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gentrychild · 5 months

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BNHA 407 : AFO is a lying liar who lies

Today is a very sad day because I am about to do something I genuinely dislike: I am about to defend All for One. In order to cope, I shall make fun of him the whole time.

AFO and Yoichi's backstory is finally out, with AFO narrating it, and there are two possibilities: he is either completely lying about it (boring) or he is lying a little about it (very in-character for him) because he is also lying to himself.

Lie number 1: AFO was born evil.

The narrator (AFO, seriously, it's AFO) says things such as "The baby drained the lifeforce of both his mom and his brother.", "It was born an arrogant baby." and such but it really reads at AFO villifying himself to add to his own legend.

That's what babies do. Children, before they're born, kinda have to take their strength from their mother. That's why pregnant people aren't supposed to do anything taxing.

AFO and Yoichi's mother didn't die because baby AFO drained her like a vampire. She died because she was a homeless woman who had access to nothing and had to go in labor alone.

Same thing here: during twin birth, a twin is often bigger than the other (well, probably not to extent of Yoichi and AFO, but you get my point).

Lie number 2: AFO, as a demon baby, is shown killing for no reason, just because he can.

(First slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

There are two things that are strange in this scene (apart from... you know.... a baby murdering people...)

AFO had no reason to go after them because they don't have any quirks to steal.

It makes no sense for someone to attack a group of people with nothing to gain. I doubt that's the kind of behavior you have when you're in survival mode as you're barely surviving in the street.

However, a previous panel points at some context we might be missing.

The same panel that indicates that those guys don't have a quirk to steal also shows that they are wiling to do some "preventive attack" on a bunch of quirked people who might or might not be those who assaulted a protest group (reminder that in this context, that protest group are protesting the rights for quirked people to exist).

I could be wrong but odds are that they did something to be qualified as a threat to All for One and we are missing the additional context.

(Second slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

Now, the poor souls who just got absolutely wrecked by a toddler wearing what I suspect to be a garbage bag have quirks, which makes more sense than the previous scene.

However (and thank you for @aimportantdragoncollector for pointing that out to me), we also have this panel.)

Yoichi is shown with bruises on his face and might be broken teeth.

Probably because those same people AFO is shown killing attacked him.

Lie number 3: AFO never loved Yoichi because he can't love, he just considered that he was his. That's all. Nothing more.

(Just... Just ignore the rats.)

AFO didn't care about Yoichi so much that the very conscious first act of his life might have been to swim a river upstream while dragging his brother above the surface with what must have been the deathgrip of all deathgrip.

AFO didn't care about his brother so much that Yoichi was fed and clothed by an AFO who was malnourished enough for his ribs to show and who wore what's basically an improvised toga.

But he just keeps sacrificing what little he has for someone he doesn't care about one bit, that's just his first possession. Nothing more.

Okay, I am going to be clear: anyone who sees that panel and thinks that it's the proof AFO didn't like his brother... You just outed yourself as an only child.

Siblings punt each other for no reason. (There is a reason why the first recorded murderer was an older sibling.) In this case, the reason was Yoichi throwing a can at him.

AFO: "You're not inviting me to a fun activity? You're leaving me out, in the cold, unable to partake in brother bonding activity? Oh, vault for Little Brother! Vault for Little Brother for one thousand years!"

AFO: "Nevermind, we're reading together. All is well, I guess."

Lie number 3: AFO killed the glowing baby for power, because he could, or because the Glowing Baby didn't deserve it

Still laughing about AFO's flawless reasoning... "Comic books heroes' life suck. Better to be a villain. I already did the whole struggle thing, I want an easy life."

AFO killed the glowing baby because he was jealous. It's as simple as that. The glowing baby was considered the first official quirked individual (even though it's not true), was protected by his family (if I remember correctly, the mother of quirks was his mom) while AFO and Yoichi had no one but each other (EDIT: I was wrong, the Mother of Quirks was Destro's mother. thanks to the people in the tags), and had a ton of people following him (while, for some strange reason, people start running away screaming when AFO shows his quirk... What a mystery...).

The last panel was basically AFO saying "I want to be loved' but not having the frame of reference to even know what love is.

In conclusion...

While AFO is definitely a bad guy and a monster, he didn't begin his existence as one. He just wants people to believe that. Because his pride and his ego can't allow him to admit that he lived a childhood full of horrible trauma where he was a victim abandoned by society (to an even greater extent than the LOV) or he would probably combust out of rage and mortification.

Ergo facto, AFO is a lying liar who lies, especially to himself.

#bnha 407 #bnha meta #bnha manga spoilers

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ronwestbreeze · 3 months

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you're gonna go far | 8

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 3.8k

read on AO3

There was blood that sputtered out of your mouth before you lost consciousness. Tsu’tey’s eyes widened and out of instinct—or perhaps his body had a mind of its own at that moment—caught you before your body could hit the ground. He held you up with one arm, his tension gave way to a perplexed emotion clashing with his barely restrained anger

“Take him to the Tsahik!” He shouted toward the warriors who had yet to leave. They had been waiting on his order. But they should’ve been gone by now. They should’ve been rushing back to save his little brother.

“NOW!”

The sounds of the pa’li galloping away did not dissuade his focus on you. Blood roared through his ears, the rain became heavier to where their skin would be slippery to the touch just as the ground became a mess of mud and green. But you never once slipped from his hold. His grip was sure.

His baby brother was lying unconscious, bleeding out. And then there was you. Somehow at the scene. No explanation. No context that could’ve calmed his stormy mind. This Sky Person carrying his injured brother. That very sight would’ve sent him into a violent rage. You would’ve been dead without question.

And yet Tsu’tey didn’t let your limp body go.

There was the anger that stayed but it battled with something else he didn’t want to acknowledge. Distrust wrestling with a flicker of something he couldn’t—wouldn’t place.

He could’ve just left you for dead, making all of this easier.

So why wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just let you go? Why wasn’t this an easy decision for him like it should’ve been? Why was his mind a raging storm of conflict?

It should’ve been easy. It was easy. For his people, for his brother, he would leave you here to die. One less Sky Person on his land would’ve made no difference to him.

But. But.

If he were heartless, if he were a true warrior, a true Olo’eyktan, then he wouldn’t have been so hesitant right now. He wouldn’t have been coming into blows with his sense of morality. He would’ve been able to ignore your unexpected vulnerability and kept to his instincts that Sky People were nothing but soulless demons. Who, themselves, didn’t have a sense of morale. Who wouldn’t have thought twice about destroying his home? If he was a good leader, he wouldn’t have any problem returning the favor. It shouldn’t have mattered to him whether it was wrong or right to leave you here. The People came first.

The forest whispered its ancient secrets to him. Unknown eyes watched him. Pandora was waiting. A delicate balance hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. This heavyweight—this decision—bore down on him. And if anyone were there to witness this, they would not see the stone-faced, sure warrior that was Tsu’tey the Olo’eyktan. But instead, they would see the clash of emotions carved onto his stone-like face. Not of a warrior but of a man.

This simple decision…the hesitation was enough of an answer.

So Tsu’tey called to his pa’li, who had stayed at his side instead of wandering off with the rest of her kin. He heaved your body onto the back of the creature before he got on himself. Your body now slumped against his chest as he yipped at the pa’li to move forward.

He wasn’t a good warrior. He wasn’t a good Olo’eyktan.

His hold tightened around your waist to keep you upright as the pa’li moved.

Yes. That much was so.

This rope of foreboding never loosened from Jake’s chest, even hours later.

Even after the warriors came back with Arvok’s limp and bloodied body—it was worse then. Finding the young warrior pale and at the brink of death, not knowing how this happened or why, it brought a sense of unyielding dread that weighed down on his chest. An unbearable weight. This powerful wave of emotions crashing against Jake relentlessly, hoping to knock him down to his knees.

And he nearly toppled over. He nearly staggered.

But he was now in the Tsahik’s hands. They had gotten him back in time for Mo’at to do her work rather urgently yet precisely. Arvok had been stabbed but after she had gotten a better look at it, it wasn’t fatal. No vital organs were damaged and there wasn’t an exit wound. The problem was just stopping the bleeding.

Which was why Jake’s hands were dried and sticky with red. It took a while to get Arvok to stop bleeding. At some points, Jake, who had his hand pressed against the wound at Mo’at’s orders, could’ve sworn his heart stopped a few times from how much blood he was losing by the hour.

Eventually, Mo’at miraculously got the bleeding to stop. She placed a molding paste against the wound. And once the paste dried she wrapped his waist up with long grass to add pressure against it.

Now there was an eerie quiet that settled in the Tsahik’s hut. Tsu’tey had Arvok’s head resting on his lap, whispering words of comfort to him now and then. Arvok had been awake moments before, whimpering from the pain. But even when he was long asleep, Tsu’tey did not stop his comfort, nor did he let his brother go.

Neytiri, throughout all of this, had helped her mother with Arvok. She grabbed the ingredients, the medicine, the tools, all of it with a barely composed expression. If she were training to be the next Tsahik, then she would have to be level-headed and composed just as her mother was. But even then, Jake could see her mask break whenever Arvok suffered through the hours. He saw the glassiness in her eyes as she handed Mo’at a bowl that was mixed with crushed medicine and the salty waters of her worry.

Perhaps it was different for Neytiri as she practically saw Arvok’s birth and watched him grow up. But for Jake, Tsu’tey’s brother wasn’t just another clan member. He was different from his mother and often sought the approval of his elder brother. He was a kind soul, one that wasn’t as easily swayed by his mother’s bitterness nor his father’s meek will.

Arvok was family. There wasn’t a question about it.

It was a simple mission gone wrong. Arvok had been tasked to meet with some of the warriors from the Tipani clan. The details after that were unknown to Jake, Tsu’tey, and Neytiri. They wouldn’t know what had happened until Arvok woke up and was conscious enough to retell the events leading up to Reeds finding him and bringing him to their warriors.

For all they knew now, the Tipani warriors might’ve attacked Arvok. Which was the worst-case scenario. It could lead to a war between clans. A war that they were trying with all of their power to prevent. Undone by an attack.

Jake prayed it wasn’t the Tipani that did this. He prayed for no war every day. He prayed that his days in battle had finally come to an end.

Then there was you.

Neytiri had been glancing toward your still avatar body that lay a few feet away ever since they entered Mo’at’s hut. Jake knew you would’ve long unlinked from the body but that didn’t mean the avatar didn’t need tending to as well.

After Mo’at had gotten control of Arvok’s bleeding, she identified the deadly poison and made medicine for it to hopefully save your avatar’s body. But the chances were highly unlikely as the poison had already made its way deep into your system. With the sweat coding your pale skin and the tremors in your muscles Jake felt when pressing his ear against the avatar’s chest to listen to the heartbeat, he wasn’t sure it was looking good for your avatar’s body.

There were moments when Jake noticed the subtle glances Tsu’tey shot toward your avatar. An unknown expression fell onto his face every time he did. In those moments, Jake wanted to ask, he wanted to know what troubled him so when it came to you. This reaction wasn’t the usual he had when it came to you. This was different.

But right now, Jake didn’t have time to pick apart Tsu’tey or your interactions. Right now, the focus was Arvok.

And that was all that mattered—

“Jake!”

Norm had suddenly burst into the hut, surprising all four of them from the tense silence they had been sitting in before.

“How dare you, demon!” Tsu’tey snapped, his vicious scowl replacing his previous grim and exhausted expression. “What gives you the right to be in the Tsahik’s hut?! And without my say-so—

“Calm yourself, Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at raised her hand toward him, her eyes never wavering from Norm’s, whom Jake noticed was torn with despair and anguish. Mo’at stood, “Jakesully, there has been a development,” Before Jake could ask how she knew this, she continued, “Go with your friend and listen to his words carefully.”

At that Jake pushed to his feet, and squeezed Tsu’tey’s shoulder before he followed Norm out of the hut.

Hours later, Neytiri finally cried.

A sudden pain struck your body and jolted you awake.

You took in a sharp gasp as someone hissed over you, “Shit!”

Immediately, your body went into defense mode just like when you had woken up on the ship with DeVoe. But before you could gather full control of your body, firm hands restrained you.

You screamed when more pain—a burning sensation—hit your shoulder. There was no rational thought left in your mind as you fought so hard to get out of this iron grip. But whoever had you made an effort for their grip to remain sure.

“Reeds, Reeds—listen to me!” It was Jake’s voice. He was somewhere around you—no, close to you—far away? Was that a comfort then? Your body—which was somewhat relaxed—must’ve thought so. The larger hands moved from your waist to cupping your face, “You’re safe, okay? You’re with the People. Tsu’tey brought you back…”

The People? Did he mean the Omatikaya? How did you get here? What—why were you with Jake?

You were so out of it that you could barely register your surroundings.

“I can’t—why—why am I here?” Slurred words spilled out of your mouth, jaw too tight to speak properly.

“She’s awake!” Jake called out to whoever was there. “Someone get the Tsahik now!” Your body was too heavy but you managed to grab something firm—an arm—and held on as tightly as you could. Like you were trying to grasp onto whatever ground you, stopping you from falling away into the murky waters.

“Sully—what’s happening to me?”

You weren’t even sure if he understood your question. Or if what you said was words at all. They were so slurred together and hard to get out like your body didn’t want to cooperate with you. A whimper left your lips next, tears itching in the corner of your eye sockets.

Thumbs gently wiped away the tears that threatened to roll past your cheek, “You’re gonna be fine, Reeds. You…” He paused as if considering his words. “Arvok said you had taken an arrow to your arm—the tip must’ve been poisoned—Tsahik.”

The last part wasn’t directed toward you but rather someone else. “Hold her down, Jakesully. We do not want her to move for this.”

“Hey, Reeds,” One hand gripped the side of your face as if to bring you back to where you were. To keep you here with him. With them. But the black dots in your eyes worsened and the blur in your vision never went away. “You gotta hold still for me. We’re gonna get the rest of the poison out. I just need you to work with me—”

A scream tore through your throat when your skin suddenly burned again. More hands pressed you down to the ground, keeping you from moving any further.

As time went by—or maybe no time went past—the searing pain wouldn’t stop. You tried swallowing your screams, skin sticky with sweat at this point. The pain stayed but the exhaustion grew heavier. So heavy that it practically knocked you out.

The next time you woke up, Neytiri was holding your hand.

There wasn’t much pain this time but you didn’t feel any better than before. You felt different but sick. A different kind of sickness. You had never felt this awful in your entire short existence.

But there was a sort of comfort in all of this. The warmth from Neytiri’s hands around yours grounded you a bit, but everything else still felt off.

You curled in on yourself with a quiet whimper, her hold on your hand tightened and her other hand gently caressed the curve of your very high-temperature cheek.

There were quiet sniffles next to you, “Ma’ tanhi.”

A part of you the small non-sluggish part of your brain, wondered what tanhi meant. You always meant to ask ever since she started calling you by that. But you just never found the time nor bothered to bring it up.

And why did she call you that with such—adoration? Gentleness?

“—not out of the woods yet.” That was Norm. Wasn’t it? The new voice sounded eerily similar to him. “She’ll have to sweat it off. The poison’s out, now she just has to deal with the—well, the after-effects of—”

You didn't hear the rest, even when you tried willing yourself to stay awake.

At some point, you could’ve sworn you heard a baby crying.

Crying. Crying. Crying.

Why is anyone getting the baby?

Then you saw the tank amid all the darkness. Within the glass, the lights were red. You couldn’t see the avatar inside of it. You couldn’t see the baby.

Where was she? Where was the baby?

Eventually, you woke up. Or maybe you were still asleep.

Frustratingly enough, your body still felt heavy. But you could see a bit of your surroundings better than before. You weren’t at Hell’s Gate, that was the first thing you noticed. But instead in some hut of sorts. The floor underneath you was soft—like a mat. Your skin wasn’t hot or sticky. Instead, you felt the coolness of the air hit your back with the smell of rain brushing against your nose and easing the tension in your tremoring muscles.

Across from you was a hunched figure. It must’ve been Jake.

You forced out your words through your dry throat, “Is the baby…is she okay? Where’s—Where’s Norm—”

“You should worry about yourself, demon.”

“—he was just here…I swear I heard…”

Something shifted within the hut. It wasn’t you, your body wasn’t moving anytime soon. But a sudden shadow loomed over you and there was a slight tug against your arm, where it had been burning before.

Something touched your forehead and then went away in an instant. Then a hand grabbed at your wrist, a thumb pressing just below your palm. The hand stayed there for a moment longer than before and eventually disappeared, leaving cool air brushing along your fingers.

“You should be dead. And yet the Great Mother has favored you, dreamwalker. But you are still not well. The Tsahik wants you to rest. So rest.”

And you did so. You allowed your heavy eyelids to close.

Not even realizing that it wasn’t even Jake’s voice that you had spoken to just then.

Some part of your body moved without you realizing it. A lower part of your body—your right leg. Your ears twitched and your tail swished slightly.

“She’s made progress.” A voice—Mo’at said. Good, you were starting to recognize voices better in this state.

Instead of heaviness, your muscles were sore. Fortunately, you weren’t as hot anymore either. Mo’at’s words were true. Your body was improving, that much was so.

How long have you been out?

You still felt exhausted. A different type of exhaustion than you were used to.

“How long until she’s awake?’ Jake. That was Jake this time.

“Soon,” Mo’at responded. “The poison’s completely out of her system. She should be waking up in the Great Mother allows it.

Your body was still tense. Leg still twitched now and then. Like there were tremors there. You’d have to massage it out once you were fully recovered.

“It would take time for her to adjust since the process was so abrupt—”

Your leg wouldn’t stop twitching. At this point it was uncomfortable.

“Jakesully.” Mo’at must’ve read your mind because you mediately felt a pair of hands on your twitching leg. “Put your hands there—” She said the rest of her orders in Na’vi but seconds later larger hands joined Mo’at’s—which, if you had to guess, was Jake’s.

They both began massaging the leg.

Eventually, you fell back to sleep. Not unconscious.

Sleep.

It took you a while before you opened your eyes and everything kind of fell into place.

You were still in your avatar. Somehow, you managed to stay in this body without unlinking which you sluggishly wondered how that worked.

Slowly, you sat up. Good, you were now in control of your body at least.

And you were still in a hut, not Hell’s Gate.

Jake—he mentioned you were at the new base for the Omatikaya clan. Which surprised you since their Olo’eyktan specifically was adamant to keep you away from their land. But now you were here?

That’s when you remembered everything that had happened before you passed out in the forest.

Arvok. The arrow—you were poisoned. Something about the tip of the arrow.

How long were you out for? Was the baby okay?

There was crying—was that even real? Was everything you saw when you were “awake” real?

You looked down at yourself to find that you were still in your shorts but your shirt was shredded. Your left shoulder—from the palulukan attack—was now wrapped up in green. Your right arm didn’t throb anymore and the slit from the arrow tip was now hidden away by green mush.

But other than that, you did not doubt that you looked particularly rough.

After taking in your surroundings and slowly gathering your senses, you tried to stand next. Albeit wobbly, you managed to balance yourself quite well. Like you were walking for the first time—like you were back in the days when you were training to control your avatar body.

“Whoa, hey!”

You jumped as Norm in his avatar—who practically appeared out of nowhere, rushed into the hut toward you. “Hey, hey, take it easy. Mo’at says you shouldn’t be moving too much yet.”

“I’ve barely moved an inch.” You mumbled as Norm stood at your side to support some of your weight. “And I can walk perfectly fine, thanks. How long was I out anyway?

Norm paused before responding, “Three days.”

You nodded. “Felt longer—how’s the baby? Is she—”

“She’s fine, Doc, could be born any day now. But I need you to listen to me real quick—”

You frowned at him as you finally stood straighter on your own, “My crops better still be alive, Spellman—”

Two more figures suddenly entered the hut. Both you and Norm looked to find Jake and Neytiri staring at the both of you in surprise and relief.

Neytiri rushed toward you and pulled you into a tight hug, “Oh, thank you, Great Mother! Thank you!”

Despite how flattered you felt at her expressive worry, you hugged her back stiffly, still quite surprised by the sudden physical affection from the woman. Over her shoulder, you looked at both Norm and Jake curiously, both holding grim expressions—Norm in particular avoided your quizzical gaze when you tried silently asking him what you had missed.

Neytiri pulled away a bit, analyzing your face with a relieved smile and puffy red eyes. You frowned, “I take it that my being poisoned was rough then.”

Now it was Jake who didn’t say anything and kept his gaze toward the ground.

Norm cleared his throat, “Something like that.”

You hummed, “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No, Reeds,” Norm shook his head, his ears lowering. “that’s not…Something happened after the poison set in. After you were brought to the clan…”

Your heart lurched at how serious he sounded. At how serious and grim he appeared. Neytiri now held your hands tightly in hers while Jake watched your reaction carefully.

For some reason, you suddenly felt cornered.

Norm ran a hand over his face before continuing cautiously, “You went into cardiac arrest in the link bed—I don’t know, maybe the sheer shock of the poison caused it—we took you out and we did—we tried…”

You felt like throwing up.

“Ma’ tanhi—”

Neytiri had reached to comfort you. To ease you before you heard the inevitable truth that Norm had yet to reveal.

Instead of sinking into her hold, instead of using her as a way of protection, you flinched out of her hold and backed away from the three of them. Staggering backward, your legs becoming jelly.

“Your human body died, Reeds. When you were brought to the clan—back at Hell’s Gate you were already gone. And when I came back here to get your avatar, they told me you were awake. I don’t know how—”

“Guys, I think we should cool off a bit.” Jake tried reasoning.

“It was Eywa,” Neytiri said firmly. “She saved you. There is a reason—”

You dropped to your knees.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jake rushed to your side. You shook your head, breaths shaky. “Okay, why don’t we slow down with her—it’s a lot to take in right now.”

You just couldn’t breathe.

Your hands trembled and the warm atmosphere of the hut blurred in your vision.

Jake’s hand grasped the back of your neck, “Hey, look at me. Breathe. It’s okay, just breathe, Reeds.” He gently pressed his hand against your chest and began breathing in and out slowly himself. “Just copy me. In and out.”

It started shaky but you copied him. Neytiri knelt next to Jake, watching you steadily as you struggled to get yourself to calm down.

She squeezed your arm gently, her heart clenching at the broken sight of you.

Oh, Eywa, she hated seeing you this way.

Eventually, not perfectly, you got your breathing to a steady pace that was far more manageable than before. Jake gave the pack of your neck a little squeeze, “Yeah, you got it. Good girl.” He then looked over his shoulder at Norm, “Let’s give her some room, okay?” At that, he looked at Neytiri who frowned at this. “Let her rest some more.”

Neytiri didn’t like it. But seeing as you were in no condition to receive any comfort nor did she wish to push you any further and hurt you more, she gave in to Jake’s wishes without protest.

You didn’t hear them leave. Nor did you feel Jake’s hand leave your neck.

At some point you were alone.

Alone with your new body.

Your only body.

The bile finally came up and spilled onto the ground next to you.

i felt bad leaving y'all on that cliffhanger last chapter. so what do you know, i went ahead and wrote up chapter eight for y'all. yes it's a lot shorter than all the other chapters but the next chapter is definitely longer so don't worry!

let me know what you think. and thanks for reading!

(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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utahimeow · 7 months

Text

swan song — satoru gojo

summary — why work so hard when you could just be free?

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — major jjk spoilers, graphic depictions of violence, hurt/comfort, angst, happy endings, reader has a cursed technique (mentioned once), established relationship

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — based on swan song by lana del rey. this is the most self indulgent selfship coded thing i’ve ever written but i needed to give gojo the happy ending he deserved idc if its cheesy or out of character

He’s dead.

Dead.

The strongest. Dead.

Satoru Gojo is dead.

A flash, then his body becomes two — legs here, torso there.

He’s not moving. Scarlet splatters the ground, blooms like a lily.

The air is disgustingly thick, and it hangs like a noose, and it cuts your throat. Nobody is breathing. Everybody knows.

This time, he’s not getting back up.

A scream claws its way out of your throat, vicious as it pierces through the air.

Someone else is stepping up to replace him already, a sorcerer with hair like seafoam. The King of Curses turns towards him, his stolen face twisting into a demonic grin, dripping with victory.

Right now there’s just one thing on your mind. Like instinct, like it’s your destiny. You don’t care about the politics, the consequences, the implications of his death. None of it matters.

You just want to be with Satoru.

Your feet are moving. They almost take off, but a steady grip pulls you back.

“You should leave.” Shoko’s voice quivers as she speaks. You’ve seen her composure crack so rarely that when you do it feels like your first time witnessing it.

Your face is hot, and it’s wet now. Your eyes sting. You don’t try to stop the tears, or even wipe them.

If you were to look up, you’d find eyes full of sorrow and shock and pity—you’re the grieving widow. His students have lost a teacher, his friends have lost a friend. At least I’m not her, they all think, I haven’t lost the love of my life.

Without another word, without even so much as one final glance at Satoru’s corpse, you leave. You can’t bear to be there any longer.

The taxi driver does not question why you’re crying. He pretends he does not hear the way you sniffle and gasp for air. He drives you to your home and drives away when you’ve paid him.

You breathe out. Your shoulders sag with relief. You will yourself to stop crying.

He’s in the living room, a thick arm thrown over his eyes as he half-naps. As soon as he hears you enter however, he springs up, beaming like the sun.

Satoru laughs a little at your puffy face and your glimmering eyes. He gathers you into a hug, his body hard and imposing and warm, and you cling to him. His heart pumps blood around his body and it’s loud in your ears.

“That was traumatic,” you say, but it gets muffled when you bury your face into his chest. He smells fresh, like the wind on a warm day. He must have showered since he teleported home.

Satoru’s laughing again. You wish he’d never stop. “You knew it was fake the whole time, how bad could it be?”

“I had to watch you die, Satoru! It was horrible even if it was fake,” you admit, tightening your arms around his waist, where his torso meets his legs.

He laughs, and it reverberates in his chest and rumbles through your body. You’re angry. You can’t climb inside of his skin and live there and you’re angry about it. His giant hands draw circles all over your back.

“I’m here, baby. I’m all yours now,” he tells you. For the first time, he means it without any exceptions.

…

“What if you faked your death?”

Satoru’s head whips over to look at you, scanning your face to find something that will tell him you’re not serious. But you are serious.

One word, he asks, “why?”

“So we can give up being sorcerers and leave Japan and never come back.”

Satoru grows quiet. There’s a pit in your stomach. He tells you constantly that he’d give you the world, and you believe him, and he loves you more than anything, yet he can’t bring himself to give up on humanity. Without him, the world doesn’t stand a chance. He’s the strongest, after all.

“Is that what you want?” he asks. It’s sincere.

“Yes,” you tell him, swallowing as you consider your next words. “I just got you back from the Prison Realm and now you have to fight Sukuna, who might actually kill you… You just give and give so much to the Jujutsu world and what do they give you back? Shit all. And I’m tired of watching you be wrung dry.”

He’s silent again. All the years that you’ve known him make it easy for you to know what he’s thinking. More than likely he’s thinking of Yuuji and Megumi and Yuuta. Maybe he wonders what Nanami would tell him to do, or what Geto would say.

It’ll be selfish. He’ll be abandoning everyone at the worst possible moment. He turns your words over and over in his head. Then he thinks of a life with you, a peaceful one, where you’ve left behind your days of sorcery, where he doesn’t have to be some pseudo-god.

Where he can grow old with you.

Perhaps, he thinks, it’s necessary for him to disappear. It’ll be a struggle without him, but he has faith. They’ll persevere.

“What are you thinking?” he asks eventually.

“I’ll use cursed energy to create a clone of you. Since my clones can’t use cursed techniques it’ll have to be right when Sukuna is about to kill you. You switch out and teleport out of there.”

For a moment he stares at you, then he chuckles, shifting sideways so he can lay on his back and stare at the ceiling with resolve.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says.

“I have,” you say. “For as long as I’ve loved you.”

…

He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

He’s convinced of it, actually. Life has filled your cheeks out and erased your dark circles away. Your eyes shine brighter. Fear no longer lives in them, nor does hopelessness.

Your fingers are gentle as you pluck fresh, plump tomatoes off the vine. Satoru’s heart swells because you’ve been so excited to harvest them.

“It’s just a handful for now,” you tell him, letting him peer inside the basket you have on your arm. There are a few bunches of rocket and basil leaves, and a small squash too.

He reaches in, takes a tomato and pretends to take a bite out of it until you snatch it from his hand and scold him.

“They just look too good, baby,” he says between laughs. You roll your eyes, but you don’t manage to bite back the smile that grows on your lips.

“Go finish building my chicken coop,” you tease, calling him by his last name, the one he took from you, then brushing past him to head back inside your home.

“I told you it’s almost finished!” he exclaims, trailing behind you as you make your way to the vintage renovated kitchen of your house.

Satoru settles on a stool at the island at the centre, observing the way you rinse the vegetables in the sink. To him it’s fascinating—well, you’re fascinating. The way your brow scrunches slightly with concentration. He hopes you never run out of vegetables to harvest and wash. He’ll make sure you don’t.

“By the way, what do you think about getting some mini goats?”

“I don’t care as long as you take care of them,” you tell him. “Do you want salad or roasted vegetables for lunch?”

Satoru’s heart races. He’s transported back to 2006 for a moment, when for some reason he wanted to be around you all the time and thought it was weird that he liked it when you teased him. Before he realised.

“Roasted vegetables, please. I love you.”

Satoru doesn’t look much different now. He’s gotten a little more toned, put on some muscle from some of the heavy work he does on the farm.

And when he smiles, he’s not pretending anymore.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk x you #jjk spoilers #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 month

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I am politely asking for a bit more on Königs son the angst is so yummy 🥺

König loves his baby boy... Until it starts to talk.

He absolutely adores the baby when it’s born, he can’t sleep at nights because he has to go and check if the boy is still breathing in the crib. König loves to hold him close and rock him in his lap, wants to give him baths and even changes the diapers, is so invested in the little chubby nugget that it’s a bit perplexing to see him so babbly cuddly towards someone who isn’t this poor Prince’s mother.

But when the boy doesn’t need him so much anymore, when he starts to show independence and express his own will, starts to walk and run and hide and talk back to him, it makes König uncomfortable.

He’s not in control anymore, he’s not needed. He’s the one who’s always away, he’s the unfamiliar face, the stern voice, the “strange man”, the one who makes the boy look angry or afraid. He becomes the bad guy.

It’s not bullying if his own son doesn’t prefer him, König knows it. But it still hurts to feel like an alien in his own home. It feels like a personal insult to be the last choice once again.

König’s son sees his father as a judge, a tyrant, a competitor because every time he’s home, mum’s all hearts and smiles. The parent who’s supposed to represent the whole world to our Prince suddenly becomes weak and clingy and needy.

And for what? For some big foreign man who stares him down as if he’s nothing but dirt under his boot. Asks him if he’s been nice to mum and if he’s helped her with the chores. When mum’s not in hearing distance, König tells him he shouldn’t trouble her with his crying and whining... If he’s nice and behaves, König will bring him toys from his “work trips”.

He rarely brings any because “he couldn't find anything”. Mum is the one who gets foreign delicacies, perfumes and the like. König’s son soon understands it doesn't matter how well he behaves because it will never be enough.

In his dreams, he tries to kill König every now and then. The old bastard only laughs. He laughs, even in his dreams because he’s weaker than him, not a threat at all, only entertaining when he gets mad… He laughs and just won't die.

Mum comes first, always. Whatever she says is the law. Whatever she wants, she shall have. The way his father worships this woman is eerie, disturbing, and invokes so much jealousy that König’s son is not sure who he’s even supposed to be jealous of. This stupid fucker or his mum who seems to lose brain cells every time this dick returns home and disturbs their peace?

Girls are both Madonnas and whores to him after he has watched this tyrant become a babbling, spineless mess over an upset woman. The world quakes everytime his mum is unhappy because her happiness is paramount. The only time he has seen König in tears was when his mum refused to talk to him one evening: the argument was about him, of course, and how König should apologize to their son, not to her. It takes manipulation and a passive aggressive lioness to make König say he’s sorry, but it does nothing to help the situation, quite the contrary. Who would give a fuck about a forced apology?

König’s son becomes a covert people pleaser who feels lonely wherever he goes. He’s a mama’s boy whose father seemingly hates him, an angel and a demon in one man, someone who believes his worth is measured by the things he achieves in life. How well he performs, how much money he makes, how independent he becomes. With women, another one always bites the dust, with work, he never seems to find his passion. And wherever he goes, whatever he does, nothing is ever enough.

The only way for these two to find a common ground is if the poor Prince manages to settle down with some patient, loving woman who gives him a child. A grandson or a granddaughter would make König fold and become a babbling mess once more; he's so pathetic and harmless with the baby that no one can be angry at him even if they wanted to. König would kill anyone and everyone who tried to hurt his family, even a blind man can see that.

Reconciliation happens slowly but surely, even if it's another kind of hurt to see the old man give this child all the love his son would've begged his knees bloody for. But beggars can't be choosers (and apparently a king's son has no crown), luckily König becomes softer in the head as he ages so a time may come when he thinks back on what he's done and finds the balls to wholeheartedly apologize. Might demand a touching family Christmas dinner and some whiskey though.

#könig's son #könig angst #happy ending #kinda...

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wearepurplejackets · 2 months

Text

Little recap of episode 4 of season 4 of Wakfu

Look at this!!

You saw this beautiful smile???? This smile can stop babies from crying (and Nora). This smile can revive a puppy.

You saw it???

Well, I hope you did because I think we'll not see it in a really loooooooong time~ (maybe 9... Or 10 episodes.) The storm is coming... violently with a bat.

(BEHOLD SPOILERS OF EP 4 OF SEASON 4 OF WAKFU)

I remember Tot said season 4 was gonna be sad a f*ck and that Yugo will have to pass some kind of "hard trial" (AGAIN) in this season because this kid will never have a good rest. Not even a breath. Stop. Give this little boy some holidays c'mon, the lord is always testing our little angel to the limit. (And by lord I mean Ankama I'm looking at you...)

So it's very likely that Yugo will start to suffer even more in the next episode. And of course, in the entire season :))))))) Let this boy have something, someone precious by his side more than an instant and stop take it from him in the next second, I beg you. (He just found his family... And... Qilby I guess. And Adamai just abandoned him already to investigate by his own way...)

Just seeing how the kings and queens of every nation were so disrespectful in front of him and just called his mother a monster and made her cry, well. (I want to riot! When Joris said they were "quite tense" he fell short.)

Okay, yes, I understand the eyes in the sky~ are pretty creepy and of course I don't trust her either, at least, like this is so suspicious for sure, no one was born yesterday even when she is trying to be so kind and helpful monitoring the entire planet (yeessss mom, way too much).

But, c'mon, this is a goddess as tall as... I don't know, as much as she wants, girl she is made of f*cking magic. If she wanted she could erase you from existence. She didn't have to give a f*ck about anyone and HERE WE ARE~

The best thing you can do is looking for a fight with her in the moment you meet her with no hesitasion? Do you want to die that much? Do you know about survival? Did you skip that class maybe? (I'm going for a tea BECAUSE-)

It was so necessary to (be a little racist dear rich people and) insult the giant blue mother of your hero in his f*cking face and the people who are at least trying to do your job (which any of you losers did well, like ever, btw. When Sadida kingdom was about to be destroyed by the chaos of Ogrest what did you do?? Eh, where were you???)

Jobs like protecting and saving your citizens from, nothing, being robbed and I don't know: imminent death??? I mean, really? Was that all you thought about in this situation? Being a d*ck was your best choice.

These same guys here were talking about stolen freedom?? What freedom? The brotherhood of Tofu had to save your asses for like 3 season. 3 ovas and dozens of comics. The same people who criticize others actions but never assist and reunite when they are needed, Cause I don't know Rick, it seems a little fake....

Yugo just met his mom and his sis and he already has the world of 12 hating them... Like wow, the rulers are all going to die in the hands of that kind of white demon/zombies of TLOU/soul suckers or whatever they are. And I really don't give a f*ck for any of them, ladies and gentlemen. Only the crowns are going to remain. (Down with the monarchy.)

Weeeeeeeell.

You know what? I don't care what Yugo will do from this point. Nop, not a bit. But I'm with him to the end of everything. I will support you honey, I will defend you no matter what. I mean, I'll be totally okay if he decides to save the world for the third f*cking time and I also will be okay if in the end he prefers to let all these motherf*ckers die in an instant with no mercy and no regre-

And it could even happen that Yugo loses someone important in season 4... (The same way I will lose my mind.) Hope that never happens, I just swear to god-

Anyway, Yugo fans, unite and brace yourselves.

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lilisouless · 3 months

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Zoya: the theater group that was supposed to come for the anniversary of the end of the Ravka war cancelled, i promised a play!

Nikolai: don't worry, i got this

---

Zoya: remind me never blindly trust an "i got this"

Nikolai: why? they are making a good job on the effects, and they will do anything for money

Alina: shhh! my big moment is comming!

Jesper with a long white wig: But my beloved Mole-

Wylan whispering: Mal-

Jesper: There has to be another way!

Wylan shirtless and with a six pack painted on his belly with a marker: There is no other way, Alina. Its your fate and dying for you its mine, as said by the cool and not at all awful tattoo of mine

Mal: I wasn't shirtless when i died

Alina: in my mind you were

Jesper: i can't do it!

Wylan: you must!

Jesper: okay! (fakes stabbing Wylan who fakes a collapse) oh Mal, Rakva will honor your braveness, and i will always remember how much i love your abs...and personality and all that shit

Alina snifs: its like they were just there

---

Zoya: so..why did she choose that role?

Nikolai: she said it she wanted a loud range of emotions

Nina with a big fake black kefta: Join me, Alina Starkov! join me to the shadow side , HAHAHAHA!

Zoya: at least practicing her evil laugther actually paid up

Jesper: Never! you just will just steal my power!

Nina stomping her foot; but why won't you give it to me?! why-won't you give it to me!

Mal: and...now "the darkling" is crying like a baby...at least they got that right

Nina: You need me! you need the shadow!

Jesper: no...this is..BONE! (fakes stabs Nina)

Nina: noooo! i am dyiiing....nooo, why didn't i bring a blade proof kefta, nooo

Nina fake coughing: Alina...please...do something for me...

Jesper fake crying while an onion slips from his fake kefta: yes?

Nina: "cough" tell...Zoya...to give that little grisha, Nina Zenik (the cutest one) all the waffles she wants (fakes a collapse)

Jesper: now its my time to die too, Tamar. Tolya, bring me my boytoy

Mal: excuse me? "man toy" please

Kuwei enter the scenario while dragging Wylan around

Tolya: is he supposed to be me or you?

Tamar: he has an undercut, so probably me-

Kuwei: Sankta Alina, we can cure you! I can cure you with my axe!

Kuwei turning around,showing a sidetail on the other side of his face: this makes me want to do some poetry

Tamar: oh, he is both of us, like the detail that the arm playing me is more muscular

Tolya: its literally not-

Jesper: no...i´ll die, my job here is done

Kuwei as Tolya : but my saint! you can't leave us!

Kuwei turning around as Tamar: Ravka is still a mess

Jesper: And thats your problem now, so long suckers! (fakes to die over Wylan´s body as Kuwei cries)

---

Inej with a fake blue kefta: i hope all of you know how lucky you are to be on my pressence

Zoya: this whole play is awful, all our portrayals are so one note and exagerated, we are not like that on real life. My eyes are too good for this sight

Inej : A triple funeral, a country with no money (flips her hair) my eyes are too good for this sight

Zoya: everyone shut up

Matthias with a cardboard crown: Oh yes, and i am the king now, i was hidden to treat my injuries completely unrelated to demonic possesion and (looks up at cue cards) improbable...i am a pearl...something , something...charming

Nikolai: who let him play me?

Kaz with a cheap red wig and a patch before the big curtain falls : and i...was ruination

Zoya: always the need to have the last word

Genya clapping: as "she" should

#shitpost #grishaverse shitpost #to clear possible confussion the crows are all in the play #everyone else is in the audience looking #shadow and bone shitpost #netflix shadow and bone #six of crows #leigh bardugo #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #sab shitpost #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #inej ghafa

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evieelyzabethh · 9 months

Text

Sugar and Spike

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.

warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.

In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.

It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.

“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy.

“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest.

“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.

But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.

You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.

The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.

If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.

If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.

He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you.

The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust.

“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did.

There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself.

While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now.

The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name.

“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch.

“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly.

“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants.

“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist.

“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him.

“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before.

“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped.

“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute.

“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him.

“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you.

“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.”

You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”

You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.”

Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace.

His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place.

You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair.

His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later.

You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it.

His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went.

He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.

You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand.

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years.

“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable.

You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”

“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”

You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy.

Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement.

“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again.

“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?

Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick.

You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”

In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.

“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise.

“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you.

“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot.

All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches.

You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job; like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. .

He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before.

He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting.

He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened.

After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway.

“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him.

“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.

“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.

“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled.

“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.

#btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction #buffy the vampire slayer imagine #buffy the vampire slayer x reader #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs imagine #spike btvs fanfiction #spike x reader #spike btvs #spike smut #spike btvs smut #btvs smut #buffy the vampire slayer smut

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chaotic-iguana · 10 months

Text

Sleep

Summary: Reader suffers from lack of sleep, caused by a recent event. As she continues to overwork herself, she reaches her breaking point with near disastrous results. Starring concerned!steve murphy, chaotic idiot!steve murphy and clueless!reader. javi has my fucking heart though.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no use of y/n though)

Rating: M

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, sort of a panic attack, mild MILD allusions to someone being creepy (not javi though), mild flirting, humour, lots of swearing sorry

this is my first fic - let me know your thoughts! check me out on ao3

masterlist.

“I swear to fucking god Murphy, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg against the table, I’m slamming your head right into it” is the gospel that flows out of your mouth at 7 am on a Monday morning. Feels like it’s gonna be a great week.

“The hell did I do? You’d think Connie’s cookies would be enough to get you animals off my back, but no, first sign of any damn fire an’ the first person you’d throw in?” Steve huffs. “Murphy”, he repeats mockingly. You scoff and roll your eyes at him, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to talk yourself down from strangling the idiot situated two feet to your left before turning back to the paperwork in front of you. The one-foot-tall, monster stack of paperwork. Right. In. Front. Of. You. And would the golden boys ever do it themselves? If they ever got a moment’s relief from jacking each other off during missions (or however the hell they manage to fumble practically every single little op), maybe. But most of the time, you were stuck with it. Because god forbid the two princesses you were partnered with ever had to so much as lift a pen themselves. Hell would freeze over.

And it isn’t like you mind. At all, really. Half your job is the paperwork, and you’re happy to get it in order - if only to avoid Noonan’s wrath. Besides, what good is an agent if they can’t do their fucking job? In its entirety; not the half-assed shit most of the men did around the embassy. But a single glimpse of yourself in the mirror while rushing to leave the house revealed that these past few weeks of skipping lunch breaks, going home late, and taking files home to work on have been catching up with you - sunken, bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, and bruises smudged under your eyes now, perpetually, since the nightmares had started. Anything to keep you busy, right?

Another aggravating side effect of the amount of work you had taken on apart from the usual? The constant irritation. Marlene’s new nails, Katie’s suspicious last lay, the stupid fucking demon alarm clock that never quite managed to wake you up, the busted tire, the broken coffee machine, Dave from accounting’s downright idiotic whistling, your pen running out of ink, and finally - Murphy’s bouncing knee banging the table every fucking millisecond, practically in tune with the pounding ache beginning to form between your brows. If you were a better person, you’d let these things go. Such is life, right? But since the lack of sleep, the increased workload and general mishappenings had already created this beautiful trifecta of shit just to screw you over, better people could go fuck themselves. As could Murphy. “Don’t use your wife’s cooking as an excuse. I’m telling you, make another sound and die.” you spit out, whirling in your chair because the incessant fucking banging still hasn’t stopped - just in time to catch Peña sauntering in, already smirking.

“Already nailing Murphy’s balls, cariño? Careful, I’ll fall in love, baby.” You can hear the laughter in his crooning voice as he throws it over his shoulder - but you don’t care - can’t care, beyond the spots that seem to be forming at the edges of your vision. Were your fingers always a bit tingly? Or is that a new development, like your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, like you’re choking on it? But even though your thoughts feel slow and weighed down by molasses, rage sparks brighter in your mind as Peña’s flirty nicknames and bullshit teasing registers. You push away from your desk, and shoot up from the chair, striding towards the door to get some air - or you try to - because before you know it, your vision is blinded by white and you’re breathing quick, shallow breaths as you lay on the ground trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Distantly, you can hear someone calling your name but it sounds so far away you barely even register it. Hands wrap around your wrist, your head, attempting to stabilize you, to ground you, as you flail wildly in a panic. A low hum begins to fill your senses, forming words that sound to fuzzy to understand or care about right now, but you lean into it, something in your being telling you it’s safe.

When your sight clears, you’re curled up on the on the floor trembling. Shaking, like a scared fucking child, while Peña kneels to hold you to his chest, repeating the same few phrases over and over: “You’re okay, it��s okay hermosa. You’re safe. Safe. No ones gonna hurt you, it’s over now, okay?” as Murphy stands next to him, watching with panic and a hint of sympathy in his gaze. You scramble away from them both, panting, nearly slipping in your effort to get to your feet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, pretty. You’re okay” Peña repeats his assurances with his hands held out, palms facing you, as you stand on wobbling knees, wiping at your face.

“‘M fine” is all you whisper to them hoarsely before ducking your head and rushing out of the pathetically cramped room you three work in. You can hear footsteps behind you, but can’t find it in you to turn around - not even at the panicked sounds of your name being called by a familiar voice. You’re making a scene, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s all too much, and you’re too far gone. Reaching the parking lot, you struggle to unlock your car as your trembling fingers drop the keys twice. Swearing, you resolve and pick them up again, pressing them and reaching for the door. But just before your fingers find the handle another hand - much, much larger than yours - splays out on the window to stop you, just as Peña’s signature bedhead comes into view. He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth tucked low at the corners, like he’s disappointed. You want to melt, you do, because the melting pot of emotions you have for him make you preen at his worry - but your usual defense mechanisms humble you. And so you sharpen your claws, flash your fangs, and the hackles raise again, leaving a “What, Peña?” to come tumbling out in a tone so sharp it makes you flinch. HIs frown just deepens as his gaze rakes over your form frantically, as if checking for injury. He says nothing, pursing his lips further before snatching your wrist and tugging you behind him as he stalks to his car, opening the side door. You raise a brow at him, and he counters by jerking his head towards the car, scowling slightly. You get in, slightly confused, and wait for him to walk around and get into the drivers seat. “What the fuck, Peña? I just fainted, I’m not senile. And I don’t give a shit how mad you are, you can’t just-just drag me to your car and f-force me to get in. The fuck are you playing at?” you begin to ramble, fury somehow still rising at a dizzying speed. Peña doesn’t respond, just starts driving while looking straight ahead while you continue fumbling over a panicked rant so pathetic it sounds nonsensical to your own ears. “…And what? You just enjoy calling me s-stupid nicknames? You think it’s cute to flirt with me while I’m- while I pass out?” This one makes his nostrils flare, eyes darkening a bit while his jaw tightens just for a second before letting go. You pause for a second, getting your breath while your hands still shake in your lap. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Can I just go home please? I’ve already done the month’s paperwork for all the ops we have planned, and you can just give me the rest post-op. I’m just a bit under the weather, I just need to lie down for a bit.” you start trying to reason, but the stubborn ass just keeps driving, and alarm starts bubbling in your chest again. You look down to your lap while you fiddle with your thumbs, willing to control the irrational fear yelling at you that something’s wrong every second Peña chooses to stay silent.

“Think I was flirting with you while you passed out? Y’think I don’t see it, you working yourself to the fucking bone? Think I can’t see how you’ve stopped eating, honey? Stopped laughing like you used to? Think I don’t know how late you’ve starting going home? As ‘f I’ll ever stop waitin’ for ya to clock out first so I know you’re home okay, baby. You gotta tell me what’s wrong - this is eatin’ you up.“

Peña’s tone softens, but his harsh whisper makes you turn your head to look at him. He sounds so…tortured, as if he’s the one suffering. He glances your way, locking eyes with you for a second before turning his head back to the road. You sit there and practically gape at him, your jaw slack as your head whirls. Peña knows? No, wait, he waits? For you to go home so you’re safe? He cares? What the fuck? Confused, all that comes out of your mouth is a mighty elegant open-mouthed “huh?” before you blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You gotta know by now, sweetheart. Gotta see how I’ve been lookin’ at you. You’re the smartest fuckin’ agent I’ve seen, with the balls to take down men I’d sweat to be ‘n the same room with. You swear like a sailor, an’ make me laugh till I’m chokin’ on my own damn cigarette. Tell me what’s hurtin’ you, honey. I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can swear to you I’ll damn well try my best.” He responds, turning to hold your gaze as his own eyes widen, and his brows turn down. Puppy eyes, you think.

Your brain has gone from hazy to too fucking clear in a matter of five minutes, and now it feels like your thoughts are gonna come ripping out of your head. So you just blink at him, again, before reaching an unsteady hand out to cup his cheek. “I’m okay, I swear. Just-you remember that deal I had to cut last month? With the sicario? For intel on that lab?” Peña nods, and you continue. “Fucker led me to a dead end. Ambushed me. O-only got out ‘cause his gun jammed, and his child-soldier ran away. I just-this is so fucking dumb I’ve been in worse but- I can’t get it out of my head. The shit he said to me, the way he looked at me, t-touched me. I should be dead or worse, Peña. And I nearly was.“ you look down again, ashamed of the truth that’s spilling out of your mouth. It’s so small, so weak, you just want to fold into yourself and never come out. Your voice wobbles towards the end, tears filling your eyes as you turn your head away from the man you’ve wanted for so long to save whatever dignity you still have left. “‘N I can’t sleep anymore. Just see- or feel him every time. So thought I’d work for a bit. Clearly didn’t fucking work out, though.” small hiccups have started to punctuate your words, testament to the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Peña pulls up to an unfamiliar building and turns to you.

“‘S Javi, honey. Look at me, pretty baby.” He cradles your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to turn your head towards him. “None of that was stupid, okay? Come lie down at my place. I’ll sit in a damn chair next to you and fight him away if he comes in your dreams, sweetheart, okay? Nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Never letting any fuckers near you again.” Javi leans in to brush a kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the car and hooking his index and middle finger to beckon you too. You step out of the truck and towards him, smiling while swiping at your face. “Didn’t know this was what the girls meant every time they bragged about sleeping with you” you snark softly, with a teasing grin on your face as you reach him. Javi rolls his eyes playfully before unlocking the door.

“Ain’t gotta do no sleepin’ you don’t want to, honey. You’re here to get some rest. Be a good girl and sleep f’me, and I’ll keep you up for as long as you like after,” he throws over his shoulder with a matching grin and a wink.

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fluff #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña #steve murphy #narcos fanfiction #javi #soft javi #fluff #hurt/comfort #ive never done this before let’s see how this goes heehee #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagines #javier pena narcos #narcos #cool-iguana

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 months

Text

Rainbow Bridge

Summary: The reader is incredibly confused when in heaven one day, a dog she's never met before appears by her side...

Pairing: Dean x reader (in heaven)

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of pet death/human death

A/N: I wrote this for my fellow pet owners (and myself). Hopefully those little dudes over the rainbow bridge have their own kinds of adventures like these pups while they wait! (and all the chicken nuggies they can eat 😉)

_______

The air shifted, a warm and joyful presence filling the air. You glanced down in your kitchen, an adorable dog with long fur and pointy ears staring up at you with a wagging tail.

“Well good morning to you, cutie,” you laughed, bending down in your pajamas with your cup of coffee, giving the dog a few pets. “Who might you be?”

The dog woofed and the thought Miracle sprang into your head. That wasn’t entirely uncommon. Animals in the afterlife were able to communicate a bit better than they had when you were alive.

One of your own dogs you’d had when you were alive, your first dog ever, bounded upstairs from the playroom on the lower level that was for them to use as a way station. Sometimes they liked to stick around home, sometimes by your side and others they’d go off and visit their own animal friends they’d made. But generally they kept to themselves first thing in the day.

“This a friend of yours, baby?” you asked your little dog. He ran over to Miracle, sniffing intensely before he snorted. “No huh. Did you just die, Miracle? I know sometimes dogs are a little confused when they get here and you got your young, healthy bodies back.”

Miracle woofed with a slight head shake, your lips pursing. Your own dog pawed at you, resting a little foot on your arm. You hummed at him, the little guy sending you some positive feelings, sensing you were worried.

“Alright. I’ve never heard of a random dog appearing in heaven unless you request one. You show Miracle around the house and where he can do his business while I get ready. Then we’ll try to figure out who your owner is, okay?” Both dogs yelped happily and took off downstairs, a loud crash at the bottom as they slammed into your boot tray. “Careful! Just cause you can’t get hurt doesn’t mean you can be reckless!”

More than one dog barked back in response and you rolled your eyes, heading for your bedroom.

“At least I don’t have to pay vet bills for you guys anymore. Five dogs is only kind of a lot for one eternity.” You heard more barking and groaned. “I wasn’t complaining you mongrels! I was quite pleased to see your little faces when I died. I could have done with a little less face licking though.”

You swore you could hear the faint echo of laughter in their barks as you got ready for the day.

“If I’m not back by supper make sure you boys get some dinner,” you called, heading outside with Miracle. You loaded into your car and headed down the road, thinking you had a problem. Soon you were taking an off ramp you’d not seen before. You wound up in a mostly empty parking lot, Miracle following you out and into the lone building around.

“Take an issue form and fill out everything before returning it to the counter,” grumbled the guy behind the desk, shoving a clipboard towards you. You stepped through the empty waiting room, picking up the board. You opened your mouth to speak when he sighed. “The form is a requirement by the big man. I’m just doing my job.”

“How do you have a job which is arguably the equivalent of working at the DMV, but in heaven? Like, we don’t have jobs.” He flickered his eyes up at you, making you jump back when they flashed black.

“Demon, sweetie. It’s part of my rehab program so I can someday be like you. By then, some other schmuck in the program will have my job. No more questions.”

“Okay…” you said, grabbing a pen and taking a seat, Miracle laying down on the floor beside you. You stared at the form, frowning when you didn’t see your particular issue listed.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Demon,” you said, approaching the counter again, the guy rolling his eyes at you. “My problem doesn’t appear on the form?”

“That’s impossible. Those are the only issues possible of occurring in heaven.” You pointed at Miracle beside you, the guy standing to look down at him.

“I have no clue who this dog is and it’s not my dog’s friend. He just appeared next to me in my kitchen this morning,” you said. The demon stared at you, rubbing his temples.

“Remember your steps, remember your steps,” he muttered to himself before forcing a smile. “Listen. Dogs don’t get lost in heaven. Either you know his owner-”

“Nope. My dogs don’t recognize him.”

“Fine,” gritted out the demon. “Then you and the owner of this dog are soulmates in some way.”

You blinked at him, the man angrily typing on his keyboard.

“This dog belongs to a man named Dean Winchester. You and Dean Winchester were alive, somewhat, during the same time. He died a lot younger than you did. You two are…romantic soulmates,” he said, a fax machine going in the back. He got up and ripped off a sheet of paper, handing it to you. “Here’s his address. Now please go bother him instead of me.”

You rolled your eyes, ready to leave when you stopped, glancing down at Miracle. “Do you like, want to pet the dog?”

“Excuse me?” You turned around, the demon still on his feet.

“Well I mean, it’s probably been awhile since you’ve seen a dog or gotten to pet one. You can’t be that horrible if they’re letting you up here with the rest of us. So do you want to pet him?”

It was shocking how quickly the demon hopped over the counter and knelt down next to the dog, giving him a few pats and then a belly rub.

“I had a dog when I was a kid. I can’t wait to see her again once I get out of here,” he said, glancing up at you, seeming to forget he was a demon for a moment. “That was weird.”

“Dogs are kinda perpetually happy here and give off good energy. I’m sure your dog is looking forward to seeing you too,” you said as Miracle sat up and headed for the door. “Apparently I’m on the move. See ya around someday.”

“Yeah. Someday,” he said as you left. Five seconds later, now that you knew where you were going, you popped yourself over to this Dean Winchester’s place. You were standing outside a beautiful two story cabin on a lake, Miracle taking off in a sprint down a dock to where someone was sitting in a chair fishing.

Your heart felt funny as the man on the dock stood and turned around, cocking his head at you. He gave Miracle a good ruffle before he approached, meeting you halfway across his backyard.

“Hi,” he said with a smile, shaking his head. “I uh-”

You both jumped when your five dogs appeared, running and chasing around a ball in the yard, Miracle joining in after them.

“Your dog popped into my kitchen this morning. I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates. At least that’s what this paper says,” you said, the pack of dogs sprinting around the corner of the house. “I’ve had a few pups in my life.”

“Miracle could do with some siblings,” he said, smirking as you felt a cozy peace inside you. “I was wondering where he ran off to. He normally doesn’t stray far from home. Looks like he was off finding his mom.”

“I thought soulmates were supposed to like…snap together when they’re both in heaven,” you said. He smirked, pursing his lips. “What?”

“I probably wasn’t in heaven when you died. I was jumping around alternate worlds and you look very confused all of a sudden.” You nodded, staring at him wide eyed. “I’m a smidge of a rule breaker…and I kinda know Jack…and took down the old god.”

Your first instinct was to call him crazy but he had no reason to lie. Besides, something ached in his soul, like it had a little bruise on it. This man had known serious pain and then some when he was alive.

“You know, I killed vampires when I was alive. What’s something you did for fun?” he asked. Your jaw dropped, Dean chuckling. “Oh boy. Sweetheart, you and I have some catching up to do.”

“Hi baby,” you said that night as you and Dean laid on a blanket in the yard, your little guy crawling up on the blanket and settling in beside Dean. “Aw, he likes you.”

“He’s protective of you. I can feel it,” he said with a hum. “He hung out with your grandparents a lot after he died. Apparently while you were crying over him on earth, he was chowing down on some of your grandpa’s maple syrup bacon thinking mom’s being overdramatic, I’m gonna see her again. She worries too much.”

You sat up, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that? My grandparents told me they were with him until my parents got here and he stayed with them a while but dogs can’t talk to us like that here. We can sense them and stuff but we can’t know complete thoughts.”

Dean smiled, scratching behind the dogs ears.

“Well, I’m a little special. I worked a case where I could communicate with dogs once. It came back up here. This little guy adores the fuck out of you and wishes you hadn’t been so sad back then but he understands. He is pretty awesome,” laughed Dean.

“And he’s a little shit,” you giggled. “What else does he say?”

“He’s glad you got more dogs over your life and he’s glad you found me finally. Also if we don’t stop talking soon he’s going to go inside and sleep on our bed,” chuckled Dean. “Cranky baby, aren’t you?”

The dog snorted, stood up, licked your nose and trotted off inside with his chin turned up.

“Like I said, he’s a sassy little shit,” you chuckled, Dean pulling you closer. “So Dean. What do you got planned for the afterlife?”

“A bit of fishing here and there. Working on my car. Going out for a drink at the roadhouse. Hanging with my brother. Sneak out of heaven to get up to shit every once in a while, hopefully with you. How’s that sound?” he asked. You leaned over and kissed him slowly, rolling back with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Winchester. Time to start having some fun in eternity.”

___________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #dean x #dean winchester one shot

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mageofseven · 11 months

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How about a reader that was pregnant when they were chosen as an exchange student ? Like the baby's father is not in the picture and reader *isn't* involved with boys romantically and when the boys discover readers pregnant after lesson 16 they're just "oh Shi-"

This is an old ask from before my long ass hiatus, but I'm honestly still really interested in this.

Okay so here's some set up info for how Imma do this:

MC knew she was pregnant, but was so overwhelmed about it that she welcomed the fact that she was magically kidnapped into going to demon school and that she had something to distract herself from the literal growing problem in her uterus.

The baby was also transfered to the new body after what Belphie did to her.

Like it was requested, MC is not currently dating any of the Boys.

They found out because they had her get checked by a doctor despite Barbatos making sure she was okay with his time power; this was mostly done out of over-protectiveness and no one actually thought anything would come of it.

I don't do reader posts so obviously this will be MC.

Now that that's out of the way, let's give this a go!

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer:

Is visibly shocked by this and has MC explain herself.

When he hears how her boyfriend knocked her up and abandoned her not long before she was brought to the Devildom, the pride demon makes a mental note to ask her for the man's name at another time so he can handle that little pest.

Feels terrible guilty about what she went through and even worse that she went through it while pregnant.

I see Lucifer as this heavily anxious man with a soft spot for kids and that includes babies that are works-in-progress (WIP).

Hovers around her constantly after that, making sure she taking every vitamin and supplement she and her child needs.

Just becomes super protective of her while also trying to pretend he's not.

Eventually takes her off of cooking duty so she'll have one less thing to worry about.

Despite not being the father or having such a relationship with her, he takes full responsibility for all aspects of this from teleporting her here while pregnant to Belphie offing both her and her child in her last body.

Doesn't go as far as to call himself this child's father, but anyone who saw this man hovering over her would definitely think he was.

Like always, Lucifer just wants to take care of his family and now sees MC and her child as such.

Mammon:

Literally freaks out while trying to pretend he isn't.

To him, her being pregnant just made this whole situation 1000000x worse.

Feels bad that he didn't know about her kid.

Like, he's the brother whose been by her side the most and he never even noticed anything was off with her.

He's not the most observant man so I'm not surprised.

He's her First! She should have just told him, or so he tells her.

Keeps an extra close eye on her to keep this crazy freaking human from doing anything bad for herself or her kid

And let's face it, she literally got herself killed not long ago so anything can happen.

The further her pregnancy gets, the more this man tries to keep his brothers away from her.

He just extra possessive as time goes on.

I mean yeah, this kid ain't his but he wishes it was so freaking much but he's still gonna look after the two of them.

Honestly, this man wouldn't be able to handle a single other bad thing happening to his Human.

Leviathan:

Ohmanohmanohman--

Is really freaking out and doesn't even try to hide it.

I mean this is serious!

Not only did MC die but so did her WIP kid????

I mean yeah, they are both back but this all still sucks.

You know the phrase 'kicking a person while they're down'? Well this is like using a freaking flamethrower while the human was already down!

Honestly becomes super awkward with his Henry after learning about her pregnancy

But slowly gets used to it as he discovers that MC just wants him to treat her as he always has.

Yeah! He can do that!...kinda.

He feels bad that he can't help her through most of it.

This man knows absolutely nothing about pregnancy and feels like he is mediocre at comforting people at best.

Still, if she ever needs someone to distract her with anime so she doesn't have to think of the little WIP in her uterus then Levi is her man.

Satan:

Honestly...this man is less than thrilled.

MC is the first person he's ever truly gotten close to and that includes his 'brothers'

So to hear that the person he cares about most is pregnant...

Well on the plus side, he knows there's a human man in the other realm for him to torture so that makes him feel better.

Doesn't like kids, but is at MC's side as much as possible.

One of the brothers willing to hold her hair back during bouts of morning sickness.

Not one to hover, but does get a little protective when Belphie is in the same room as her.

Knows the Avatar of Sloth won't hurt her anymore but...well, he still can't get the image of MC's dead body out of his head

And angy boy is still angy at him for it.

Other than that, he reads a shit ton of pregnancy books to learn what MC's body is going through and different methods to comfort her through it.

Asmodeus:

Honestly, this usually chatty brother was speechless when it was announced.

When he saw all eyes fall on the human and make her overwhelmed, he ran to his friend and hugged her tightly.

Was the one to hype up the other guys and get everyone to say they'll take care of her and that they have her back

Because honestly, this woman and her child literally died for his family; you can bet your ass he's going to make sure each and every one of his brothers does their part in taking care of the pregnant human.

Doesn't immediately think about killing the runaway baby daddy, but if it becomes a family field trip to hunt the bastard and kill him, Asmo is so down for it.

Mostly focuses on what he can do for MC in the moment though.

Another brother to comfort her during morning sickness.

It's gross af but he uses it to remind his brothers that hey! I'm getting close to a vomiting woman each morning so y'all better be as dedicated to the cause as I am.

Beelzebub:

This man literally did nothing wrong, but acts as if it's all his fault.

So much happened in his family right under his nose and things led to such extremes that his twin literally killed this woman and her child.

More or less feels like he needs to step up and pay atonement for what his twin did

And is probably the brother who takes care of her the most.

This situation has shown how much he actually wants to be a parent one day

And literally asks MC later in her pregnancy if he can be her baby's daddy

He doesn't care about genetics at all, just wants MC to let him help her raise the child and make him a daddy 🥺

Literally the sweetest man to ever exist.

MC would be a fool not to accept.

Belphegor:

Probably the guiltiest of all of the men.

I mean, he did it. He killed MC and relished in it.

Granted, he didn't know she was carrying a little hitchhiker, but still.

Belphie lost himself in his pain to such a strong degree that...he wonders that even if he did know...would he have been able to stop himself from doing what he did

And honestly, the fact that he doesn't know scares the hell out of him.

Avoids MC for the first couple months of her pregnancy because honestly, he feels too guilty to even look at her

And... honestly, he doesn't know if he even trusts himself around her.

Thanks to Beel's encouragement, the sloth demon slowly finds himself interacting with the pregnant human

And eventually decides that the best way to atone for what he did (if it's even possible) is to take care of her and the kid the best he can.

He doesn't like kids and just sees pregnancy as unnecessary torture for people with uteruses

But honestly, none of that matters anymore.

He may not have been the one to knock the woman up, but he did fuck up the worst out of everyone in this situation.

Will feel better whenever the family hunting party starts and he can give that pathetic man a taste of what he deserves.

Looks like it's Human Season for this hunting demon.

Diavolo:

Also a man with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Other than the actual process of making the baby, everything that happened was either because of something he directly or indirectly did to start up the exchange program.

Also regrets not having regular check ups on his exchange students because surely they all would have discovered this sooner and prevented anything from happening to the pregnant woman.

Has regular doctor visits scheduled for MC to make sure she and her baby stay healthy and pays for all of it, including any medications she may need during this progress.

Pregnancy can be really fucking expensive, but the prince makes sure she never has to worry about that side of things.

Just focus on staying healthy and letting your baby grow, MC; he and the other men will handle everything else.

Barbatos:

Knew before everyone else did.

I mean, this man literally had to make sure the baby transfered over too.

This man is seriously a hero that doesn't get the credit he deserves nor does he seek such.

MC and her baby are safe now and that's all that matters to the butler.

Honestly frets over the woman on the inside, but shows no sign of it externally.

Is the man that takes her to all her doctors appointments and was there when she discovered the gender of her baby.

Congratulated her as she sobbed happy tears and was honestly grateful that he could share such a moment with her.

Honestly becomed really attached to MC during her pregnancy and looks forward to watching her child grow up.

Solomon:

Honestly, his intuition had been tingling for a while on this subject.

He suspected this pregnancy, but figured it was none of his business and didn't want to pry into the fellow human's personal life.

If he would have known such an event would happen with Belphie though, he would have stepped in and got answers.

He didn't though. The sorcerer had no clue how events were going to unfold.

Hindsight is telling him that he should have pryed more, but his manners told him it was right to respect the woman's privacy.

Doesn't do too much in regards to taking care of his friend since the demons seem to have it all covered and even seem to somewhat resent the sorcerer when he tries.

Believe it's better not to step on any toes, so to speak.

Is still a good friend to MC though and always offers an ear if they need to vent about the process with someone.

Simeon:

This all happened before the pregnancy had progressed enough for him to sense the baby.

He did however sense...something within the human since he met her, but didn't understand what.

Hindsight is really hurting this poor angel's heart 😔

Become the woman's biggest support in an emotional sense.

Pregnancy is hard and hormones flare and everything can seem so stressful, especially to a scared single mom.

This man is often the one comforting her when she breaks down into tears, even when it's over small stuff like someone ate the last cookie or she lost her pen.

He makes sure MC knows how strong she is and that she will make it through this this difficult time.

Luke:

Demons!!! Back away from the pregnant woman or this chihuahua will bite.

Okay, not really, but the brothers make this joke a lot.

Luke is very protective of MC in this situation.

Since he is just a child, he wasn't told what happened between her and Belphie in complete detail.

Really just thinks the stupid demon hurt her feelings and the angelic boy will not allow it to happen again!

Grows increasingly curious as MC's belly grows; angels don't have kids in this way so this boy has a lot of questions about what's happening to her body.

The fact that there's an actual baby just chilling and growing in her belly boggles this boy's mind.

Is honestly excited for MC's baby and feels like he about to be come a big brother!

This boy is determined to do his part and take care of her just like the adults do.

Mostly just keeps her company and bakes for her when her cravings give her a sweet tooth.

Little Lukey keeps her spirits up and MC loves him for it.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me undateables #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke

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