare into those oddly familiar eyes.

There is a quiet camaraderie between the two, once the confusion settles from Moze’s mind. When Moze is home (considering his work is too dangerous for any sort of pet), the two have a tacit, quiet understanding that you can’t quite… get. The Chimera follows Moze around, at a distance, and studies him closely, as if trying to commit his movements to memory. You swear, at some point, you heard Moze say ‘this is how you sweep’. When you walked in the room to check, the two were quiet as can be, while Moze was sweeping the kitchen floor, the Chimera perched on the counter.

When Moze is out, the Chimera sits by the door, or in the living room, or sometimes sleeps in his spot on the bed while waiting for him. It’s almost kind of heartbreaking when you think about it, knowing Moze is gone for most of the week. At the very least, it seems the Chimera is much, much more receptive to cuddles than your dear lover is. As much as it seems to miss its twin, it can’t resist curling up in your arms and taking a nap. It seems that the Chimera catches up on sleep in Moze’s place.

⎯ Mydeimos

“Hmph.”

MYDEI refuses to acknowledge the similarity. He pouts, sighs, and does his best to walk off and ignore the furry little companion you had brought home. The chimera trots after Mydei regardless, happy as can be, even if the man was ignoring it. You had to commend him, really. If you had something that cute following you around, you would fold immediately. But Mydei was stronger than you (and much, much more stubborn).

When Mydeimos wasn’t home, the chimera took up all his spots, short of the one in the kitchen. It’d sit in his chair at the table, enjoy the warmth of the private bath, and even take his spot on the bed. Which, Mydei truly doesn’t appreciate. Some days he is out from dawn till dusk, but he has always made it a point to come back home just before you fall asleep, so the two of you could sleep together. So to find you curled up with this little rascal, who was oh so happy to take his place, he doesn’t know what to feel.

He’s not jealous. No, no, he swears he isn’t. Why would he be jealous of a chimera? How silly. Despite that, you notice how he’s suddenly in much more of a rush to see you on the days that he is gone. He tries to beat the chimera to the bed, establishes his dominance in the kitchen (as if anyone could beat him), and makes it known– well.. you don’t know what he’s trying to prove to a chimera of all things. But it’s quite funny watching him try to one-up the creature, who was simply acting oblivious. Everytime you pet the chimera or praise it, you can always hear Mydei sigh. It’s not that he was neglecting the chimera in any way, not, he just had to one-up it. Almost every time he could.

⎯ Phainon

“Aha… Do I really look like this thing…?”

You are the third person to tell PHAINON a certain chimera looks like him. It worries him a little. Does he, a truly fearsome warrior that totally doesn’t have the air of a puppy, look like such a cute little creature? Looking into the chimera’s eyes, which are practically shining, he can’t help but concede… only for you, though. 

The very first thing this chimera does is challenge Phainon himself. To his surprise (and dismay), the chimera starts to take all his favorite spots.  Right by your legs, on your chest when you're sleeping, or when you're just laying down, and even in the baths. You find it cute, but Phainon… he’s not one to turn down a challenge, even if it’s initiated by a chimera. He takes every chance he can get to sweep you up off your feet and carry you off somewhere the chimera can only watch, like the hot baths.

While you find this kind of charming, if not funny, you can't help but feel bad for the chimera. When you show even the smallest amount of pity for it, however, Phainon decides its time to switch tactics. Instead of taking everything the Chimera did as a challenge, now it was a battle of charm. Anytime the Chimera begs for food (within his proximity), he rests his chin on your shoulder and tries to snatch the food from you. If the Chimera is sleeping on your lap, he makes an effort to also try and lay his head in your lap, and always, always, looks up at you with those pretty blues. You have to admit it's cute, but kind of pathetic. Not that you would ever want him to change.

⎯ Anaxagoras

“Hmph. But it is no Dromas.”

You, of course, know about ANAXA’s love for Dromases more than anything. You were one of the few who were graced by him and his magnificent onesie’s presence, after all. But, still, when you saw the little chimera, with its muted green coat and its missing eye, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Perhaps he is truly amused at the fact that you have found his doppelganger? Or maybe he’s finally figured out where one of his eyepatches has finally gone… either way, his tone is hard to read.

It is not long until you notice how he dotes on the chimera… in his own way, at least. He doesn’t outright ignore the critter when it toddles behind him, and on more than one occasion you have caught him talking to it, prattling on about his theories while he cleans his gun. Despite acting annoyed that you had taken one of his eyepatches for a ‘silly little costume’, he does not attempt to remove it. Not once. You take this as a victory, of course.

The real kicker is when you caught him sewing a Dromas onesie for the Chimera. His hands aren’t the steadiest, but he sits so quietly (for once), all while the Chimera lays curled up right next to his legs. You don’t mean to stare for too long, but he ends up catching you. Instead of acting shy (Which, he never did), and brushing you off, he only huffs softly, and shakes his head, before going back to his sewing. You read this as an invitation to properly watch, and when you step into the room, he doesn’t complain.

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS

[whtepony]

➻ mha boys + how they eat you out

ft. izuku midoriya, tenya iida, hanta sero (pt 1 here)

warnings: 18+ content!! mdni!!!! reader has a vagina but no pronouns used, idk slight dumbification in sero’s, not proofread

notes: idk what got into me i feel like these are so much longer than pt. 1 😭 anyway i lovvvvevvevve sero sm ugh that’s my man

izuku is a closeted perv and literally cannot get enough of you. not only is he a panty stealer but he is in love with the way you smell and especially the way you taste. he likes to catch you off guard while you’re occupied with something and drop to his knees in front of you, nudging between your legs and kissing over your panties while looking up at you with the sweetest smile. he’s straight up moaning into you the second he gets a taste and this boy is SOO eager to please. he’s a messy eater like denki and will literally study how your body reacts to his tongue. he learns allll the things that get you soaked and will use that against you. he just wants to make you cum as many times as possible! he’s pulling your hips closer to his face the more you unconsciously scoot back from all the overstimulation and will massage your thighs to comfort you while STILL going at it! “you can do one more, can’t you baby? just one?”

tenya definitely buys “she comes first” and reads it all the way through before eating you out for the first time and it’s so worth it! after the first time he learns that it’s an incredible stress reliever for him and now he asks for it all the time. and how could you ever say no?? everything this man does to you is romantic. he lays you down on your back so gently and kisses you everywhere he can reach while he undresses you. he’s the type to spread your folds open with his index and middle fingers and he doesn’t understand why you get embarrassed when he stares. you’re just so beautiful to him! tenya is super methodical with his tongue and (hot take) could probably give you the quickest orgasm of your life if he wanted to, but he likes taking his time! he’ll throw your legs over his broad shoulders and hum against you when your thighs close around his head. he also likes holding hands during it and rubs his thumb over yours subconsciously, his eyes closed while he gently sucks on your clit. you swear he looks the most relaxed when he’s between your thighs. “does that feel good, my love?”

hanta is a bigggg fan of 69 and you can’t tell me otherwise. he doesn’t even wanna cum he just thinks it’s so cute when you lose your rhythm or stop sucking him completely because of how good he’s making you feel! he’s talkative in bed too and will tease you about the way you moan around him while he’s pressing up against your g spot with his long fingers. also lovesss bucking his hips up into your mouth to make you gag when you stop moving. he’ll tease you constantly to get you worked up but you know he’ll always make it up to you. this man is a real freak and i love him for it!! he’s like a perfect combo of katsuki, denki, and izuku - hanta will start out crazy slow to tease you but always ends up making you cum at least three times with his tongue alone and has to keep going if he feels like you haven’t made a big enough mess yet. sheet changes are frequent when you let him get between your legs. he really just wants you all dumb and pliable before he even fucks you, which isn’t hard when he’s as good as he is! “i know baby, i know, promise ‘m gonna fuck you after this one..”

[theoneandonlysourcandy]

Harley sawyer X reader Headcanons

Gosh he’s so HHHOOOOTTT I couldn’t wait for people to start writing about him I HAD to do this. Writing this at 1 am so if there’s stupid stuff sorry. Also I rewrote some of the headcanons and got rid of one bc they felt mischaracterizing

Inspo: @thatssomegoodsoup

Content warning: mentions of death, some spoilers

📺 - He’d want to cuddle sometimes, but, he would be reluctant to. He’s a cold, metal robot, that wouldn’t be very comfortable. But, if you did, he’d try to use something to cover his robot body, like, how most people draw him with a long black cloak thingy?

📺 - You can see his screen faintly glitch for a moment if you suddenly kiss him. If you ask him about it, he’ll try to convince you it never happened and your just seeing things.

📺 - He’d HATE you leaving his lab. Do you see how dangerous this place is? He can’t have the one person he actually cares about dying. Whenever you do leave the lab, he has yarnaby come with, while keeping a close eye on you with the cameras.

📺 - Even if he worries for you sometimes, he’d never say it.

📺 - He’s rarely that affectionate, but he’ll let you hold his hand or arm if you’d like. Sometimes while he’s thinking he’ll just subconsciously do either of those with you. If your not there, he’d tap his finger against something or click a pen over and over.

📺 - One of the toys hurt you? Oh. Oohh. They’ll feel pain worse then any experiment he ever put them through.

📺 - There really isn’t anyone that can make him jealous in the factory anymore, but if there was, he could get jealous pretty easily, and he’d make sure to “take care” of them quickly.

📺 - Keeps you far away from most of the toys. Though, he lets yarnaby and that weird big baba chops thingy he has be with you as much as they like. They can protect you, plus, he knows you think their adorable, even if he doesn’t quite understand how you can see those creatures as cute.

📺 - Sit on his lap and he starts overheating. Seriously, you saw some smoke coming from him once. He said it was from one of the many broken machines.

📺 - On rare occasion you can catch him staring lovingly at you with his eye. Though, he does it pretty often, he’s just quick to snap out of it and hide it before you can see.

📺 - He loves your looks. He’ll tell you your beauty and your handsomeness, how your eyes have a beautiful sparkle to them, how your hair frames your face perfectly, he can see all the beauty in you, and he can see what you think are flaws. You are his beautiful trophy that he earned.

[xoxo-sarah]

A Chance

My Wife part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

↝pairing: Season1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: things are rough between Daryl and Reader, death, cursing, arguing, walkers, ect. The usual twd stuff, angst, reader wears Daryl's clothes ( but as a big girl myself, we can just ignore how he's a twig and that's most likely unrealistic 🫡), not proofread

↝⎙ 1.30.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Daylight broke and Andrea hadn't moved.

Daryl grumbled about Amy turning, but you quickly shot him down each time. People grieve in different ways. Andrea knew what she had to do when the time came.

"Y'all can't be serious." Daryl huffed, watching Andrea through squinted eyes, "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time-bomb." He seethed.

"Daryl," You glared up at him, rubbing the scratch on your upper arm. "Don't be insensitive."

"We ain't got time for this." He seethed, glaring back at you.

You stood, "She lost her sister, not her smarts. She knows what to do."

He stepped closer, putting his weight on one leg, slightly slouching to be eye level with you. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work. You had seen the dark, sad parts of him. He will never be able to scare you or berate you with actions or words. "And if she don't?"

"What do you suggest?"Rick questioned Daryl, stopping the oncoming argument.

Daryl stepped closer to Rick, bringing his fingers to his temple, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori spoke up, "For God's sake, let her be."

Dary scoffed before walking off. In turn, you eyed the back of Andrea's head. She knew what she had to do, right? You hoped so.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you looked around at all of the bodies. Most were people who you had just seen, laughing and eating. Others were the dead that had wandered from the city.

Shutting your eyes, your hand automatically went to your wrist, the tightly woven thread helping to ground you. Your fingers traveled down to your left hand, the wedding ring soothing against your fingertips, a contrast to the thick thread of the collar/ bracelet on your wrist.

Daryl looked up as he helped drag a body across the ground. He watched you, watched your movements; a desperate search for comfort.

- time skip -

Daryl stomped away, not understanding why Amy and Jim were not being taken care of. They were "ticking time bombs". They were liabilities. In the new world, there was not time to grieve. Sneering at the thought, he yanked the tent flap back, watching you jump, immediately wiping under your eyes.

His eyes trailed over you in the silence of the moment. You needed comforting. He wanted to comfort you. He really did. But he had a feeling those tears were his doing. He shouldn't have taken his frustration out on you, knowing you had witnessed something horrific.

The tent opening fell down as he walked away.

Your hands instantly went back to your face, muffling the sobs that raked your body.

-

Sweat had mixed with the dirt and grime, caking your skin as you helped bury the bodies. The bright sun beat down, causing you to squint.

Daryl kept an eye on you from a distance. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other since the morning. You were both too stubborn.

Backing his truck up, bodies in the bed of it, Daryl caught sight of you looking up through the side mirrors. Just as quickly, you looked away and got back to digging, ignoring Rick and Shane's argument to your left. Turning the truck off, Daryl jumped out, slamming the door.

He made his way to where you, Rick, and Shane were digging holes for the friends you had light the night prior. "I still think it's a mistake not burning these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first."

Daryl scoffed, "The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow 'em along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here- what the rules are."

"And who the hell's in charge, Daryl? It sure as hell ain't you."

Daryl scoffed again, watching as you glared at him, waiting for him to reply, from where you had jumped down in a freshly dug hole.

"There are no rules." Rick countered Daryl's statement.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori walked past Daryl's truck, children and their mothers behind her. "We haven't had one moment to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to hear what anyone thought about that.

-

Feeling disgusting, you had made your way back to the tent. Not having any clothes, you opted for something of Daryl's. His cut shirts weren't ideal, but they were cooling and non-restricting. His old work pants fit loose, but that's not anything string couldn't fix.

Buttoning the second to last button of the dingy shirt, you heard the opening of the tent begin to unzip. You moved to cover yourself, but ultimately relaxed when Daryl stepped in. He looked up, scanning your body before glancing behind himself, making sure nobody had seen you changing from over his shoulder. He zipped the flap back up, before simply standing there. He was slightly hunched over, as were you, thanks to the small tent.

It was silent.

Your fingers went back to the button, as you ignored your husband's presence.

Daryl moved closer, standing behind you. The air around you two changed. His head fell to your shoulder, his own grime mixing with yours. He stayed there, vulnerable. This was his way of apologizing.

Your body relaxed further, sinking back into him. His arms snaked around your middle, holding you close.

"It's okay." You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, and not to disturb this newfound peaceful atmosphere. He nodded, moving his hands to your hips, turning you around. His fingers made quick work of buttoning the last button for you.

-

The next morning, everyone was getting ready to leave for the C.D.C. Rick was out in the field, talking to a man named Morgan, the guy who had saved Rick’s life. Lori, Carol, and the kids were helping to load everything into cars. You helped Daryl load up his truck. Hopping onto the tailgate, you helped pull Daryl’s bike up, gently laying it on the truck bed.

“Are ya willin’ to put your life in his hands?” Daryl helped you jump down, glancing at Rick in the distance. Daryl was looking to you for answers. You were always the more level-headed of the two. Daryl would follow you into fire, he’d follow you to the end of the world. And you just might be doing that.

“I think you have to hope there’s a safe place out there. If we don’t hope for it, then we won’t get it. Hope is all we’ve got.” You patted his chest, before walking by him. He watched you, before slamming the rusted tailgate closed.

-

The wind blew through your hair, cooling your face. Daryl drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other near his mouth as he nipped at his fingernails. The leg that was not being used for the gas and brake pedals slightly shook, a trailer to his nerves. You rode in silence.

“”M sorry–‘bout yesterday.” He spoke up first, biting his thumb nail. You turned your head, looking at his side-profile. He didn’t dare to glance at you.

“I know. I am too. We were both on edge; said some things. It’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “Ya think Merle’s alright?”

You thought about it. Daryl had told you what they found on the roof and what they had run into.

“I think he’s a tough fucker to kill.” Daryl let out an entertained huff, “He had enough energy to steal the van, so there’s a high chance he’s okay…maybe.”

Daryl let your words marinate. Letting out a deep exhale, he swapped hands on the wheel, placing his right one of your knee. You moved closer to him, placing your hand over his.

-

Guilt was eating at you.

You had all left Jim under a tree. Sure, it was per his request, but that didn’t stop the shame bubbling in your gut. Even miles from where he sat, you had a frown on your face, thinking of him. The turning was inevitable. But the thought of him having to sit there and deal with the feeling of his bones being made of glass, cutting into him with the slightest move, having to deal with that all on his own, hurt you.

Daryl felt the tension in the truck. You sat closer to the door, hands in your lap.

His hand moved toward the radio, before cursing himself. That wouldn’t work in the apocalypse

Grumbling, he leaned over, opening the glove box and blindly digging through. Pulling a cassette tape out, he plucked it into the truck, twisting the volume knob.

It’s what Jim wanted, you kept reminding yourself. But it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. You just hoped he wasn’t in pain for much longer.

-

Daryl tapped your arm, watching you blink awake. The melody had settled you to a light slumber. Still groggy from sleep, you took in your surroundings. For a moment, you forgot that the world went to shit. The sky was turning a dark orange, sun setting in the distance. But as you sat up in the seat, you could see the bodies on the ground, bugs buzzing above them.

“Wanna get out?” Daryl stared at you as you looked at the huge building through the windshield. Even more bodies laid in front of the building, flies swarming them. Some bodies were mindlessly wandering around.

This was the C.D.C?

Without giving a response, you opened your door, jumping out. Daryl followed, grabbing his crossbow and a shotgun from the floorboard. Walking around the truck, he pressed the gun to your side, getting your attention. You grabbed it and began following everyone to the building.

The stench alone almost had you hurling.

“Alright, everybody,” Shane began whispering, “Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let’s go.”

The constant buzzing of flies and the horrible smell of decay just might be your own personal hell.

Finally, you were a few feet from the building. Rick and Shane beat on the roll-up doors.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog swayed on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick was holding onto hope; he had to.

“Walkers!” Daryl pulled you by the arm, putting you behind him.

Children screamed, guns cocked, feet shuffled.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl turned, making his way toward Rick. His nostrils flared. Fury behind his eyes.

You stepped in front of him, separating him and what he wanted to do out of anger and frustration.

“He made a call!” Dale interjected.

Daryl rounded you, “It was the wrong damn call!”

Shane stopped Daryl. “Just shut up. You hear me? Shut. Up. Shut up!” He pushed Daryl back, pointing at him.

You quickly walked over, grabbing Daryl’s shoulder before the whole thing could escalate.

Shane turned, walking back to Rick, who still stood at the shutters. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol held onto her daughter, but was ignored.

Night was blanketing the sky–fast. You could barely see where the cats were parked from where you stood.

Shane continued, “Do you hear me? No blame.”

Lori acknowledged Carol, “She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick-still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea stepped forward, glowering. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected.

Carl clung to Lori’s legs. She stared at her husband, “Forget Fort Benning! We need answers tonight, now.”

“We’ll think of something.” Rick tried, not meeting his wife’s eyes.

“C’mon!” “Let’s go!” “Let’s get out of here!” Everyone began to make their way back to the vehicles, “Alright, everybody back to the cars. Let’s go, move.”

“The camera– It moved!”

“You imagined it.”

“It. Moved.” Rick didn’t think anything of Dale’s words, walking closer to the camera near the doors. “It moved.”

“Rick, man. It’s an automated device. It’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me.” Shane grabbed Rick by his upper arm, trying to drag him away. “Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s. Dead. You need to let it go, Rick!”

Rick pushed Shane off, going to the shutters and beating against them again. He stared up into the camera.

“Rick! There’s nobody here!” Lori yelled.

Rick ignored her, “I know you can hear me!”

Shane began ushering everyone back to the cars. “Everybody get back to the cars, now!”

Rick didn’t budge. “Please, we’re desperate. Please help us.” He begged, “We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Lori thrusted Carl onto you, seeing as you were the closest to her, and ran over to Rick. She grabbed him. “Rick-”

“We have nowhere else to go-”

“There’s nobody here.”

Rick continued to pound on the doors.

Carl clung tighter to you.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shane ordered.

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us! Please!” Rick yelled at the top of his lungs.

Shane went over, pushing Lori away and grabbing Rick by his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Carl pushed himself closer to you, hearing his father so desperate but to no avail.

Rick fought against getting dragged back, still staring into the camera, “Please help us.”

People shouted. Carl’s tears soaked into your /Daryl’s/ pants.

“You’re killing us! YOU’RE KILLING US!”

Shane shoved Rick away, watching his face crumble.

“You’re killing us.”

Your eyes widened, holding Carl closer, as a bright light nearly blinded you. The shutters opened, rolling up slowly. A hissing echoed. Everyone gawked, not knowing what to do.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered. Carl let go, running to his mother.

You cocked your gun, joining Daryl. He glanced at you, a questioning gaze set on you. You simply blinked at him, in shock.

Everyone walked toward the light, looking around and gawking at the interior. It smelt clean, a contrast to the horrid, rotting smell outside.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Close those doors.”

“Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?”

A gun cocking had the group readying themselves, wildly looking around for the source.

A man stood in the shadows, gun in hand. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick answered the unknown man.

“Why are you here?” The man stepped forward, “What do you want?” He put the gun down, looking at all of your grime-covered faces.

“A chance.”

Part 4

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[dcxdpdabbles]

I am feral for fake dating au and alley boyfriends goes so hard, I am on my hands and knees begging for a part 3

Tim's afternoon meeting gets canceled due to three of the members coming down with the flu. Usually, he would have just sent them a recording of what they missed, but since the three were presenting and the meeting was meant to be with the five department heads, he feels it would be best to reschedule.

There was only so much HR could report to him, after all. This meant he had the entire afternoon off.

Tim usually uses the free time he finds himself with to get a head start on other work. Maybe even some crake some cases. But today, he knew Danny was off from his job. His roommate was likely at home watching that new show he really got into.

Last night, he explained the entire plot over their dinner- Danny came from one of those families that always ate dinner at the same time- and went as far as to reveal fun facts he learned about the production team in charge of his show.

Tim didn't understand why Danny was so excited to know the lighting effects used only for a particular character. Nor did he find it as fascinating.

However, watching him get excitable was endearing enough that he listened to the whole thing. Then, he sat down to watch the show, finding it adorable that Danny couldn't stop speaking to the screen as if the characters could hear him.

Tim stares at his computer screen, trying his best to get himself to focus. The data sheets needed some work, but he had two weeks to complete it, and he really wasn't in the mood to verify so much work if he wasn't completely focused.

He glances at the clock, watching the little red hand tick. He insisted on having a face clock in his office instead of just having an electrical one because he found the ticking sound comforting.

Now, it merely annoyed him. That only happens when he's been trapped inside the office for too long or gone out as Red Robin so much he neglected his Tim Drake side. He could take the afternoon off, but what fun would that be?

He had also been trapped at home for a long time, working remotely whenever he could. Tim wanted to go out, but he didn't want to do that alone.

It would be so dull to just go to the same places on his lonesome as it would be sitting in his office or in his room. He could play video games or watch a movie with his roommate, but it wasn't the same of getting outside for a little while

His eyes landed on his cell phone. He could call Danny and ask if he wanted to go out today, but he had no idea what to do. He could take Danny shopping again- apparently, his roommate had no actual use for suits at his barista job, so the two had gone to the mall and gotten him some jeans and t-shirts, but the other seemed tired of that the last time.

Tim didn't want to spend money at the movies either because he wanted to do something active. The problem was that Danny hated spots with a passion and wasn't one for hiking or walking. They could go to a place to eat, but going out just for food wasn't something they could fill a whole afternoon with, not to mention Gotham's cold wave had most of the hang-out places closed until summer.

How hard was it to think of something to do in a city this big?

His eyes shift over to his computer before he caves. He quickly changes the docking station on his work computer to his personal laptop, eyes dancing between his two monitors.

He types into the search engine Where to take your roommate in Gotham City.. The first result is a list of locations, but Tim finds that they are all well-known tourist places, which is something he would rather avoid. He's just not up for a big crowd.

The following result is restaurants to try, which again isn't enough to fill the entire afternoon with- he notes to visit the ramen place because Danny mentioned he wanted to have some three days ago. He grows irritated with the similar lists he clicks until he stumbles across a new store that opened only a week ago.

It's new enough that most people don't know about it, which means they could enjoy a fun new activity since it is a random Tuesday.

Tim checks the store times, confirms that they could be there for a few hours and then reaches for his phone. Three taps later, a dull ringing sounds in his ear as he waits for Danny to answer.

Initially, he didn't want to go shopping, but he thought Danny would enjoy this shop more than any clothes store.

"Yellow?" Danny chirps in his ear, warm and bright. His voice reminds him of the comfortable nights when he's brewing Tim a lovely London Fog Late.

At once, Tim feels himself relaxed. "Hey, Danny. I have the afternoon off. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?"

"Oh, sure! What do you want to do?"

Tim looks up at the screen. "How would you like to go to a place that lets you design your own succulent and offers an entire room filled with decorations to personalize it?

"I'll be ready in fifteen minutes!" Danny shouts the sound of crashes accompanying his voice as he likely leaps from the couch. "How expensive is it?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll pay for everything." Tim tells Danny just as Tam and three interns wander into his office. He holds up a finger at them, listening to Danny loudly proclaim he wants to be the one to treat Tim.

It's sweet, but Tim had so much money he didn't know what to do. Danny was saving up to buy his own car- and the last time Tim offered to buy him one, his roommate had refused to make him the Red Robin Rush for a week.

"Don't worry about money, Danny. Just get dressed, and tonight, you can make it up to me the usual way." He says, feeling a slow, smug smile spread across his face as Danny rushes to the coffee station to check through the tea they had.

"I'll do something even better. It's a new trick I picked up, but it's guaranteed to keep you up all night." Danny tells him as he fumbles with his clothes- likely changing- which is loud enough to echo from his phone speakers. An intern shifts, uncomfortable on his feet.

Tam raises an impressed eyebrow, which, for some reason, makes Tim slightly embarrassed. His face turns a bit red as he hastily tells his roommate. "I should be picking you up in an hour."

"Wait, what do I wear for this? I will not repeat O'malley's."

Tim's face turns redder at the reminder of last week's blunder. It wasn't his fault that what he considered casual clothes were what Danny thought were formal. He told the man to meet him at the restaurant after work, not considering it upscale since it was only served dinner, and once again, Danny's outfit had him stopped at the door by a worker who didn't think he was dressed the part.

"Just wear that outfit I like. The blue one." He tells him about the black sweatshirt with blue stripes and a fluffy black and blue sweater. It was the warmest, most stylish thing Danny women meant for streetwear, and he knew it would be a bit chilly in the evening.

"Alright. See you soon. Text me when you are outside. Byeeeee"

"Bye," Tim hangs up and offers the three interns and impressed secretary a sheepish look. "Sorry about that. How can I help you?"

Tam steps forward, waving a hand at the two young men and single women older than him by a few years. They straighten up as his PA speaks. "I just wanted to introduce the interns that start tomorrow; it won't take more than five minutes if you have to be somewhere soon."

"It's lovely to meet you all. " Tim smiles, ignoring the wide-eyed stare the one on the left is giving him. The introductions don't take long at all, but Tim still feels restless when he grabs his coat and rushes past Tam's empty desk. He leaves a note on her desk telling her he took the afternoon off and practically skips down to the parking garage.

He is unaware of the rumors circulating among his employees after a particular intern on the left let it slip he overheard Mr. Drake talking to his lover like their relationship was....like that. He is even more unaware that the second he picks up Danny from the front of their building, five shadows break into his penthouse and search the place for any drugs.

He is too busy picking out crystals with his roommate, who babbles about their effects on ghosts, memorized by his silly random knowledge again.

Meanwhile, Bruce is horrified to find some green liquid in the second bedroom. He's not sure why Tim or Danny have to separate rooms if they truly are lovers, but the fact this was hidden in the room by the other boy gives Jason's idea of Tim living with his dealer aan uncomfortable amount of credit.

He returned a sample to the Cave when his other children reported nothing. They refrained from planting any bugs just because Tim would find them, and it would stop him from trusting them should they have to give him a proper introduction.

Upon conducting some tests, despite the similar appearance to the Lazarus pits, results showed it's closer to the formula of Mr. Freeze's ice ray but in liquid form.

Why would Fenton hide this? What was he up to? Did Tim know that Fenton had cut an entire part of the wall to hide jars and jars of this goo?

[xinganhao]

🍨 svt spoiling their partner.

★ prompt: how ot13 spoils their partner? 🥹🥹🥹 i am just a girl give me treats c/o @shinwonderful

ⓘ established relationship, pet names, fluff. headcanons under the cut. special thanks to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping! ♡

🍨 read more?

seungcheol 𖹭 planning dates. he will refuse to let you lift a finger for your day out. everything will be meticulously laid out, finetuned to be something that you'll enjoy. his goal is to lessen the mental load of decision-making and planning; he wants you to be able to focus solely on enjoying the surprise, and he'll break his back to make sure that happens.

jeonghan 𖹭 'parallel play'. even if the two of you might not be interested in the same things, that's okay. he's happiest to spend quality time with you at home, where the two of you are free to do your own thing within eachother's presence. just being in your vicinity already makes him content, and so he plans everything around the two of you getting to explore and share your respective hobbies.

shua 𖹭 acts of service. need help with your taxes? need someone to fill up your tank? he's already on it. he'll say that these are all 'little things', call it the bare minimum, when it's apparent that he makes it a conscious effort to make your day-to-day easier. his brand of spoiling you comes in the form of quietly doing things that will improve your quality of life.

junhui 𖹭 buying clothes you'll like. he can't help it, really. when he sees an article of clothing that he thinks suits your style? when he finds a local brand that shares your advoacy? he's already pulling out his wallet. he likes the idea of dressing you up. nothing makes him happier than knowing you're wearing an outfit that he entirely picked out for you.

soonyoung 𖹭 daily reasons why he loves you. people always joke that he has a bit of a motormouth, so why shouldn't he use it on talking about you, you, you? he's big on words of affirmation, on making sure you never doubt how he feels for you. he'll point out the little and big things that make him adore you, and it's never the same reason twice.

wonwoo 𖹭 indulging your interests. he may not always understand these trends— blind boxes, must-have fashion pieces, et cetera— but he'll never make you feel bad about it. if there's anything that you want, he's already doing everything within his power to get it. his greatest joy is seeing your face light up once he's gotten you your 'priority' item; it's why he keeps doing it in the first place.

jihoon 𖹭 trying new things for you. there's a long list of things that jihoon never thought he'd do, but then he started dating you. time and time again, he willingly goes out of his comfort zone to accompany you on the little adventures and experiences that you ask to go on. he does these things scared, does them anxious, does them begrudgingly,— does them all for you.

seokmin 𖹭 meals he thinks you'll like. he's the type to have dozens of tabs open for homemade recipes dot com. he knows he's an amateur at this, but he's undeterred in trying. whether it's a trending pastry on tiktok or the comfort meal that your mother makes you, he's determined to learn it so you're always eating well.

mingyu 𖹭 getting-to-know card games. he gives as good as he takes, which means mingyu's way is to listen and remember. a night where the two of you can just have deep conversations with no interruptions is his ideal evening. he will know he succeeded if the two of you end up talking until the sun rises, feeling like the hours haven't passed at all.

minghao 𖹭 postcards from tour stops. he loves art and he loves you. his postcards are pocket-sized reminders of those facts, always packaged with a few choice words that are sweet and sincere. his trinkets are very "i-got-you-this-because-it-reminded-me-of-you" in nature, and you know each one was purchased with you at the front of mind.

seungkwan 𖹭 getting you your favorites. he figures he should put his industry connections to use somehow. he's always amused by how happy you get over a rare photocard, signed album, or concert tickets, and so he keeps it up. buying dozens of albums, contacting other labels, bearing the arduous ticketing. your excitement at the end of it makes it all worth it.

vernon 𖹭 producing songs. he hadn't really pegged himself as the making-music-for-the-sake-of-it type until he met you. now, he revels in getting to send you a track that's for your ears only. all the lyrics just seems to flow naturally when it's you inspiring him, and so he sends you works-in-progress with reminders that you're the only intended audience.

chan 𖹭 at-home massages. he's all too familiar with the aches of an ailing body, so he knows exactly how and where to work on you. he always does what he calls 'the works'— a good bath, scented candles, essential oils. he lets you take your time, and he takes his time with you in helping you unwind.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[screambirdscreaming]

Perhaps the most peeving thing here is the way people keep jumping up to say, "you dont understand! I just want comforting narratives where people like me are embraced by society, as a break from reading stuff where I have to think about implications - you just don't understand the appeal of reading cozy mindless things to relax!"

And I'm like. Actually I really do! I often enjoy stories that are comforting and not emotionally challenging! I just dont find narratives of assimilation comforting. I don't find it reassuring or mindless to be shown a world where certain people have been moved from the "marginalized" box to the "normalized" box, and proceed to have a totally standard normal-guy low-stakes narrative from the lap of societal acceptance! I dont find it at all a balm or comfort to the struggles of marginalization. I find it grating and exhausting, and it makes me feel *more* aware of the forces of oppression and how they exist as the necessary inverse process of the forces of normalization.

There's a lot of political baggage here, obviously. Without digging too deep into that: if the type of story that gives you the least cognitive dissonance is one where you are - without changing in any way - allowed back into realms of "socially normal", what that means is basically that you consider your expulsion from normalcy an aberration, rather than a sign of deep flaws in the concept of social acceptance. You have not integrated your own experience of marginalization into a perspective on what marginalization says about society. You have not sought solidarity with other perspectives on marginalization, or if you have, it's still with the back-pocket loophole that you think you might, personally, be allowed back in. And that you're not sure you wouldn't take it, if you were.

And I get that for queer people right now, a lot of this is hazy. Maybe you would be allowed back in! Maybe you are! There's been a big swing in social acceptance, even if it's really unstable. Maybe the idea of a world where you, personally, can go back to being unmarginalized is a possibility that feels genuinely comforting.

But if you, or your friends, are a little farther out of reach of that edge. If the nature of society is so fundamentally hostile to you that simply being "accepted back in" would not meaningfully alleviate what hurts you about society - if the bare minimum for a world that isn't hostile to you requires deeper than a surface-level change - than playing pretend with that surface level change provides no comfort. If anything, it makes the cognitive dissonance worse - and makes you feel like your supposed allies are fairweather friends who would ditch you in the struggle if they were offered a bargain of acceptance. Which is very lonely and upsetting.

Or, regardless of how personal it is to you, if you've read and thought deeply enough into history or social theory to see how arbitrarily constructed the whole concept of social acceptance is - if you're a bit aware of the implications and underpinnings of things like family structures and divisions of labor and the like - the kinds of slight-of-hand shortcuts that are used to put those problems out of sight become very frustrating. Again it's a matter of cognitive dissonance: whether the typical fiction/fantasy "stock answers" to various concerns reassure your sense of how things normally work, or whether they raise red flags of horrors shoved out of sight.

Some people will act like you're "overthinking everything" and "actively looking for problems" if you talk about your emotional reaction to those red flags. But no: it's as direct and thoughtless as the reaction of finding them a comforting reassurance of business going on as usual. (You could say, the curtains are red at home. Comfort is a matter of perspective!)

Anyway, it comes back to a baseline of: what ways of conceptualizing the world feel easy, comfortable, and thoughtless to you? They may not be the same as the concepts you would consciously acknowledge, or agree with on a cognitive level! There are a lot of layers to integrating ideas into your worldview. It can take a lot of time and reflection for things to reach deeply, to the level of your intuitive reactions.

When people say, "I know it doesn't really hold up to scrutiny, but it's just really mindless and relaxing" - what that indicates, I think, is a certain particular position on that curve of conceptual integration. Where your deep emotional relationship to the idea of normalcy and assimilation is in a different place than the concept you consciously hold. And I can see where people get really upset when you push on this, because it feels like you're invalidating the things they truly and actively believe, by pointing out that the things they emotionally resonate with are in fundamental contradiction to those beliefs.

But it's also really annoying when people insist that you "just don't understand the appeal of mindless comfort fiction", when what you are actually trying to say is that you think it would be nice if people wrote more fiction that was comforting to people who find the idea of assimilation uncomfortable.