#this was a post about pain but turned into a lament | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shintin · 6 months

Text

Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Satoru Gojo receives a letter, inviting him to a secluded cottage in the forest. Is it a trap by curse users or a haunting memory trying to scratch his wounds?

Or a story about how You and Satoru Gojo fucked after years.

Word count: +11 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, reader-insert, no Y/N, post-breakup, soft Satoru Gojo, curse user reader, no death, too much fluff and kissing, cunnilingus, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex (c’mon! we all want this), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, tear licking, emotional trauma, emotional sex, no manga spoilers.

Notes: Hey there! I wrote this because Gege Akutami left an emotional mark on me. So, you know...

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

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As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the dense foliage, a mysterious man with stark white hair and a black blindfold stepped into the heart of the desolate wilderness. Satoru Gojo. The air hung heavy with the earthy scent of wet soil mingling with the musty aroma of decaying leaves, a reminder of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.

Every step he took got lost between the giggles and hisses of harmless curses hiding behind the trees with fear. The ground beneath his feet was carpeted with a mosaic of fallen leaves, their vibrant red, orange, and gold colors now muted and lifeless, as if drained of all vitality. Some of them, with still a breath to take, crunched beneath his weight, the sound of a heartrending dirge that reverberated through the desolation.

Tall, gnarled trees stood sentinel on either side, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers as if yearning to trap the unwary. Their towering forms were shrouded in darkness, their essence reduced to withered remnants. They whispered mournful laments in the wind, their voices carrying tales of forgotten sorrows.

The forest, once flourishing and thriving, now seemed like a tragic tableau frozen in time. The canopy above formed a suffocating barrier that only got disturbed by the man's ethereal presence. Wild ferns brushed against his legs, leaving behind a trace of dew upon his black trousers. The moist ground yielded beneath his every step as if reluctant to release its grip from his boots' footprints.

As he pressed further into the jungle, the darkness deepened, the path twisting and turning like a labyrinth of despair. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like grasping tendrils as if eager to ensnare his soul. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional painful cry of a distant creature.

The cottage he had received its address stood as a solitary figure amidst the gloomy jungle, a crumbling monument to forgotten dreams. Its dilapidated walls whispered of lost hopes and shattered promises, its windows veiled with white curtains.

With his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he watched the scene before him, a twisted smile playing upon his lips. He thought it was a perfect place, a trap waiting to spring him. But who would be foolhardy enough to challenge the strongest of all times?

But wait!

He couldn't feel any cursed energy! His six eyes were dumb. There was only one who could blind their watchful gaze.

So, when Satoru Gojo approached the house, his heart quickened after a long time, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins. The stage was set, the elements conspiring to test his resolve. Would he emerge from this shadowed encounter unscathed, or would the jungle claim yet another victim, lost to the depths of its sorrow-laden clutches?

Satoru's focus fixated on the doorknob, a slight gulp revealing his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed open the door. The scent of something sweet enveloped his nostrils, a reminiscent embrace that momentarily distracted his senses. However, as his eyes met the sight that awaited him, an unexpected revelation struck him with a force that resurfaced long-forgotten memories.

The inside resembled an aged hideout, with wooden walls and colorful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting warm, dappled patterns on the worn tatami floor. In the center of the room, a round table took its place, adorned with a vase of delicate forget-me-not flowers. Flanking the table were two chairs. And then, in the small kitchen stood the person who had left a void in his heart.

"You're late," your voice rang out in a cheerful tone, beckoning him forward. "Come inside. It's chilly out." With your back facing the door, you stood at the counter, appearing preoccupied with unwrapping something.

Caught in a maelstrom of emotions, Satoru's thoughts fragmented like scattered puzzle pieces, their intended purpose obscured by the inner turmoil. His hand held the doorknob tightly, trapped in a state of ambiguity, unable to release its grip.

Was this a mirage? How could it be that when you seemed precisely the way he had traced the outline of your body in the air while lying in bed, unable to sleep?

Yes, of course, there were nights when the desire to run his fingers through your hair filled his dreams. It was inevitable; your scent permeated everything, even riding on the breeze. There were days fatigue misled him, mistaking weariness for the embrace, he craved, only to discover the hollowness within his very bones. Your body was no longer curled around him, no comfort, and in your absence, each day left him icy, with lips turning blue and hands yearning for the warmth of your touch. He felt adrift in a blizzard, seeking the faint flicker of a fire you had extinguished.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Satoru? Think! Is this a manipulation technique?

And then, as if compelled by an unseen power, you turned your head, causing his heart to skip a beat—countless beats. You were undeniably real.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Seeing you was akin to being hit in the knee with a bullet. Satoru's legs nearly gave way, his heart raced, and his hands turned clammy, almost causing him to collapse. He had never felt this urge to tear off his blindfold before, as your departure had happened so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to see you. Although he had committed every detail of you to memory, but this…this… witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience.

He stepped back, feeling the heaviness of the past, necessitating some distance. The harsh truths loomed, threatening to engulf him as he wrestled with the profound effect of your presence. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding situation. The reality was so surreal, making it difficult for him to grasp that it was really occurring.

"Why are you just standing there?" you asked, holding a pack of his beloved Kikufuku mochis in your hands. A radiant smile graced your face, illuminating the damp room with its brightness.

He couldn't give two fucks about mochis when your face had that effect on him, always causing him to lose track of where he was, who he was, and what he might say or do. And that familiar smile, it killed him a little. His gaze remained there, lingering for too long, his concealed eyes giving away his thoughts. "Why do you have that look on your face?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity and stepping closer to him.

As you stood before him, the closeness amplified the wave of emotions within him. Joy and disbelief raced through his veins. The fragrance that surrounded you, so hauntingly acquainted, sparked a rush of nostalgia.

Satoru Gojo was born with a specific purpose, a set of perfect eyes, and the weight of his lineage on his shoulders. He was reserved and calculated. When he mastered the Limitless technique, he concluded that infinite solitude was the only way to survive. Because how he could describe the experience of seeing everything, for when you see everything, you see nothing. An excess of color turns into pure black, an infinite void.

Yes, he was born with those six eyes. People never let him forget. But to you, his eyes were simply eyes. He recalled the first time you teased him about them and how his heart caught in his chest because he had never seen someone as vibrant and colorful as you.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. The first time he saw you, he felt it. An ache. Like a little electric burn. He felt his life changed.

Gradually, his loneliness began to dissipate. He found a place for himself in this chaotic world. With you, he could laugh, cry, joke around, and even be a brat. It was something no one could genuinely grasp—the feeling of finally being alive as a person. Before you, he felt he hadn't truly existed, merely scattered atoms in an indifferent universe following a predetermined path. But you changed everything. You dismantled and rebuilt him anew. You molded him, nurtured him, and despite him being the strongest, you kept him safe.

Without a noble title or material wealth, you were everything that went against the expectations of the Clan Elders. Yet, you stood faithfully by his side, precisely where he believed you belonged. Or at least, that's what he presumed.

Then, on that fateful day, the day he desperately wished was nothing more than a dreadful nightmare, reality unfolded before him. How could it be real? He stood there, confronted by the lifeless bodies of two Higher Ups and their protectors, with you covered in their blood. It was inconceivable. He couldn't accept that you were responsible for such a gruesome scene. Yet, you showed no remorse. You firmly believed it was the only solution, fed up with their destructive actions that brought ruin upon sorcerers deemed insignificant. You had accepted the notion that a problem without a remedy should be eradicated like an unwelcome weed.

On that day, he considered shaking your shoulders and demanding that you deny it all. He even contemplated going against everyone because what was the fucking point of wielding such power if he couldn't safeguard the woman he loved? The thought of quitting and escaping with you crossed his mind, too. He was willing to sacrifice everything: power, wealth, status, even his own life. However, you didn't desire any of those things.

His friend, Suguru Geto, once posed a question: Was he Satoru Gojo because he was the strongest, or was he the strongest because he was Satoru Gojo? At that time, he had no answer. A 17-year-old couldn't possibly find a response to such a profound question. However, when you entered his life, everything changed. Being the strongest lost its significance. He was just Satoru Gojo, and he was who he was because you loved him. His existence held meaning because you touched his life. He saw because he needed to gaze upon you. He spoke because he longed to hear your voice.

And then, similar to his best friend, after causing a bloodbath, you also walked out of his life. Yet, this time, it wasn't solely loneliness that engulfed him. It felt like one of his lungs had been taken away, and he heavied without you by his side through each passing moment. He became nothing once more. There was a hole in his life where you used to fit perfectly, and no matter what he did to try and fill it, nothing worked.

It was a strange anguish, a pain he never anticipated or conceived of. It consumed him from within, setting him ablaze with a profound emptiness. Then, defying the assumption that someone as formidable as him could experience sorrow, he was burdened with the task of erasing you. It was as if you were deemed nothing more than a blemish, a dishonor.

"What... what look?" he struggled to say, his voice tinged with a desperate yearning. Regret lingered in his tone as his words fell short. With a touch of vulnerability, he shut his eyes beneath the comforting confines of his blindfold, seeking refuge in the veil of darkness. Taking a deep breath, he consciously filled his lungs, using them as an anchor amidst the swirling storm of sensations enveloping him.

"That look," you remarked, your voice carrying a mischievous tone that floated in the atmosphere. "It's as if you don't trust me," you added teasingly. A few playful strands of hair escaped their intended position and delicately framed your face, casting a bewitching allure. An irresistible urge welled within him, compelling him to extend his hand and tuck those strands behind your ear—stupid muscle memory. However, he restrained himself, his hand suspended mid-air, resolute in resisting the magnetic pull of his desires.

"Why did you invite me here?" Satoru voiced, his grip on the doorknob loosening as the impact of reality settled upon him. The initial shock transformed into a lucid understanding. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that you were aware of his assignment to eliminate you. So, why? Was it because you recognized your unstoppable nature? Was it because you had realized that the blackhole existed within you, devouring everything you once held dear unless someone intervened?

"You could have refused to come, yet here you are," you whimsically remarked, a devilish glint in your eyes as you punctuated your words with a wink. You strolled over to the weathered table and set the pocket upon its aged surface.

"Cut it out!" Satoru snapped, his frustration mounting. "You know, I had no idea it was you!" His heart thumped in his chest, urging his feet to move forward, even as his mind screamed at him to flee. A sense of unease gripped him, acknowledging the futility of engaging in a battle he felt ill-prepared to win.

You turned towards him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as your hands stayed concealed behind your back. Leaning against the chair, you arched an eyebrow, your eyes locked on him. "I have a feeling you knew it was me as soon as you arrived at the house," you declared, a jovial tone lacing your words. "After all, I'm the only one capable of concealing my cursed energy from you."

"We both know that I shouldn't be here. I—" Satoru's sentence dissolved, left unfinished, as your hand reached out, bridging the gap between you with a gentle touch. Infinity never worked with you. Even the very essence of the cursed energy recognized that you posed no threat to him. Furthermore, he would gladly provide you with any justification to touch him.

Lost in his reverie, Satoru suddenly became acutely aware of your presence. The magnitude of his longing and the depth of his yearning surged within him. In that instant, he recognized the immense emptiness you had left and how much he had missed you. Emotions swirled together, blending past and present, uncertainty and desire, in a delicate dance that would shape your fates.

"Why are you here, then?" you inquired, and his eyes met yours, reflecting the same yearning that dwelled in his heart. "Tell me, did you come in to kill me?" With a deliberate movement, you folded his fingers, molding them into the shape he would use to unleash his hollow purple. Bringing his hand close to your heart, you held it there. Despite the gravity of the situation, a soft smile adorned your lips.

He couldn't do this.

Taken aback by your unexpected gesture, Satoru swiftly withdrew his hand from your grasp. Anger and heartbreak swirled within him, entwining in a tumultuous storm. The realization hit him like a relentless wave, crashing against the shores of his consciousness. How had you drifted so far apart? When had the divergence between your paths become so profound that he failed to notice? The weight of your choice, to embrace the life of a curse user, to tread a road stained with blood, bore down upon him with a heavy burden. The pain on his face mirrored the fracture within his heart, a sense of loss mingling with a flicker of betrayal.

He wished he could say something. He wished he could start yelling, expressing all the thoughts and desires he had harbored since then—whether shouting, pouring out his heart, or expressing frustration. However, he adhered to the predetermined script you anticipated because he loved you unconditionally, unable to deny you anything.

"I didn't think so," you murmured, closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his in a way that effortlessly eroded his resistance.

You tilted his face down, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling his blood with dangerous speed.

One of his hands naturally found its way to the back of your waist, holding you with a gentle yet possessive grasp, while the other securely clasped your arm, pulling you closer.

He felt incredible against you, your bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing ever came easier than kissing you. Every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

In that moment, his eyes, his legacy, his clan's name, and the orders given about you faded away. This was his true purpose.

As your tongues entwined, a surge of electricity coursed through his veins, his body responding to the intoxicating enchantment of your touch. Your fingers traced the outline of his blindfold while others clung to his uniform as if he were your sole fulcrum in a world spinning out of control. Your back arched, and he embraced you tighter, his grip firm yet tender, his long fingers leaving an indelible mark upon your skin.

Breathless, as if you had just completed a marathon, you reluctantly pulled back from the heated exchange. Drawing him nearer, he yielded willingly, allowing you to guide him wherever you desired because wherever you led was where he believed to be his destination.

"Take this off," you beseeched, desperation and sorrow permeating your words as your forefinger lifted his blindfold and let it fall to the floor. His tousled hair cascaded softly over his forehead, unable to hide the azure eyes that had once captivated your heart.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow.

He swallowed, and you shifted your hand to his ear, lightly grazing his earlobe with your pinkie before tracing down his jawline. There was no rejection, yet no clear confirmation either. Your hand brushed against his undercut as you continued.

"There you are," you whispered, your voice laden with kindness. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, a solitary droplet making its way down your cheek as you gently cradled his face in your hands. He looked down at you, counting each tear on your lovely cheeks.

He clasped your hand, kissing your palm before guiding it to rest upon his heart. It was the same foolish heart, steadfastly beating for you, never having faltered. Through teary eyes, you looked at him, and he remained struck by the sheer beauty that not even your tears could diminish.

As your bottom lip quivered beneath his touch, quickly, with a light sweep of his hand, he wiped away the tears that stained your stunning eyes. You missed him too, didn't you? Was it painful for you, too? Silly girl! You couldn't maintain your carefully constructed facades for more than ten minutes when it came to him.

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

Without a second thought, he effortlessly lifted you, your legs encircling his waist while your hands secured around his neck. Engrossed in a fervent kiss, both of you surrendered to the moment as he clasped your back firmly, pulling you closer to himself, relishing the flavor of your lips.

Letting go wasn't an option when every fiber of his being had missed you.

Determined and resolute, he carried you out to a room he presumed to be the bedroom, even though it didn't matter whether there was a bed or a simple mattress; what mattered was the way your touch kindled a blazing fire within him, and he had no intention of bearing that flame alone.

Keeping you securely nestled in his arms, he forcefully kicked open the door and lowered you onto the welcoming comfort of the bed. The urgency to discard his black jacket left no room for delay. At the same time, your nimble hands deftly undid the buckle of your pants, but before you could remove them entirely, his hands moved with an instinctual hunger, swiftly stripping you of the garment and casting it aside as if propelled by an untamed fervor. The passion between you burned fiercely, filling the room with an all-encompassing energy that eclipsed any other thoughts or worries.

With a quick movement, he discarded his black t-shirt, revealing the well-defined curves of his chest that shimmered with a touch of sweat. His desire was tangible, his lust unmistakable as he straddled between your parted legs, his hands grasping your nape.

The taste of his lips met yours, initiating a sequence of fervent kisses that persisted without pause, each delving deeper than the last. The world around you lost its significance as your breaths synchronized in rhythm, the heat between your bodies escalating.

In the meantime, your hands moved swiftly, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

As his lips briefly separated from yours, he uttered a whispered confession. "I hate how bad I want you," he admitted, his voice carrying a raw sincerity. However, before you could reply, his attention shifted to your neck, where his teeth gently grazed your sensitive flesh, leaving behind tracks of tantalizing nibbles and passionate kisses.

You couldn't help but release a gasp as pleasure and a twinge of pain electrified your senses, sending delightful shivers coursing down your spine. In the throes of passion, your hand curled into a fistful of his hair, a silent request for more. Call it masochist, but he loved it when you did this. He tenderly pulled at your hair in response, tilting your head back ever so slightly, baring more of your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth.

Then, you did what came naturally to you. With a voice brimming with longing and ecstasy, you spoke his name, "Satoru," the sound slipping from your lips like a hushed prayer.

His actions came to an abrupt pause. His lips separated from your skin, and his grasp on your hair loosened as if a sudden realization had hit him like a splash of icy water. It was ironic how you still possessed this power over him, a power that could both thrill and unsettle him.

The sound of his name on your lips had become something he treasured, and damn it, he had missed hearing it again. Just like every fucking tiny thing he had missed about you.

With a sudden movement, he withdrew his head from the crook of your neck and brought his forehead close to yours. His hands found solace in brushing back strands of your hair with comforting strokes.

He shut his eyes, and in a whisper, his voice carried a hint of fragility, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings. "Say it again," he pleaded, his voice breaking under the pressure of unexpressed sentiments. It was as if that simple word held immense significance, a lifeline to his heart that he desperately craved.

Without hesitation, you took a steadying breath, the name forming on your lips.

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you wanna tell me you miss me."

"Satoru…"

"Say it as if you're annoyed that I eat so many sweets."

"Satoru!"

"Is this why you made the trip to Sendai just to get me those mochis?"

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you ever cared, spared a single thought for me."

"SATORU."

"Say it as if when you lied in bed, you remembered something I once said."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if it hurt you too when someone said my name with yours."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if every time a door opened, you too expected me to walk out of it, that every time you cooked, you hummed my favorite songs."

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

"Say it as if you want to tell me something important."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you won't stay."

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you're gonna run away again."

"Satoru…"

"Huh. Better. Now say it as if you wanna tell that you slept badly without me, that you only dreamed of me, and in the morning, you woke up exhausted without having any desire to live."

"Satoru."

"You don't have a line, do you? No remorse. No regret. Not even a single thought for the man you left behind like a walking ghost. And you won't ever stop."

"Satoru."

"Once you were gone, they gathered all your belongings as evidence. See this hair tie on my wrist?" He lifted his hand. "This and your sweatshirt, which no longer carries your scent, are the only things I have left. Say it as if you still have that shirt of mine."

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

"Did you know that I actually thought if I messed myself up, went all self-destructive, and threw a massive tantrum, you'd come back? I mean, why should I bother taking care of myself? That was supposed to be your job, right?"

"Sa…toru."

"Oh, by the way, I completely wrecked that bench on the hill where you used to sit. And then I went ahead and destroyed the whole damn place, then just sat right there amidst the wreckage. I mean, why should I even give a damn when you stopped caring about me? Say it as if you get where I'm coming from."

"Satoru…"

"Yet you know what's funny? Ask me if I still love you like the first day?"

"Satoru?"

"It can't be just me, right? You can't be done with me. Tell me you love me."

…

"Okay. It's—"

"Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru…"

Everything he thought he knew flew right out the window. He had noticed the tremor in your breath and the shake in your voice, but the desperate murmurs of his name caused his eyes to flutter open. Your face was marked with the faint traces of tears, glistening in the light.

You blinked, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty unlike anything he'd seen before. The ability to convey so much with just a glance caught him entirely off guard.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the curve of your cheeks, softly caressing them. Nuzzling his nose against your skin, he lovingly kissed away the salty tears, his tongue delicately brushing your face with a soothing touch. Each tender movement provided a comforting solace during your emotional moment.

As he lovingly attended to your tears, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. However, before any words could escape, you leaned in and kissed him. In that single gesture, you conveyed your desires, and he, in turn, found his answer within the depths of that passionate kiss.

As soon as his palms glided over your smooth skin, delicately capturing your erect nipple between his fingers, the bra was tossed somewhere amidst the bedding.

"Lie back," Satoru instructed. He then crawled onto you, your bare chests meeting. He supported himself with his arms on either side of your head to ensure he didn't crush you under his weight.

He positioned himself atop you, overwhelmed by the yearning that had built up in your absence. The thirst to have you beneath him had grown insurmountable. He had craved the sight of your body begging him to take you, the undeniable desire radiating from you.

He locked eyes with you, keeping you in his gaze as he absorbed every aspect of your beauty. The polished planes of your face shimmered with fresh tears, adding a new layer to the bliss. Your eyes were rimmed with redness, solely for him, and this sight rendered him speechless.

Because what if he accidentally stumbled upon the wrong words, and the magic vanished, snatching you away once more, leaving him with nothing but a pumpkin carriage and a single pair of shoes?

He didn't want his arms to be deprived of your warmth. Your touch. Your lips. God, your lips. Your mouth on his neck. Your body wrapped around his. He couldn't bear losing you again, and the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into him.

Blinking his white lashes, he swallowed back the fear building in his throat.

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

With his knee between your thighs and his body pressing closer, he realized he was paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in his lungs.

"When we were together, I became you," he stated. "You became the reflection I saw in the mirror, and I liked it more. So, I stopped being myself. It was fine because I had you. But when you left, I lost myself along with you."

"Satoru," you called, your voice soft, so soft. He wasn't unfamiliar with the touch of women, but yours were gentler, yet deadlier than them all. "I'm sorry for bringing us to this point." You drew his form closer. The resonating beats of your heart were audible, pulsing deeply within your chest. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your words unleashed a tumult of feelings within him. Goddammit. He wasn't lost before he met you, but he found himself after having you, only to get lost more after losing you.

Satoru's tears stung as they fell backward down his throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, and I'll forget everything," he uttered.

And you complied. You kissed him as if swimming through rivers of honey, as if being dipped in pure gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss, and he didn't realize you two were drowning because he was too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing held significance anymore—neither rules, nor the room, nor even the entire fucking Jujutsu society.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This very moment. These lips. This delicate body pressed against his, and these warm hands always discovering new ways to hold his heart.

Oh, My!

He wanted so much more of you. He wanted every part of you. And he kissed you back. Like a mild breeze. Like cherry blossoms. Like a blue spring.

Again.

Satoru drew away. It remained a secret, but piecing himself back together hurt just as much as falling apart. It felt like an ache that needed to be soothed.

You were the cure, so his finger lightly grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, curves, and subtle crevices. As he kissed the corner of your eyebrow, he whispered your name. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, causing a slight squirm in your body. He planted a kiss on your neck, just beneath your earlobe, and you tilted your head, inviting him in. Perhaps you resisted the urge to plead for more, for a faster pace.

You used to love this, remember?

His lips moved down the expanse of your neck, delicately tracing the sensitive skin of your collarbones. Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, roaming over his broad shoulders, pressing into his back dimples, and clutching his hips. With a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer, leaving small kisses on his neck, arms, and chest.

It was incredible. Being with you, touching you, having you like this. The adrenaline rush was so powerful and euphoric that it made everything feel within reach.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking.

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

He planted kisses beneath your chin, on the tip of your nose, along your forehead, temples, and cheeks across your jawline. Then he moved to your neck, behind your ears, and the space between your breasts. Delicately, he nibbled on your sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly, his chest was hovering above your hips.

As his lips descended towards the hem of your underwear, he lifted his head right before crossing that boundary, locking eyes with you. His gaze carried a mix of intense reverence and a silent question.

You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Your nod conveyed an affirmation, a wordless permission to continue. With your approval, he lowered his head once again. Before you knew it, he skillfully used his teeth to remove that small piece of fabric while the captivating scent drove him wild with desire.

Having removed your panties, his lips continued exploring, leaving heated kisses and lingering caresses from your toes to your thighs. Firmly holding your calves, he parted your legs, creating just enough space for his head to fit between them.

Your thighs were lifted, obscuring him from your sight. All you could see was the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that view vanished as his lips closed around your clit, causing your head to fall back and muffled moans to escape your lips.

Satoru's large hands trailed down and up your exposed upper thighs and ribs, tightly gripping your hips to keep you in place. He delighted in how you squirmed each time his hair brushed against your groin, until his tongue slipped into your hole, and the taste of you made fireworks explode in the back of his head.

With his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue danced and teased, evoking ecstatic cries from your lips. His mouth explored the known territories you had never witnessed, yet he remembered them intimately.

While fully engrossed in eating you, he suddenly and intentionally slipped his middle finger inside, and his mouth fervently sought to suck the soul out of your essence as if seeking retribution for all the times he had jerked off thinking about you creaming around his shaft. That's why he left you on the precipice of climax, working his way up your body. Satoru was never cruel enough to deny you the release you craved, so his fingers remained ready.

With an eagerness to witness the pleasure etched across your face, he slowly ascended your body, his touch kindling a burning anticipation within you. Continuing his exploration, his adept fingers navigated their way to your most intimate region, gently pressing against the delicate entrance.

"Let me know if it hurts, alright?" he whispered, his nose caressing the skin of your stomach, placing sporadic kisses around your breasts and collarbones to alleviate any tension. His disheveled hair and moist lips were evidence of the indulgence in your sweet taste.

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

He wore a satisfied smile as two of his large fingers effortlessly slid into your slit. Your nails dug into the sheets, whimpers escaping your lips as his hand rhythmically moved up and down within your tight walls.

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan, and he peppered you with kisses all around. Tears glistened in your eyes, and tiny strands of hair clung to your sweaty forehead. When his thumb rubbed, and the fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You firmly grasped his free arm and tugged him towards you, bringing him closer until he was on top of you. You might have turned into a cold-blooded curse user, left dead bodies behind, or broken his heart apart, but you were still the same girl beneath him. The girl who would laugh with joy and steal his treats. The girl who would fiercely fight by his side and protect him. The girl who would easily surrender and moan in his ear.

He pressed his lips against yours, a reminder of the residual sweetness on his tongue. Just like in the old days, a soft moan escaped your lips as soon as you felt your own taste. If this gesture could convince you to stay with him, why not revel in it? He willingly opened his lips, inviting you to delve deeper, your tongues intertwining and brushing against his teeth.

The stinging bitterness of the past was long gone. He had forgotten everything. Although there was something he knew he shouldn't forget, he couldn't recall why or what it was. With his hard length suffering in his boxers and his digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

Seeing your desperation for his touch proved to be his downfall. He could die from this, he decided. From wanting you, from the pleasure of being with you.

He wore a smile as you locked eyes and reciprocated with your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin flushed with heat. With his other hand, he held your head steady while your hands clutched his neck, your palms gliding over the area just above his neckline, and your fingertips tenaciously pressing against his undercut.

"Sato..." you managed to utter, your voice quivering with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you, consuming your senses. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body, inducing uncontrollable tremors. Amidst your release, a single tear broke free, tracing a glistening path down your cheek, much like the cascade of emotions that flowed within you.

While he remained atop you, his voice reached your ears, his lips near your earlobe. "Can you sit up?" he whispered, burying his face in the curve of your neck, allowing your ragged breaths to brush against his shoulder.

Still struggling to catch your breath, you managed to mumble, "Yeah, but..." However, before you could complete your sentence, the bedding beneath you shifted as Satoru pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight.

He exhaled and looked at you, but this time, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things he had never told you. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a fraying thread—you.

He touched your flushed cheeks as if uncertain of your tangible presence. His four fingers caressed the side of your face with tenderness before sliding behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

He pondered the countless things your lips had done. They had touched, kissed, and pressed against sensitive areas of his skin. They had spoken lies and made promises, and the words they had formed, the shapes and sounds they had shaped, he yearned for them all.

Satoru inched closer, cradling you like you were made of precious crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands as if he couldn't believe you were real and truly there.

"I'm right here, baby. Look at me," you whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them.

All six of his eyes obeyed and stared at you. Gone was the curse user targeting Higher Ups. This woman before him had never done anything wrong. You were perfect and kind, untouched by the horrors of death.

He took hold of your hands and pressed your palms against his face, reclaiming the tears you had bestowed upon him. With an eternity of love, he whispered your name in the softest of whispers.

What if this was a dream?

He shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and you embraced him like no one had before. Overwhelmed by the intensity, he struggled to contain himself, but seeing you cling to him as you might never let go stirred something within him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that you were there, caring for him, desiring him, needing him in this way. It made him believe that this was indeed real.

Gently, you stroked his silvery locks of hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gradually, your arms became the arms around his neck; your lips became the lips pressed against his, your body the warmth he felt. Funny how the moment he felt your touch, it burned a hole right through his head and pulled all his thoughts out.

He wasn't even breathing, but he was alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. His hands fervently caressed the small of your back as he lifted you onto his lap, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his hips.

Then, it was your turn to reciprocate. You planted kisses all over him—his cheeks, eyelids, chin, the tip of his nose, and the space between his eyebrows. You trailed along his forehead and traced his jawline, covering every inch of his face. These kisses conveyed more than words ever could.

And you took your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he let out a gasp. It was a moment to relish. Your tongue continued to worship the hills and valleys of his well-defined arms, tracing the graceful curves of his collarbones. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, you savored his taste. Your hands explored his abs, tracing along his navel and the delicate trails of hair beneath.

He broke apart with your small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at you dumbfounded. His mind remained hazy, unable to fully comprehend how your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Tilting your head to a side, you pressed your lips against his again, seeking him with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. Your other hand threaded in his hair, your lips so soft, so urgent against his, like fire and cinnamon exploding in his mouth.

Satoru nibbled your bottom lip in a flash before pulling back slightly. You were flooding his body with so much heat and desire. You parted your lips to sigh in his mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove him to the edge of madness.

Just as he was about to bring his mouth to your nipples, your hand suddenly slipped into his underwear and encircled his erectness pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

He clenched his teeth, suppressing a groan. Oh God! He had fucking missed you holding his member in your palm. But you didn't stop at that. He gasped as you began to rub the tip with your thumb. His body ached everywhere as he tasted the colors and sounds that existed nowhere else. Your forehead rested against his chin as you continued to stroke his hardness up and down beneath his boxers. You were untamed, cruel, yet remarkably gentle.

"Take it off, Satoru," you whispered in his ear, your breath ragged. "I want you in me. Deep. Right. Now. Please."

He was beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way he was feeling right now. He was left with only this very moment: You on his lap, your warmth against his hands, and your lustful eyes fixed upon him, making him absolutely insane.

Satoru held onto your waist with a firm grip, lifting you slightly, and in the blink of an eye, his briefs glided down his long legs until their whereabouts became irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

The wetness between your thighs was no longer a hidden secret, just as his hardness was revealed when you surrounded each other everywhere.

He watched as you reached down and guided his erection against your slippery entrance, making a few strokes to ensure the perfect alignment. His racing pulse could probably be felt in your palm and soon inside you.

Using both hands, he gripped your hips and pulled you downward, drawing you closer to him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, always surprised about his size. He intended to allow you time to adjust, but you fervently clung to his neck, hitching your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you completely. A scream escaped your lips as you bit into his shoulder blade, but he remained composed, relishing the sensation of stretching you. He cherished the feeling of your inner walls squeezing him and the weight of your body against his balls. To be honest, he would stay like this forever.

Feeling your readiness, his hold tightened, and he started moving your body up and down. You cried out as you nestled your cheek into the curve of his neck, and he felt like dying and somehow being brought back to life in the exact moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He raised your thighs, stifling a groan that threatened to rip his throat as your lips met his. It left him bewildered, pondering why he hadn't perished, burst into flames, or snapped in half.

The room was consumed by silence, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breaths. Your chests pressed against each other, colliding with the rhythm of your pulses.

As he sensed your arms tightening around him, he reciprocated with heightened strength, lifting and thrusting you with an intensity that transcended the bounds of restraint. Each movement struck the place he knew too well.

His teeth captured your bottom lip, eliciting a momentary jolt of pleasure. Your nails pressed into his shoulder as his fingers ran through your hair, pulling you nearer, immersing you in the fervent abyss of his mouth. The taste of you was a captivating fusion of sweetness and passion, an intoxicating blend that left both of you craving for more.

He kept trying to say your name, but he found himself unable even to catch his breath, let alone speak a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down and traveling quietly down your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, touching your tongue and the saliva within. It was as if he had discovered an oasis in the vast expanse of a desert, gazing at you with eyes ablaze like fire reflected in water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile and uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lasting essence of pleasure in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your heads spun into a blissful oblivion.

Your head rested against his, and as you delicately nipped at his earlobe, he felt stripped down to his very core, just as he had unraveled you from within. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Something inside him melted. Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You belonged to him. You didn't erase the pain you had caused. You didn't fix everything you'd broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. All he needed was you, and with you, everything would be alright.

He firmly grasped your buttocks, burying his face against your shoulder as he sped up. He was shattered to pieces, but with you, he got put back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. Gritting his teeth, he succumbed to the impending climax. His hands glided along your back as you shuddered, your inner walls pulsating around him so hard that he couldn't hold back his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice, until everything around you both turned to a world of vibrant colors and radiant light, where the sun shone, oceans sparkled, and Sakura trees bloomed.

Both of you were lying on a pillow, breathless and sweaty. Satoru's face was buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand had delicately weaved its way into his hair, fingers stroking the silky strands as you both sought to ground yourself in the aftermath of your orgasms.

You rested your cheek against his head, your voice carrying a hint of breathlessness as you began to speak. "How is Shoko doing?

"She's probably smoking even more now," he murmured, his lips grazing against your shoulder as he pulled you closer. Despite the physical closeness, a deep ache echoed within him, yearning for an even deeper connection that felt just beyond his grasp. The desire to merge both body and soul, to be completely intertwined with you, was tangible in his touch.

His arms tightened around you as if attempting to bridge an unseen gap that couldn't be seen, but he could feel it. Each hug and touch was an attempt to mend the distance that pained him. The depth of his need reverberated through his being. It was visible in the depths of his eyes. It sucked to be this close yet feel so far from someone. But he didn't want to worry. As long as you were together, he believed nothing terrible could happen.

"Why probably so?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you turned your head towards him. Your lips touched his soft, silky white hair. "Is it because of the numerous missions you're taking?"

"You seem to know every detail of my life," he remarked, turning his head towards you, the closeness so intimate that your noses nearly touched. His hand found its way to your arm, his finger tracing a path down its length, lost in contemplation.

"I've always kept tabs on you. I'm not even ashamed of it," you declared, your attention fixed on his ocean-blue eyes.

He let out a shaky sigh. "There's no longer a reason for me to stay in Tokyo like I used to," he whispered, his voice hinting at wistfulness. The words floated in the air, pregnant with unspoken meanings. As he locked eyes with you, his gaze transformed into a sea of emotions, reflecting a profound depth of feelings that transcended mere words.

"What about your students?"

"They're doing well even without me," Satoru said, his voice filled with fondness and melancholy. As his hand gracefully slid into your hair, he tucked back the strands that obscured your face, revealing the beauty of your features.

His thumb stroked your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Megumi came close to expanding his domain," Satoru continued, his voice filled with a hint of excitement. "Yuji would be thrilled to—"

"No, Satoru!" you interjected, your voice resolute. Your firm interruption halted his sentence as your face displayed a frown, your eyebrows furrowing with determination. "The answer is no!"

Satoru's hand dropped weakly onto the sheets, his fingers losing their previous touch. When his gaze met yours, a deep sadness flooded his eyes, turning the serene ocean within them into a turbulent storm.

He struggled to find the right words to make his case but couldn't resist trying to reason with you. "Come back with me. I have enough power and privilege to protect you—"

"I don't want your protection!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through his being. The words resounded with a harshness reminiscent of the day you decided to leave, which had left an indelible mark on both of you. It was a day that Satoru had always blamed himself for, haunted by the belief that he had failed to notice you drifting away.

His eyes, filled with sorrow, locked onto yours, silently begging for understanding as he summoned the bravery to express his deepest desires. "Don't you want a life with me?" he questioned, his voice brimming with the dreams and aspirations he had envisioned for both of you. "What about living in a house with blue shutters, windows overlooking the ocean, and—"

"How are you still such a wide-eyed, dreamy little boy, Satoru?" you remarked, your voice tinged with tenderness and sadness. As you spoke, your hand extended, interlocking your fingers with his. "Stop living in a fantasy world," you urged. The words pleaded for him to accept reality and let go of dreams no longer aligned with his chosen path. "Even if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't want to," you continued. "The Jujutsu society is a broken bone that won't set right, and no matter how much you try to mend it, it won't work. I started hunting Higher Ups because I have a purpose. I can't be by your side."

As you raised your head, a glimmer of compassion and understanding shimmered in your eyes. The pain etched on Satoru's face was evident to you. In a gentle tone, you encouraged him, saying, "We've made different choices. Don't judge me because I never questioned why you didn't follow me. Our approaches may differ, but we share the same dream of creating a better world. So, I don't regret leaving, but if there's anything I regret, it's not cherishing every moment I had with you. But I'm doing it right this time. I'm memorizing every detail, so I have something to hold onto."

Your words bounced around in the fog of his head, blurring his senses, misting his eyes, and muddling his logic. In his bones, there was just ice. His entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped him in the face, punched him in the jaw, and dumped him into the ocean.

Until today, he thought he had fully come to terms with everything. He believed he had adapted to living with your absence, like a disabled person learning to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. However, deep down, he knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble.

But with your answer, stacks of sorrow grew inside him, settling on his bones as if a cable had twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

He realized how foolish he had been to believe he could simply blend in and lead an ordinary life.

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

He shook his head, coughing as his lungs were tormented, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission. His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. With clenched fists, he fought against the misery, forcing it back down. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, and a thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. Realizing how deeply he loved you kept hitting him in the face, the skull, and the spine. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, displaying signs of wanting to scream, to break something, as if he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

You hugged him, bridging the gap between your bodies and leaning your cheek against his rock-hard chest. Your hands caressed his stomach as your lips left random pecks here and there.

"It's not just your shirt that I have," you expressed. "I also have our shared blanket from our room and a collection of photographs I'm too afraid to look at. I fear that if I see them, I'll go right back to you and beg your forgiveness."

You dropped a kiss on his chin. Then, on the curve of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. Five kisses down his throat, each softer than the last. You kissed his cheeks, hands, and eyelids for every moment of loneliness he had ever endured.

You continued, "My body hasn't realized we are no longer together. It calls out for you at night, unaccustomed to not having you tightly enveloping me like a second layer of skin."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "Why are you putting me through this?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "Why are you scratching my wounds?"

"Because I want to remake you again, Satoru. You should get broken apart and rebuild in a way that won't cause you pain anymore." You kissed the hand covering his mouth, not holding back. Keeping your head there, you leaned against his heart.

"It's not as straightforward as a simple yes or no," you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. "Let's just enjoy this moment together..."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with sadness.

He shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes open, jaw clenched tightly, and muscles tense. Breathing heavily, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful.

You lifted your head and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Love is the most twisted curse," you murmured as you tilted his chin toward your mouth. He blinked rapidly. Words were whispered upon his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "And we are the most cursed of all, aren't we?" you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him again. Tenderly.

Unable to find the right words, he relied on the language of touch, pressing his lips against yours. A sigh escaped into your shared kiss, and you responded by kissing him even more passionately, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. The taste of salt lingered on your tongues. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made his flesh burn. Unsure of whose tears they were, he continued to cling to you, even if it was almost for the final time.

The saddest world in this whole wide world was "almost." You almost came back to him. He almost had you. You two almost made it.

You woke up with a smile, feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping your skin, remnants of the memories from the previous night. The room was filled with a fresh ambiance, hinted at by the open window that welcomed a gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth filled the air, evidence of the rain that had visited during the night.

Letting out a sigh, you brushed your face against the pillow. Your hand instinctively reached out to where Satoru was supposed to be, but a pang of emptiness washed over you. He wasn't there, and your eyes flew open, a sourness clouding their once-serene gaze. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, sitting up, a sense of panic pulsed through your veins. The realization dawned upon you—Satoru had left the bed, and his absence spoke volumes. Your glance darted around the room, searching for any signs of his presence, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

An agonizing grip took hold of your heart. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside you. You had voiced your decision to part ways, to not be by his side, yet the depth of your desire for him remained steadfast. The pain and the desperate desire for his warmth was a stark reminder that not wanting to be with him didn't mean you were prepared to let go of him completely.

The bitter yet undeniable truth surfaced: as much as you and Satoru were meant to be, fate had not deemed you to last.

You could still feel the lasting presence of Satoru's cursed energy, an invisible thread you could identify even blind. Simply by scent, you would recognize it. It was a power that transcends physical senses, one that would recognize it in death, at the end of the world.

You swiftly snatched your robe and hastened out of the room. And there he was, Satoru, fully dressed, his blindfold tightly secured, sitting still in a chair, facing the untouched mochis. The hair tie was also on the table, indicating that he had removed it from his wrist. You couldn't determine whether it hurt you deeply to see him letting go of a part of you or noticing that he had left his beloved treats untouched.

He wasn't looking at you, so you had time to observe things you hadn't noticed yesterday. He had visibly lost weight. His hair showed signs of splitting and thinning, probably due to stress. Nightmares didn't let him sleep. His uniform appeared wrinkled, and his breaths were unsteady. You knew it wasn't your place to worry about him anymore, but you couldn't help it. Taking care of him had become a habit. He appeared weary, displaying the same profound exhaustion you experienced, filling you with fear.

His shoulders quivered up and down, and you could tell he was crying even though he was silent as a corpse. Your heart quickened as you approached him. With trembling hands, you reached for his blindfold, a desperate attempt because, goddammit, you fucking loved his eyes.

"What are you—" you started to inquire, your voice fading as you recognized that your touch couldn't reach him. He had activated his Infinity. Manually. Deliberately. A wave of profound sadness washed over you, tears welling up in your eyes, yet you swallowed them back, resolved to keep your composure. Your hand hung suspended, mere inches away from him, a symbol of the unbridgeable gap that had grown between you.

Then, in a sudden movement, Satoru stood before you, donning a black jacket that draped his figure. His voice emerged raspy, filled with a raw intensity that conveyed the turmoil within his heart.

"I can't handle this anymore. I can't continue being whatever I am to you," he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of resignation. The understanding that the current situation was no longer viable had taken hold of him. "If you want things to remain this way, I can't ignore the fact that we are enemies at the end of the day." He subtly avoided meeting your gaze, averting his eyes from your messy hair and the persistent sadness in your eyes.

"Can you honestly believe that?" you questioned, your voice brimming with incredulity. You took a step forward, narrowing the physical gap between you. It was essential for him to grasp the magnitude of your anguish and directly witness the toll your choice inflicted upon your heart.

Satoru took a step back, his brows furrowing beneath the blindfold that veiled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I believe," he declared.

Despite the barrier that prevented physical touch, you closed your eyes, driven by the overwhelming desire to bridge the divide. Ignoring the protective shield of his Infinity, you leaned in, your lips seeking his in a desperate act of defiance. Tears streamed down your closed eyes as he relinquished the barrier that kept you apart. You pressed your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to respond, to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his hand while his other embraced you tightly. He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy.

You held each other tightly, his arms enveloping you as his fingers intertwined with your hair. In that stolen moment, you caught a glimpse of the life you longed for—a life filled with love. Having this every day was within reach, but the harsh reality of the jujutsu world loomed, casting a shadow over your fragile dreams. The awareness that he would be exploited until his final breath burdened you deeply. Unable to witness his suffering, you knew you couldn't change your decisions. You had to reset this Jujutsu World. For him. For his students. For the happiness you owed yourself.

As your lips reluctantly separated, a bittersweet trace of saliva remained between you. Satoru gripped your shoulders, and as you glanced up, you noticed his blindfold was damp, indicating the tears he had shed.

You lowered your head. "I wish you had never crossed paths with me," you murmured, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground until he reached out and lifted your chin.

"I wouldn't take that chance. Not in a million infinities. Because there was love, even if it didn't change anything, even if it made the pain worse, love was there," he said, staring at your mouth. "I'll love you in this life. I'll love you in death and in whatever lies after. And likely even beyond that," he whispered. The words did something to you. They burned something inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "No matter what, I'll always love you," he declared, and pain filled your veins. You could feel it in your blood.

"Satoru," you whispered. Your eyes fogged up, but you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away. You couldn't let a second of this be blurry. You couldn't afford to allow any of this to slip away. His absence felt like a missing limb, and his longing for you was a bullet in the head. How could he still love you? How could he find relief in your touch?

"But if we meet again," he said, his thumb brushing against your earlobe. "Just kill me. Because I'll be forced to kill you, and it's the same thing." As if the longer he held you, the more he would want you, he let go of you.

The enormity of his duty and the unyielding constraints of the jujutsu world, forcing him to make an unbearable choice, hit you like a cold gust of wind, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. The chill of that moment seeped into your bones, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same frigid loneliness when you had left him behind.

Satoru walked towards the door, each step carrying the finality of his decision that settled upon the room. Pausing at the threshold, a silent plea lingered in his words. "So, please, I beg you to stay away from me." With those words, he severed the last thread that had linked you, leaving you with a deep sense of loss.

The door closed behind him, leaving you in an empty and heavy space with unspoken regret. You were alone again, bereft without him, half dead without him. You opened your mouth and screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately so that you could escape this feeling.

No one ever warned you how men with such pretty eyes, who smelled like vanilla, tasted like rain, and talked like silver, were the reason behind tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems, and so many sad dreams.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

It seemed like Satoru Gojo's story had peaked, and anything that followed wouldn't hold the same significance to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you. For some reason, he never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and he was in it. He would be in it forever.

Moving forward, he silently implored his bones to remain firm, to support him for the remainder of the day and beyond. He ventured through the forest, his steps disturbing the mud and leaves as his footprints gradually faded away until there was nothing but the empty silence of a long, lonely dusk.

Tag list: @istanuwow @anime-lover1234 @rentaldarling @enchantedforest-network

Disclaimers:

This creation draws significant inspiration from the incredible artistry of @animaybi (TikTok) and features quotes from the captivating writings of @starlightonthewaves (TikTok). Both of these talented artists deserve immense praise for their remarkable contributions.

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 22 days

Text

Worship You

Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Main Masterlist

GIF Source: Papa-Evershed @papa-evershed

Summary: You’re feeling a little nervous and insecure about your postpartum body, Frank just wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). Mentions of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum AFAB body. New mom insecurities and fears. Lactation kink, oral (F receiving), fingering, protected P in V, use of lube. Pet names (baby, sweetheart, mama)

WC: 2600

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Four and a half months, that’s how long it had been since you’d given birth to the precious angel that was your daughter. It was the best day of your life and changed so many things so quickly.

Particularly, your body. You were so proud of it; growing and carrying a life for 9 months, enduring 14 hours of labor and delivery, producing daily nutrition to feed this tiny human you loved so dearly. You lamented all the times in your youth when you would pick and pull at your skin, over analyzing the ways your body could “improve” and wishing to abide more by the over photoshopped standards you saw in magazines. How foolish you were.

Now you loved your body. She was a warrior. A Goddess.

But still, even with your new found appreciation for her, it was difficult some days to not feel like a stranger in your own skin. You knew pregnancy and birth would bring about irreversible changes to your body. But nothing could have prepared you for the emotional wave of grief and confusion that came with all the new feelings and quirks that come with life after pregnancy.

Which was probably why you had been avoiding having sex.

Sure sex had been uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy, you and Frank inventing the most insane positions just to find a comfortable way to do it. Your body had already changed so much then, but even more so now. Would he still love you like he used to? Would the things you used to enjoy still feel good? Would there be any pain?

You’d been cleared at your 8 week postpartum appointment to move forward with all sexual activity, but still had put it off.

Frank, of course, never pushed the issue. In fact he never brought it up at all, too tired and busy doting on your daughter and making sure your recovery went smoothly. Daily, you got to witness the strength and determination he showed to welcome this second chance despite the demons of his past. He was the epitome of a perfect father and partner, which only turned you on and made you love him even more.

“Ithinkweshouldhavesextonight” you finally blurted out one morning, need for intimate connection and relief outweighing the anxiety.

Frank had just gotten your daughter down for a nap and was at the kitchen sink washing out your pumping equipment.

He turned around so casually to face you and leaned against the counter, as if you had just asked him what the weather was. God, did he have to look so sexy when he was just existing?

He looked you up and down and with an eyebrow corked replied softly “Yeah? That somethin’ you’re ready for?”

You were still reeling from the shock of actually saying it out loud and stuttered out “I… I think so.”

Frank nodded calmly.

“Okay.”

And then he was back to his task without another word.

He didn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, going through the evening routine of dinner, diaper changes, and bathtime with your daughter as he normally would.

Meanwhile, your nerves were on edge, half with anxiety, half with anticipation.

The last feeding of the night was done and your daughter drifted to sleep in your arms as you rocked her. You gingerly set her down in her bassinet, careful not to wake her and have to start the whole routine again.

It was typical to find Frank leaning in the door frame of the nursery, happily observing the site of his family. So you weren’t surprised when you turned around and found him standing there with a grin plastered across his face.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey big guy.”

“You still feeling up to…” he asked

“Yeah,” You nodded. “C’mon let's go to the bedroom.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

“I got somethin’ for you first.”

The bathtub was to the brim with bubbles. Based on the aroma in the air, you could tell it was the good kind you liked to buy at cute little boutiques in Brooklyn and not the Johnson and Johnson brand you used for your daughter’s baths.

Frank pressed his chest to your back and placed a gentle kiss to your crown.

“Gotta get you relaxed first.”

Docile fingers danced under the hem of the shirt you wore; a dingy, grey henley that once belonged to him, as he slowly began to undress you.

You silently cursed at yourself for not putting on something sexier earlier. Not that any of your old lingerie fit you, but anything more put together than this would have been better.

“Where’s that brain of yours goin’ now?”

Goddamnit how could he read you so well?

“Just wishing I put a little more effort in to seducing you.”

“Eh, you know you don’t need nothin’ fancy to do that.”

The kisses he peppered to your now exposed shoulder sent a shiver up your spine as he continued.

“My woman’s so goddamn pretty, it’s been torture keeping my hands to myself.”

Frank’s plan worked wonders as you found yourself emerging from a half-hour in the scented warm water feeling relaxed and floaty.

He was waiting for you in the bedroom, wearing nothing but clean grey sweatpants that rode low to tease and tantalize you. Good to know he still remembered just what you liked.

He eyed you up and down as you walked towards him, closing the gap between you and pulling you flush to him.

A gentle hand ran down your cheek as you lovingly gazed into each other's eyes.

“Okay, here’s how this is gonna go,” he said “I’m gonna go nice and slow,”

You let out a huff, which caused Frank’s eyebrows shoot up.

“And you’re not gonna whine about it.”

“Fine.” you conceded

“If at any point, anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable, even a little, you tell me and we stop. You got that?”

You nodded your head gently, leaning into the hand he still had resting where your jaw and neck meet.

“Atta girl.”

His lips were soft when they met yours, gentle but not hesitant. He took care to guide you backwards and sit you down on the bed gingerly.

It always fascinated you how hands that inflicted so much violence and death could show you such tenderness and love, could provide so much pleasure. Even moreso now seeing how docile he was with your newborn.

The tie of your robe undid easily and the soft fabric fell off your shoulders and pooled in your lap, exposing you to him.

His eyes were full of reverence as he once again stared at you, admiring with a boyish grin before he dove in and covered your skin in the sweetest of kisses. Each meeting of his lips to your shoulders, your neck, your chest was the rising sun of spring, reigniting your body from hibernation.

His nimble fingers gently grabbed at your breast as he continued tracing his lips across you, giving it a small squeeze before twirling your nipple under his thumb.

It was just enough stimulation to release a few small drips of milk, followed by a tiny stream.

You pushed at his shoulder to get him off and attempted to stop the liquid with a bit of your robe.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought about pumping before we got started, but I was hoping maybe she had enough before bed that it’d be alright.”

“It’s okay baby.” Frank practically whispered, swiping at the opaque fluid with his thumb.

“They sore?” he asked

“A little.”

“Can I help?”

You practically felt a flood rush between your legs at his request and nodded eagerly.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before you. His breath was hot against your skin as he licked all the way up from your ribcage to your nipple, gathering the warm nectar on his tongue.

He hummed in satisfaction as he took your nipple fully into his mouth. The divine mix of building pleasure and sweet relief filled your body as he began to suckle, soft pouty lips encompassing your breast.

Big hands wrapped around your lower back, pressing indents into your skin with his calloused fingers as he held you close to him, his eyes now squeezed shut as he continued to nurse.

You threw your head back, groaning at the borderline overwhelm of feelings that ripped through your body.

Frank laid you down slowly, upper lips dragging along your skin as he released your breast and began to kiss down, allowing a spurt of milk to fly into the air.

As he moved down, your hands instinctively flew to cover the loose skin of your stomach, still laden with lighter stripes from where your daughter stretched your flesh as she grew in utero.

His thick fingers grabbed at your wrists to stop you.

“No.” he commanded and instinctually you groaned in rebuttal, trying to free your hands from his grip.

“Ain’t no hiding from me baby. C’mon.”

The low roughness of his voice always made you want to obey whatever he requested. You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Look, I know you’re still gettin used to all of it, but you’re still my woman and I love you. Shit, you’re even more my woman now that you’ve had my kid. You think I ain’t gonna worship every bit of you? This beautiful body that gave me my daughter, that gave me a second chance I don’t deserve. You think I ain’t gonna love every inch of you just as much as before?”

You couldn’t help but grin at his praise and nodded, leaving your hands at your side and permitting him to continue his work.

Done with taking his time, but still a certain gingerness to his movements, he finally kissed his way to between your legs. You were practically squirming with need as he teased his hot breath against your core.

The sweet relief when he finally ran his tongue through your folds had you practically jumping off the mattress with how calico-like your back arched. You were sensitive, having had no stimulation there in months. You hadn’t even dared to touch yourself in any way that wasn’t medically related, afraid to even test the waters.

Once he was satisfied with the amount he slicked up your petals with his tongue, he went back to being slow and careful, experimenting with your limits by tickling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

Another nod from you and he pushed in just to the first knuckle, then the second. All you could do was whimper with the pleasure of finally feeling him again, bucking your hips to encourage him to go further.

He massaged your walls a little before adding a second finger and you were in heaven.

It was so familiar the way he worked you over with his fingers and mouth. More and more of your fears dissipated with every movement, the luminous pleasure building inside took them over.

Your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly, taking not much at all to get you there. It made you feel normal and human and real again.

Tenderly, he kissed at your thighs as you worked to steady your breathing.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

Another nod. Usually it was Frank who was mostly silent and you doing all the talking. But not tonight.

“That good, huh?”

A giggle escaped you.

“Talk to me pretty girl, what you need now?”

“You Frank, wanna feel you inside me.”

“Okay. How? Gotta do whatever’s gonna be most comfortable for you.”

“I think I should be on top. Have the most control that way.”

“You got it.”

Frank rummaged around the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the bottle of lube. He shed his sweatpants and made his way back to you.

Spreading your legs, he applied a generous amount of lube, using his fingers to push it inside you a little. Satisfied with that preparation, he layed down beside you and put the condom on. You tossed your robe to the floor and crawled to him, maneuvering to hover over his length.

He held you in place with one strong hand and ran the back of his finger down your cheek with the other.

“Remember baby, anything hurts, we stop.”

You nodded, then reached down to guide him to your entrance.

It was a delicious stretch as you slowly sank down, relaxing away the last of your fears about pain. It felt good. It felt different. But it felt good.

The sigh of relief once he was fully seated inside you echoed around the room. You sat there for a moment, enjoying the pleasure. It felt like coming home after being away for too long.

You gave a rock of your hips, steady and easy, feeling the drag of his cock against your velvet walls.

Again. And again.

Until you found a comfortable rhythm and lost yourself to the pleasure.

Meanwhile, Frank’s hands continued to explore, reveling in the feel of your skin under his touch after missing it for so long. Observing the way pleasure twisted and contorted on your face as you rode him, he couldn’t take his gaze off of you.

Temptation won him over, he raised his hand to paw at your other breast. Just a few pinches to your tender nipple and the leak began.

Rising to his elbows, he once again took your breast in his mouth. The warmth of his soft lips latching and sucking sent a wave of goosebumps across your skin as you continued to thrust against him.

Carding your fingers through his cropped hair, you held his head to you, encouraging him to continue.

His fingers found the other breast, squeezing so the stream of milk began once more, flowing down the curve of your tit.

“Frank, I’m so close.” you said, punctuated by the slap of skin.

He moved to bury his face between your boobs and kissed your breast bone, husking out “That’s it baby, let me feel you. Atta girl”

Every dial in your body was cranked up to maximum capacity and it wasn’t long before you erupted, white hot pleasure coursing from head to toe as you rhythmically clenched around him.

You grabbed at his shoulders in an attempt to not fall over and he shushed at the whimpers you released with every spasm of your walls.

Frank wasn’t far behind, cradling your face as he pulled you to press your forehead to his.

A grunt escaped him as he thrusted up into you a final time. His gaze bore into yours as he released, attempting to say a million words he couldn’t form right now.

Cautiously, he tipped sideways and laid you down beside him on the bed, pulling you to lay on his glistening chest.

“You feeling good?”

“Yeah, Frank that was perfect.”

“Good baby, I’m glad we…”

But his words were cut off, the siren cry coming from down the hall stopped both of you in your tracks.

You moved to get up but Frank pushed at your shoulder.

“Shh shh shh I got her mama. You stay put.”

You closed your eyes as you listened to him coo her back to sleep from down the hall, content to live in this little bubble of joy forever.

For you @itwasthereaminuteago

#frank x reader #frank castle

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liesmyth · 12 days

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Is it better if John erased their memories, or if they came back that way and he just decided not to fix them?

It's immensely better if he intentionally mindwiped them. TO ME.

I'm a John fan. I think he's a tremendous tragic antagonist, and that everything he does in the HtN backstory is relatable if not painful familiar. He was under immense pressure, trying to mitigate the literal end of the world, having his mind and his whole self changed in ways he had no frame of reference to understand. He went from being desperate and trying to do his best to being carried away by circumstances to going absolutely fucking insane. There are many ways to rationalise John's actions all the way to the end, which is what makes it such an effective corruption arc. If you want to engage in some blorbo apologism, there are plenty of excuses to be found.

There's absolutely no fucking way to excuse mind-wiping his friends. THAT is why it's so important to me that he did it deliberately, in cold blood, justifying it to himself as a way to take their burdens upon himself so they wouldn't have to feel guilty. He removed their agency. He didn't want any peers in the world he'd created. He could have acknowledged what had happened, for better or worse, and tried to make amends - but instead, he chose to remove their knowledge that something had even happened in the first place. It's the turning point! I need him to go into that with his eyes fully open. He's doing it on purpose! He weighed the pros and cons and prioritised his comfort over his friends' identities.

EYE believe that his story arc is infinitely more powerful if there's a point we can look at and say "here is when John's story went from things happening TO HIM to John doing terrible things". Especially in a backstory that's ultimately about divine corruption and losing touch with your humanity, I think that turning point needs to be something that has a personal value to him, something that can't be chalked up to "he was high on death" or "humanity was doomed" or even "he touched the soul of the earth and went insane."

I think it's important, thematically, that one of his first actions after acquiring godlike powers was to make sure that no one would be able to remember his human self and challenge him on equal footing, even if he's still internally lamenting his own loneliness and wishing things were different.

Obviously, this is all coming from a known John Girlie™ and Eldritch Alecto Enjoyer — I interpret John's ascension to quasi-divinity as something that was mostly imposed ON him and he couldn't control, which is why I need him to cross the moral event horizon outright with the mind violation of his inner circle. Someone who views John as more directly culpable in the end of the earth might feel less strongly about the importance of the mindwipe in his story arc than I do, but TO ME it's the culmination of the tragedy. You've become the inhuman horror, baby.

/post that inspired the question

#i'd totally read posts or fics where this happens differently but TO ME it's juicy if he does it outright :3 #i doubt we'll ever find out for sure bc i think we've seen ALL that we're going to ever get of the resurrection unless it's from alecto's d #so it's really all headcanons! but this is mine #ask #anonymous #elle tlt posting #ejg #tlt thoughts #SORRY I HAVE SOOO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS

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ddejavvu · 9 months

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dbf!spencer x hotchs daughter!reader 👀

the team (+ families) over at rossis for a cookout and pool day and reader just got a brand new bathing suit, and spencer cant take his eyes off of her. 🥵

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters; reader is an adult), minors dni.

You're showing off your new bathing suit to Emily, which gives Spencer a good reason to ogle you. After all, he's just listening to what you're telling her.

"The size I tried on at first was too big," You lament, hands motioning to your chest, "But I had Penny bring me a size down, and this one fits much better."

It fits perfectly. It hugs your chest tightly, though it doesn't look painful, just snug. The black fabric slopes down your stomach and your hands smooth it down your waist, "And there's this cutout in the back, see-?"

You turn, showing off the broad expanse of your bare back. It's skin Spencer rarely sees exposed, and his teeth work at his tongue like he's trying to bite right through it.

"Isn't it so cute?" Penelope appears beside Spencer, knocking him out of his trance. He readjusts his grip on his drink to take a sip, mumbling an, 'Mhm,' to Penelope.

"I helped her pick it out," She brags, and Spencer sends her a tense smile.

"You did a good job," He promises her, "It's a nice color on her."

"Isn't it! She was going for red at first," Penelope divulges, and oh, Spencer's pants feel tighter all of a sudden, "But the only one they had was three sizes too small, she would have been spilling out of it."

The soda can Spencer's been nursing crunches as his fist clenches.

"Woah, hulk," Penelope eyes Spencer apprehensively, "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I need the bathroom," Spencer excuses himself, and it's not a lie. He just so happens to choose your bathroom, hoping someone's occupying the downstairs one so that his alibi holds up.

You hadn't been expecting anyone to use your bathroom, so it's sloppy, but Spencer doesn't mind. It's quite the opposite, really, when he finds your lacy red thong discarded on the floor. Hopefully you won't miss your panties now that they're tucked snugly into his pocket. He's sure you won't even notice, after all, maybe you hadn't even realized you'd dropped them in the first place.

Three hours later, when the guests are gone, and you traipse upstairs to take your nightly shower, a sick smile grows over your face as you find your bathroom floor devoid of red lace. Spencer had taken the bait, had snatched up the gift you'd left laying out so nicely for him, and the showerhead is going to come in very handy while you fantasize about how he's using your present.

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actual-changeling · 4 months

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I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

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cheapshrimpysheep · 9 months

Text

Taking Care of You - Younger Demon Brothers

This is the continuation of Taking Care of You - Older Demon Brothers

SUMMARY: What would a week with them taking care of you be like when you are sick? They taking turns to each take care of you for an entire day.

CHARACTERS: Younger Demon Brothers (Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader, Kissing, Comfort

WORD COUNT: An average of 980 words per character. A total of 3.950 words. (in this part)

COMMENTS: This was supposed to be shorter. So much so that this was supposed to be a post with all 7 demon brothers. But I think I got too inspired and ended up writing a lot, so I decided to separate it into two parts: the first with the 3 older brothers and the second with the 4 younger brothers.

I hope you enjoy ;)

CONTEXT: This is the continuation of Taking Care of You - Older Demon Brothers

This happens in the original time line, not in the Nightbringer one. So, you live with the Brothers in the House of Lamentation.

You got too sick to go to RAD. You need to rest in your room. Fortunately, it's a human exclusive illness, which means it doesn't affect demons whatsoever. So they can take care of you without any problems. The doctor said you would have to rest for a week, so everyone will take turns taking care of you for a day.

Shortly after midnight you receive a message from Satan: “Today it's my turn to take care of you. If you need anything, even if it's in the middle of the night, just let me know. I'll stay with you all night if you need me.”

You take this chance to ask him if sleeping with you counts, and he responds to you with, "Of course. I'll bring a new book I bought that I think you'll like. I can read it to you if you want.”

A few minutes later Satan knocks on your door and you let him in. To your surprise, not only does he bring a book with him, he also has a cup of tea. He sits on the bed next to you. “I've been reading about your illness and found this tea that can help you sleep better and soothe any aches and pains you may have. Do you want to try it?”

You sit on the bed and accept the tea. Maybe it's not the kind of flavour you like the most, but after drinking it you feel more relaxed. You say that to him and he gives you a sweet smile, glad that he could help you a little.

He shows you the book he brought, it’s a book of trivia. Some Devildom fun facts you can learn while listening to Satan's voice reading them to you in a voice you can fall asleep to.

You give him space to lie in bed with you, and he pulls his arm away so you can lay your head on his chest. He'll use one hand (and if necessary a little magic) to hold the book and turn the pages, while stroking your head with the other. You wish you could have cherished that moment longer, but being there with him was so comfortable, his hand so tender and his voice so soft, you fell asleep in no time.

When you wake up, you see him still by your side, but reading a book that wasn't that trivia one. When he feels you move and realizes you're awake, he places a bookmark you gift him in the book, closes it and sets it down. “Good morning” he says in a whisper and kisses your forehead “Did you sleep well?” You show him that you did, either in words or in murmurs as you smile at him.

You two snuggle for a bit. “Don't you want breakfast?” he asks you. You say yes, but that it’s very good to be with him like that. He chuckles “Don't worry, I can stay like this with you all day if you want. “But we should eat something. Especially you.” you agree in a murmur, he gives you one more kiss on the forehead and gets up from the bed.

He returns with a tray and the two of you sit at the table in your room. Cat face pancakes! With eyes, nose, mouth and whiskers drawn in chocolate. You tell him how cute they look and kiss him on the cheek. He kisses you on the cheek back and offers to feed you the pancake. You accept if he lets you feed him back.

He won't leave your room if he doesn't have to. If you're awake, he'll chat with you, read books with you, and watch a movie if you want. If you feel able to walk around the house, he can lead you to the Common Room where the fireplace is lit, to snuggle and cuddle with you. And he will try to attract some cats for you two to pet outside. Big chances he'll take a picture of you playing with the cats. Two of the things he loves most together!

If you need to rest and take a nap, he will stay in your room with you, sitting in a chair reading a book, right next to you. And if you let him, he will hold your hand in the meantime. Maybe he'll even ask you if you want to lay your head in his lap. And he can pet your head while you sleep. As he would do with a cat?... Maybe...

At lunch, he’ll cook for you whatever you want. And even if you want something he doesn't know how to cook yet or something complex, he won't deny your request. He will do everything possible to cook the dish you ask for. Even if he has to read and reread every cookbook he can find. Part of that is because he wants to be able to make you happy. The other part is a mixture of pride and stubbornness.

At dinner, it’s his and Asmo’s turn to swap sits at the table with the twins. And that’s okay. He already spent a whole day with you, he can give up that place by your side this time. Lucifer is on the opposite side of you and Mammon and Levi are at your feet.

At night, and before his turn ends, he returns to your room. He sits next to you on the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. You tell him you feel fine, still a little sick, but fine. “I hope it was as pleasant for you to spend the day with me as it was for me to spend it with you.” You tell him it was, and he should make those cat pancakes more often. “For you, of course. But don't tell my brothers about them. I don't want to make those pancakes for anyone else, much less for them.”

“I also wanted to ask you if you would like me to read you some more from that book to help you fall asleep better.” You accept the offer, but this time he can't sleep with you because his turn is running out. So you ask if you can thank him for taking care of you that day, before you fall asleep and he leaves.

“As if I would deny such a request.” he says with a smile. You sit on the bed and kiss his lips. You feel his hands land on your face, as if he's asking you to let the kiss last a little longer.

After you break away from the kiss, you lie back down. He caress your cheek and starts reading that trivia book in that soft voice that makes you fall asleep in no time.

You wake up with a message from Asmo. It’s 00:24am. “Hi hon~ It's your darling's turn to take care of you~! If you're awake, what some company~?” You reply that now you are awake. “*shocked emoji* Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry! Please let me redeem myself. Let me treat you. I have wonderful things to help you sleep and even improve your skin. Please~?” You surrender and tell him he can come to your room.

He knocks at your door, you let him in and he walks in slowly, as if already apologizing. “Hi hon...” he speaks in his softest, cutest voice. “Sowwy~” he goes to your bed and sits next to you “I didn't want to wake you up, but I wanted so much to enjoy these twenty-four hours with you. I brought some of my skincare products. Will you let me take care of your pretty face? It's very relaxing.”

You accept his offer and settle in bed. He didn't want to make you get up to wash your face, so he used a spell he usually uses when he's feeling a little lazy. Allow him to do all your skincare in bed. He massages your face with such gentleness and care that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.

When you wake up, you see Asmo sleeping next to you with an eye masks. You know he doesn't like to have his beauty sleep interrupted, but it was time to wake up and you guys need to eat breakfast. So you try to wake him up as sweetly as you can.

You whisper his name in that voice of yours that you know he loves so much. And if that's not enough, you start kissing his cheeks as well. He smiles and takes off his eye mask. He looks at you and then proceeds to attack you with kisses. As if he was thanking you for the best wake-up anyone could give him.

“Good morning~” He says, hugging you on the bed. “How do you feel, hon?”

“Loved” is what you answer him with a smile.

“Awww, you're so cute!” he kisses you again “I'm glad, but do you feel well?” You say yes, still a little sick, but fine. And hungry. “Ha ha, you sounded like Beel now. But I'm also getting hungry. I'll prepare breakfast for us.” he kisses you one more time and get out of bed.

When he returns, he brings out a tray with two plates of rainbow waffles and whipped cream hearts. “(Y/N)! Look! Didn't they look so beautiful? I made them! Am I not so beautifully talented?” The waffles really were beautiful and you tell him so. Before you eat, he asks you to take a picture with them together.

It doesn't matter if you are sick, Asmo can still make you beautiful. He'll give you a spa day at home. He'll even take you to his bathroom for a better experience. He'll use his scented candles, fill the bathtub with bubbles (you can get in in a bathing suit), put on relaxing music, and give you all the spa treatments he knows.

If you fall asleep, no problem. He probably fell asleep in the middle of all this relaxation too.

At lunch, if you feel able to walk around the house, he will take you with him to make lunch together and he will teach you how to make more beautiful dishes. And, of course, take pictures with them.

And since you feel better and the two of you are having fun cooking all those beautiful dishes, you ask Asmo if he would like to make them for dinner for all to see. “That's a great idea!” he says excitedly “We can show them the beautiful things we can do together. But, are you sure you feel well enough to do it?” You say yes, at least for now. “If you start to feel too tired just let me know, I can finish the dishes. Don't try too hard okay? You're still sick after all.”

You two surprise the others with your dinner. Everyone else starts asking about you, if you haven't tried too hard. But you assure them that you are fine and that when you feel tired, Asmo finished the dinner. They also compliment your appearance and especially your skin.

You felt able to eat in the Dining Room, so that's where everyone had dinner. No need for Mammon and Levi eat at your feet. Although Asmo started to use it to tease them and say that maybe they liking to be at your feet, say something. Mammon protests and Levi turns red as a tomato.

Before his day is over, he returns to your room. “Hi hon~ How are you? Feeling better?” You tell him that you are feeling better than you did at the start of the week, but that you’re still not fully healed. You still feel a little jaded. “This means that next week you will be healed, right?” he had a hopeful smile on his face.

You ask him if he misses you at RAD. “Of course I do! It feels like ages waiting for you to get well again. Nobody loves me like you do.” He was making puppy dog eyes at you, a mix of pity and sadness.

You tell him that. for missing you so much and taking such good care of you, he deserves a thank you kiss. His smile lights up his face and he hugs you, both of you sitting on the bed. You start by kissing his cheek, before he sulks a little, impatiently. And then you kiss his lips. It isn’t a lustful kiss, but a loving kiss, showing how much he misses you.

He is sad to have to part from kissing you, but his turn is ending. He gives you a bunch of goodnight kisses before he leaves, almost at midnight. He wanted to be with you as long as possible.

You fell asleep shortly after Asmo left your room. But you woke up a few minutes later, hungry. At that moment, you receive a message from Beel: “I came into the kitchen to get some midnight snacks. Do you want some? If you're awake.” You say yes, that you had just woken up hungry. “Okay, I'll get some more things and go to your room.”

He knocks at the door and you let him in. “I didn't wake you up did I?” he asks you, with a bunch of snacks in his arms “You know, with the message?” You say no, that in fact he even sent the right message at the right time. “I'm glad.” he smiles like a happy Shiba inu “I brought all your favourite snacks. I didn't know which one you wanted.”

With only 10% of what he brought, you were full. Beel ate the rest of the 90% of the snacks.

“Today is my day to take care of you.” he remembers “Is there anything else you need?” You take advantage of his question to ask him if he would like to sleep with you. You would sleep much better with him. He blushes a little. “I always sleep better with you by my side too. I'll just text Belphie to let him know I'm sleeping in your room. He might be worried if he can't find me anywhere.”

He texts his twin and then joins you in bed. However, the bed is a little small for the two of you. You take the liberty of snuggling up to him and resting your head on his chest. He smiles at you, he wanted to snuggle with you too. He puts his arms around you “Goodnight (Y/N)” and feeling protected by him you fall asleep in his arms.

You wake up with Beel's soft lower voice whispering your name. You open your eyes slowly and look at him, slightly sleepy, but you feel like you slept well, and enough. “Good morning” he whispers to you with a cute smile on his face. And before you could say good morning back to him, you heard a snort. His belly.

“Sorry. I'm hungry.” he apologizes, both with his words and his expression. You ask why he hasn't gone for breakfast yet if he was already hungry. “I wanted to have breakfast together with you. And I didn't want you to wake up without me by your side. You're very cute when you're sleeping, you know?”

You smile flattered and thank him for being so thoughtful of you. You tell him that he can go get breakfast for the two of you now, but remind him not to overdo your part. Despite it being Saturday, the other brothers are not at home, because they had to take care of some RAD related things at Diavolo's request.

He returns with two towers of pancakes, one in each hand, and pancake syrup in his coat pocket. He had a huge smile on his face, he loves to eat with you. “I overdid your part, didn't I?” he asks, seeing your surprised face. You say maybe, but surely they must be delicious and he can eat whatever you can't.

Unfortunately, you woke up a little nauseous from your illness, so you ate less than usual, which alarmed Beel a little. “Are the pancakes not good? Did I put too much sugar?” You tell him that he doesn't need to worry, that the pancakes are great and that you would like to eat more, but you can't at the moment because you're nauseous. “I can make more when you feel better if you want. I don't mind.” You ask if he's sure. “Of course. It’ll be hard to resist the urge to eat them right there. But it's to make you happy, so I'll do my best.” You thank him with a passionate kiss on the cheek, which makes him smile even wider. He will gladly feed you if you want.

If at any time during the day you need to get some sleep, he will respect that and not leave your room in case you need something when you wake up.

Fortunately, you feel physically better and he suggests that the two of you take a short walk around the garden to get some air, since you haven't left the house in a week. You will walk hand in hand. If you feel cold, he will give you his coat or hug you. And if you feel tired, even just a little, he will carry you back to your room if you let him.

If at lunch you want his pancakes, he'll make them, if not, he'll make whatever you feel like eating. And at dinner, the usual, since you can already eat with them at the dining room table. And at night, before his day is over, he comes back to your room.

“Your appetite returned at lunch and dinner. I'm glad.” he tells you with his cute smile “How are you feeling?” You tell him that the walk in the garden did you a lot of good, and you thank him for the idea and for taking the walk with you. His smile only grows when hearing that he helped you like that. “I'm glad you're feeling better now. I've been miss you so much.” You tell him that you felt the same way and that you were very happy to spend that day with him, only him.

“Me too. I love Belphie, and spending time with you two, but I like spending time with you like this more.” he sits with you on the bed and hugs you. You take advantage of this to cup his face and kiss him. His kiss is sweet and tender.

He'll stay there with you, holding you, until his twin brother knocks on the door shortly after midnight.

Belphie knocks on your bedroom door and Beel opens it. They talk for a while before Beel bids you both good night and leaves to go to their room.

“You're going to let me sleep with you right?” Belphie says, with that cute little brother smile he uses to get what he wants. “It's been a week since I've only seen you at dinner. And today is already my day to take care of you. So...”

You lie down, giving Belphie space to lie down next to you. As he does and hugs you like you're his favourite pillow, which you probably are. “I've been dreaming about you.” he whispers, sleepy and close to your neck “Which only makes it sadder to wake up without you with me. You really are mean doing that to me, you know?” And in an instant he falls asleep in your arms. And you in his.

When you wake up, he's still fast asleep and clinging to you. You try to wake him up, whispering his name, poking him... But he just complains in sleepy moans. “Belphie, I'm starting to get hungry.” you tell him, what makes him answer: “Then wake me up with a good morning kiss.”

You kiss his forehead, but apparently that's not enough. Then you start kissing his cheek several times until you suddenly stop. He complains lazily and you tell him you can continue after he brings breakfast. “Mmmm... Fine...” And he kisses your cheek before getting up and, somewhat reluctantly, leave your room.

Whatever was the matter at RAD, the others had to go to the Demon Lord's Castle that Sunday to finish things off. And because of that, you're alone with Belphie.

He comes back with a basic breakfast, like toast, but they taste pretty good. Even if you already feel healed, remember that we are talking about the Avatar of Sloth. So, if it's up to him, the two of you will spend all day in bed or on the sofa in the living room, just chilling and cuddling, sleeping or watching something. Or at least, that's how you spend your morning.

At lunch, knowing that you already feel practically healed, he will convince you to cook with him. Especially since cooking alone for two people is a lot more work and doing anything with you is better. At some point while you are cooking he will hug you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder. But if you still don't feel well enough to cook, don't worry, he'll cook everything if he sees you're still not well.

Since you haven't left the House of Lamentation for a week, he asks if you'd like to spend the afternoon in the garden, under the stars (Since in the Devildoom it was always night). The weather was even nice. You agree, and Belphie gets you a picnic blanket to lie outside. In the middle of the afternoon, if you're hungry, he'll go into the house to get you two some snacks, but only after you convince him with a few kisses.

When the others arrive home, they get worried for not finding you or Belphie anywhere, until Beel decides to look in the garden and finds you two. The others start complaining about Belphie taking you outside, because if you were still sick it could be worst for you. But you explain that you already felt better and that getting some air after spending so much time in bed was doing you a lot of good. Lucifer even praises Belphie for the idea, until Belphie said that Beel had already taken a walk with you the day before which extended Lucifer's praise to him as well.

Dinner felt like the usual with the brothers, but you could tell by their good mood that everyone was very happy that it was the last day you need to stay home and rest. Everything will be back to normal the next day. Even though the next day was a Monday, they were happy.

Like the others, Belphie came to your room before his day of taking care of you was over. “Hi how are you? Completely healed, right?” he asks, and you nod “Great. So where is my compensation?” His compensation? “Yes. I was away from you for a week, I think I deserve an apology for the emotional damage. Oh! And I still took care of you all day today, you even made me wake up in the morning to bring you breakfast, I deserve a reward for that too, don't you think?”

You smile and sigh, gesturing for him to sit on the bed with you. You hug him and start kissing him on the cheek before getting to his lips. He hugs you tighter and leans over to make you lie down on the bed, as he lays down next to you.

After the kiss he continues lying down and hugging you. “You're not going to sleep here again tonight, are you?” you ask him

“Why? Don't tell me you want me to go away?” he says with sad puppy dog eyes. He knows perfectly well that your answer is no. You sigh, and snuggle into him. He gives you a few kisses on your cheek and around your neck, lazy, loving kisses, until you both fall asleep.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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hanzajesthanza · 10 months

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“what does geralt get from that friendship…”

another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.

the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.

that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.

but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.

I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.

so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.

‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’

this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.

each day is not lived, but endured.

day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.

in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.

without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.

‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’

No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.

because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.

‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’

someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.

and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.

Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.

dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.

while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.

and what else does this friendship save him from?

not only from others, but from himself.

worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.

dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.

and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—

Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!

to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.

'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'

'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'

The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.

'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'

it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?

did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?

by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.

indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.

so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?

an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.

#the witcher books #gerlion #geralt of rivia #dandelion #jaskier #the parallels with ciri’s story makes me so emotional like…#ciri is just geralt but younger and alone. and thus she suffers so immensely #i included ciri’s nightmare because i think that’s how it feels to be alone #you just cry out ‘help! why won’t someone help me?’ and no one answers #and the funny bit is that everyone is like ‘ugh you cannot get RID of dandelion’ like #i think that’s the most comforting and relieving thing about him. he will never leave and abandon geralt.#there is nothing geralt *would* or *could* do to ever push him away #the kind of friendship where you never worry about being too ‘weird’ for them because they straight up dont care if youre weird #honestly idk how more people dont see them like this because i feel like loneliness is so pervasive right now #does everyone else just have this kind of best friend and for that reason take dandelion’s presence for granted #s: i want to be by your side #c: geralt #c: dandelion #excerpt #analysis #like. this is how it is:#the entire world: ‘you’re nothing you’re worthless and you’re inhuman’#dandelion is NOT like ‘omgggg of course you are something 🥺🥺 pwease don’t think badly like that’#no. he’s like ‘the hell? that’s the stupidest thing ive ever heard. why the hell are you even listening to that’#dandelion has a kind of masculine energy that the fandom does not like lmao

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galebrainrot2024 · 2 months

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GalexYou Dinner Party Part 1/3

I didn't manage to finish the next enemies to lovers part (I got half way!). I DID manage to write the start of a Dinner Party short series based on the @thebitchycloudpainter's idea. THANK YOU :D this was a hoot to begin to write.

Summary: As you and Gale settle into your life post-elder brain, you pitch the idea of gathering everyone for a dinner party in Waterdeep. Gale begins the whirlwind of preparation, setting the stage for the party itself. Content: fluff, some angst, mutual pining, mention of chronic pain, mostly fluff tho for the Sunday scaries

Master List |

It was hardly a few months time when Gale began to lament about how long it had been since you and your companions saw one another. As the stillness of life settled around you and he, you realized how much stimulation Gale needed to feel satisfied. He was endlessly curious and in many ways, your almost cataclysmic adventure was well suited for his temperament.

Despite his aching knees and persistent gnawing where the orb once nestled and despite some days where he was unable to find the energy to rise from bed, he craved excitement. In incremental and practical doses, for the most part.

When you tossed the idea of a dinner party half-heartedly, you were startled when he took it and began to weave together an elaborate chain of thoughts. He shot up, enthusiasm coursing through his veins as he spoke louder, his hands gesturing in wilder strokes as he went on: “Oh! Yes! What a fantastic idea, I knew I loved you.” He smirked and shot a wink, before pressing his fist against his pursed lips. “Should there be invitations? Of course there should be, Gale. Don’t be silly. Lest we forget our manners - Tara would never allow it, let alone my mother.” He shot you a knowing look, brows raised. He began to pace. “Invitations always feel a little.. old fashioned and archaic.” He stopped to catch his breath and you felt heat spread across your cheeks as you beamed at him. Although the idea of a dinner party knotted your stomach, to bring Gale joy and see him so exuberant, it would be worth it. “Listen to me, drolling on,” he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips. His hot breath against your skin made you shudder. “What do you envision my love? We could very well use the sending stones. How decadent though, to send out invitations for something as simple as a dinner!” He dropped your hand after kissing it once more, the energy whirring through him. He walked towards the picture window, watching the sun dip lazily on the horizon. “Everyone loves receiving proper mail, wouldn’t you agree?” He turned back to face you and you felt butterflies twist your stomach when blush coated his cheeks. He looked bashful, his large brown eyes honeyed pools. “Why are you looking at me as if I’ve sprouted tentacles?” Gale’s eyes glinted with mischief. He loved teasing you. Once he realized though, a soft, “ah” escaped his lips. “It’s because I’m getting caught up again, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you said, stepping forward to wrap an arm around his waist and pulled him toward you. You brushed a stray hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. You love how he leaned into your touch, igniting your skin as it sung with his. “I love it when you get carried away, please continue.”

“Are you certain this is something you want to do? I have a few faint ideas on how to reach Karlach and Wyll. Ah! And I’m sure Tara wouldn’t mind me joining her and Wither’s Wednesday Tea Time - she’s been pestering me to join her for some time. Perhaps I can seek out his assistance. OH! And the menu! What shall we have? There are so many possibilities…” as you saw Gale’s mind work, you whispered against his lips how much you loved him. You felt him tremble and sigh as you pulled away.��

“You were our appointed chef! Everyone’s had your cooking you salvaged from pitiful scraps. I’m sure whatever you prepare, it will be excellent and they will be thrilled. Think about how inspired everyone will be when you have access to actual spices and produce.” You leaned forward to kiss him again and he welcomed you in. A few moments passed, your hands exploring one another, lips tenderly synched as your tongues mingled and you tasted fresh green tea. You were enveloped in each other. He groaned as blood pulsed to his groin and you felt heat spread between your hips.

“Yes, but this is different! What if they don’t like what I prepare? You remember how picky some of them were-“ he was interrupted by your charming laugh and gentle kiss. Whenever you noticed him get too wrapped up in his thoughts, you knew your lips at the very least would silence his protests if he would not or could not hear your words. You were happy to offer whatever encouragement and validation you could.

“Give yourself more credit. You’re an excellent cook, and you have wonderful friends who like and admire you - I know they will love having a real, decent meal prepared by you. I’m surprised Karlach isn’t at our door already, eager and ready to eat.” You smiled despite the pang echoing in your heart for your friend. You missed her and hoped her and Wyll were safe in the hells.

At this, Gale beamed. You remembered how he loved feeding Karlach especially - her enthusiasm for life, food included, made those who her compliments touched delighted. “You’re right. I am so glad you thought of this, you’re brilliant and I love you, so very much.” He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you passionately, the kind of kiss before someone runs off to safe the world.

In this case, it would be preparing a dinner party.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale #gale x you #gale x reader #gale fluff #gale dinner #bg3 gale fanfic #bg3 gale fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale fanfiction

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soullessjack · 7 months

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okay but like. cogs turning .. last holiday truthing cwt maxxing… the sheer difference in dialogue between the script and the episode is killing me. the deliberate choices made to change said dialogue and even the ending…

like am I alone in thinking that this whole exchange in the dungeon was very oddly disjointed? very “nobody fucking talks like that” core. they just say shit but it doesn’t land with the other’s response.

and especially when you compare it to the draft:

for some reason or another, the writers deliberately cut out jack’s lamentation that he is still dangerous, that mrs butters is right to be doing what she’s doing, and that nothing has been the same between him and the Winchesters since he’s come back. they deliberately cut out dean saying “you’re one of us, and you have a chance to make it right.”

there’s also the glaring difference between how sam and dean defend jack in the episode vs the draft. in the draft, they say this:

D: “You said you didn’t want to destroy this family, but Jack is our family.”

S: “You hurt him, you hurt us.”

Mrs B: “No, he’s infected you. I have to keep you safe.”

D: “By trying to kill the people we care about?”

Mrs B: “No, he’s a monster!”

D: “Aren’t we all?”

•••

not only do sam and dean say that jack is their family and someone they care about, but they also explicitly hold themselves on the same monster totem mrs butters holds jack to (much like what dean said in tombstone, “we’ve all done things, so if you’re a monster then we are too,”

…which all then gets cut and turned into “He can save the world.” no, don’t kill jack, he’s our family and we care about him and he is good despite his mistakes -> no, don’t kill jack, he can save the world.

the explicit choice to center jack’s worth on his usefulness rather than his inherent value as the winchesters’ family and even just as a person, rlly speaks so much to the way he’s essentially narratively doomed to be dehumanized as a tool/weapon/device.

and the fact that this is all eventually preceded by Cas saying “you never needed absolution from sam or dean or me. we don’t care about you because you’re useful or because you fit into some grand design. we care about you because you’re you,” (which in turn is preceded by jack fitting into a grand design and fucking off to the raindrops forever), makes it seem either a painful inconsistency or some weird twisted inside joke between the writers (cough season 16 cough cough puke).

I haven’t posted about it a lot but I truly think there’s some vast trapped-in-the-narrative horror working around jack constantly being dehumanized both within the show as a living weapon and by the writers themselves as a plot device.

shits wack I guess

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icarustypicalfall · 4 months

Text

HIGH INFIDELITY

MASTERPOST • AO3 • PART 1

summary: You loomed over the empty grave, in the cemetery of perished love, and wondered if the fate of yours hath to end here.

warnings: guilt, post cheating, angst, Alejandro is a calm man (surprisingly),greek myths?

note: sorry for the delay (101 days??!! help) i recall posting the first part way ago. I just ending writing this part today, tysm for voting for the end, i couldn't bring myself to chose, and i see this ending to be perfect. If you want a p3, tell me! TYSM for everything mes loulous <3

“And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted.”

"What have I done... What have I done?" you repeated frantically, collapsing onto the bed sheets and clutching your head in despair.

The piercing headache had finally subsided, leaving behind a whirlpool of guilt and remorse. Your mind was overwhelmed with thoughts that you could hardly bear. A sense of disgust filled you to the brim, as if Alejandro's final words had created an unbridgeable chasm between the two of you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you lay there, utterly hopeless.

Dressed in black, you attended the funeral of your faith and devotion. The long-term promises you both made to each other were now buried alongside the vows whispered in each other's ears. You stood by the empty grave, in the cemetery of love that had turned to dust, wondering if this was the tragic fate of your once beautiful relationship.

A sense of sin compelled you to kneel before Eros and Aphrodite, pleading for forgiveness and vowing to rectify your past mistakes.

Perhaps you had been wrong all along, or perhaps your relationship was destined to be a tragedy, penned by the foolish Sophocles.

You cried until there were no more tears left to shed, until all your sorrow had been lamented. You didn't bother to check the time, but judging from the faint noise and the dark grey sky, you assumed it was well past noon.

You pushed open the bedroom door with utmost silence, tiptoeing down the hallway towards the kitchen. Deep down, you wished to be a small mouse, a tiny creature that could hide in corners and scurry under kitchen sinks, feasting on the crumbs left behind by giants —humans. Oh, the sweet life you would lead, albeit short-lived, until Alejandro, the cat, finally caught you in the act and put an end to your existence.

Your head throbbed with pain, a result of the excessive crying and the alcohol you had consumed on an empty stomach. You swallowed two pills, finding no appetite for food.

A strange sensation of guilt gnawed at your insides, choking you with every breath. Standing behind the couch, you gazed at your husband, if you can still cal him yours. He laid there, still asleep, with three empty beer bottles carelessly strewn across the coffee table. Alejandro was still in his combat attire, boots off. Your heart broke at the sight of his socks, the ones you had lovingly knitted for him years ago.

You reminisced about the day you had presented him with the warm socks. He had hugged you tightly, showering your cheeks with kisses, spilling his gratitude against your lips.

Again, your heart ached, the bittersweet memories lingering in your mind. How you wished you could push them away, banish those haunting thoughts! But they persisted, tormenting your very existence, staining your once innocent soul with foolish acts of sin.

Alejandro stirred, and you flinched, fearing that he might awaken. You longed for his hearth gaze, the warmth that used to envelop you in your darkest days. But now, that gaze had turned into a mirror of the devil, a hollow void filled with hatred and betrayal.

He was still handsome, even more muscular than when you last saw him three months ago. Your hand twitched, almost yearning to run through his dark curls and caress his cheeks, pledging your undying devotion.

But he was not one to grant second chances.

As if by instinct, his eyes fluttered open, and he fixed his gaze upon you. A cold glare pierced through your soul, promising a war that you knew you could never win against this military veteran. He dismissed your outstretched hand, your entire existence, ignoring you completely. Slowly, he rose from the couch and walked past you. Every fibre of your being trembled with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

"Alejandro...?" you uttered, more as a plea than a question. The demanding tone dissipated, leaving only worry and the overwhelming weight of guilt. It was a meaty morsel to chew on, while the bones were tossed to the dogs.

He came to a halt, lifting his head to face you. His expression changed, a neutral gaze that held more fear than anything else. You had barely secured a place in the colonel's heart, and now, by the way he looked at you, it seemed that you had lost that place forever.

"What is it, amor?" he spat out the endearment as if it were an insult, dripping with sarcasm and venom. Crossing his arms, he waited, his silence more punishing than any shout. How you wished he would just yell.

You stood there in silence, tears welling up in your eyes and your lips trembling. Alejandro's heart clenched, but he knew better than to forgive you. Letting out a sigh, he slowly turned away from you. His warm breath brushed against your face, and you looked up, guilt stifling the words on your lips.

"Why?... Why did you do that, amor?" he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of disappointment and sadness. His hands cupped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft flesh adorned with tear-stained pearls. He continued to scold you, his tone resembling that of a parent reprimanding a child. But you were no child, and your transgressions could never be compared to the mistakes of a young one.

"Why did you do it?" he repeated, his hands slowly retreating from your face. He walked away, leaving you alone in the room, with nothing to prevent you from the haunting thoughts. Your body felt cold, and you collapsed against the wall, your weak knees giving way as you sank to the floor.

...

Instead of divorce papers, a sorrowful Rudy arrived at your door, informing you that your husband was MIA - Missing In Action. You never heard from him again.

The pain of knowing that he was out in the world, alone and utterly abandoned, was enough to drain peace from your soul. You regretted your actions, praying every day for his return, promising complete devotion. You extinguished the greed within you, longing for him to come back, just to feel safe and sane again. To have him return home.

Now, standing by the lake, you hadn't taken a single sip. But who could you blame? You had already drunk your fill from the lakes of others, and now, the salty taste on your tongue left you eternally parched.

#𓆩♡𓆪 faith writes #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #writblr #cod angst #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas x you #Alejandro Vargas angst #cod fic #cod #mw2 fanfic #cod mw #please boost #i just 😭😭😭😭

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 7 months

Text

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey).

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.”

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin.

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could.

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank.

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated.

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal.

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin.

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #trope de sept #sex pollen #bucky x you #frank castle x you #imagine #bucky barnes x you x frank castle

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