#Man what a whiplash ending that was LMAO

[frudoo]

A Moth Into Flame — Simon “Ghost” Riley

Y’all… this one is sloppy and kinda lazy??? Idk I had a plan but then it kinda crumbled. If there are plot holes or it just doesn’t make sense… it is what it is LMAO. 🫶

Warnings: SMUT, fem!reader, unprotected PIV, creampie, Simon giving poor reader whiplash but she’s fine with it I guess

MDNI

You can smell his cologne even over the pungent aroma of your whiskey, and you suddenly wish that you had just stayed home. Your body tenses at the sound of those all-too-familiar combat boots hitting the floor. He doesn’t allow himself to be heard unless he wants to make his presence known—he always has been deliberate. You feel the unmistakable coarseness of his hands resting themselves on your shoulders before gently grazing their way down your bare arms. You try to hide the shudder that runs through your body, but he sees. He always sees.

“Save a seat f’you,” he whispers, his voice a soft breath against the shell of your ear.

He trails his hand down the curve of your spine to give your ass a firm squeeze, and as quickly as he had approached, he’s gone. You choke down the rest of your whiskey quickly, ignoring the searing burn it leaves in your esophagus. Your eyes scan the bar for the large, imposing figure you’ve grown to know far too well before finding him in the round booth near the back. He’s with his mates, of course, the ones he never lets you say hello to before he’s pulling you out of the bar and taking you back to his apartment.

Those deep molasses eyes beckon you over without having to say a word. Yeah, you should’ve stayed home, because you know exactly how this night is going to end.

Silently you approach, grimacing at the feeling of the cracked red leather of the booth scratching the backs of your thighs as you slid in beside Simon. He wasn’t having that. A strong tattooed arm wraps itself around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. His mitts unashamedly squeeze your supple tits before ultimately resting on your waist. You jab him in the gut with your elbow, but he only gives you an amused grunt in response.

“Finally lettin’ us meet yer lass, LT?” The mohawked man raises an eyebrow, sucking his teeth as he looks you over. “She’s bonnie.”

Simon shrugs, tilting his head to press a kiss to the side of your face through his mask. Despite the fact that the guy had been looking at you like a piece of meat, there was something charming about him, blue eyes holding a boyish innocence, but the smirk he wears gives away his true nature. There’s something captivating about all of the roguish men, but none quite as… alluring as the enigma whose lap you sit on.

The other two men say nothing about your presence and instead shift the conversation back to something you can’t understand. Not that you’d be able to focus, anyway, with the way Simon’s grasping your hips to move you over slightly when he wants to take a drink or add something to the discussion. His hands are so warm that you can feel it through the thin fabric of your dress, and it excites you more than you’d like to admit. You know what those hands can do.

He’s distracted, taken a break from tormenting you with those gentle touches, but it doesn’t help the white-hot desire that’s been building up in your belly, fogging up your head. To go from too much attention to too little won’t do at all. You can beat him at his own game.

You pretend to listen to whatever the bearded man with the weird hat is saying, not looking to draw any attention to yourself—at least, not from anyone other than Simon. You reach forward to grab a pretzel from the bowl on the table, pushing your ass back to deliberately rub against his crotch. He grunts and gives your hip a squeeze, a warning. Bingo. You feign ignorance and lean forward again, this time rolling your hips to add some more friction.

Simon grabs your throat to tip your head back, a threatening undertone in his murmur.

“Playin’ a dangerous game there, bird.”

You snicker, giving another grind of your ass against his growing erection—pouring gasoline onto the fire. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips almost painfully, and his bark is a little sharper now, more akin to a bite.

“Fuckin’ quit it.”

A moth into flame.

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes before you’re forced out of the booth, his large hand splayed across your lower back as he ushers you through the crowd, toward the bathroom. You turn to look at his mates over your shoulder, and the one in the ball cap gives you a cheeky wink right before the door slams shut and the only thing in your view is Simon with his balaclava pulled up just above his nose. Without warning, he slams your back against the wall and kisses you with a fervor you’ve only felt in more private areas with him. You moan against his lips, moving to wrap your arms around his neck, but he’s quicker, pinning your wrists above your head to keep you in place.

“Gonna teach y’some bloody manners,” he grumbles against your skin, nipping his way down your jawline and neck. “I like my pets domesticated.”

You gasp as he delivers a particularly harsh bite right to the middle of your throat, spit-slick tongue scalding against the wound. It’ll leave a nasty bruise but you couldn’t care less, clenching your thighs together in an attempt to get some much-needed friction. Simon tuts, briefly nibbling on your lobe before muttering into your ear.

“Spread ‘em.”

A simple command, but you scramble to obey, a soft whine escaping your parted lips. He’s quick to move his free hand down your stomach and between your thighs, cupping your mound roughly. You buck your hips, clothed clit rubbing right up against the heel of his palm. He groans, releasing your wrists to cusp your jaw instead.

“Knickers are fuckin’ soaked, lovie. All f’me?” His dark eyes bore into your own, fingernails leaving creases in the flesh of your cheek.

“All for you,” you reply breathlessly, grabbing onto his biceps to brace yourself for what comes next.

Simon pushes your panties aside and swipes the tip of his middle finger through your slit to collect the sticky dew of your arousal. He circles your clit a few times before teasing your entrance. He swirls his fingertip before pushing inside, all the way to the knuckle. He huffs amusedly at the mewl you let out.

“Mm, she’s droolin’ f’me, baby,” he whispers, his other hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you in for another kiss.

Without warning, he slips another finger inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot perfectly. You let out a keen moan and tilt your head back, too absorbed in pleasure to acknowledge the dull pain that comes when you hit the wall. Simon smiles, licking the tip of your nose teasingly.

“Tha’s the spot,” Simon coos, mouth falling open in the same fashion as yours.

His eyes never leave your face, transfixed on every twitch of your eyebrows and quiver of your lips. He’d argue that he’s more drunk on you than the whiskey he’d been enjoying just a few minutes ago. He pumps his fingers quicker, harder, attacking your neck with more soft kisses and nips. He chuckles when he feels your gummy walls clamping onto his fingers, your nails digging into the flesh of his biceps and leaving half-moons as a result. Simon doesn’t mind.

“Y’close, baby?” He hums, pulling away from your neck to press his forehead against yours.

“Y-yeah,” you pant, opening your eyes to stare into his, deep, dark with desire and burning with passion.

“Cum f’me,” he whispers, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and massaging your g-spot in mind-numbing thrusts of those thick fingers. “There y’go, lovie, squeeze m’fingers jus’ like tha’.”

Simon moans alongside you as you reach your peak, lips curling into a pleased smirk. The second he feels your walls ease up he pulls his fingers out, causing a whine to slip out of your throat. He clicks his tongue, fingertips wrapping around your throat and squeezing gently.

“On your knees.”

You do as he says, glazed eyes just barely making out the sight of his veiny hands unbuckling his belt. Simon pulls his cock free of its confines, hissing at the sensation of cold air hitting the sensitive skin. His tip is an angry fuschia, dripping rich pearls of precum, and fuck—he must have been just as desperate as you. You’re still in a daze from the blinding ecstasy he put you through, staring at his pretty dick with your hands resting in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow beneath his mask, snapping his fingers at you.

“Well? Y’wanted this fuckin’ cock so bad, so suck it,” he spits, pushing on the back of your head and guiding you towards his throbbing erection.

Pulled out of your hazy state, you stick out your tongue the way you know he loves, grabbing the base of his dick and pulling down the thin layer of foreskin to reveal the thick crown beneath. You smack the tip against the middle of your tongue, moaning in unison with its owner as you stare up at him through fluttering lashes. Simon looks so fucking good like this—one hand rested on your head, the other bracing himself on the cool wall behind you. Unable to resist any longer, you wrap your lips around the tip and suckle softly, swiping your tongue through the slit to collect all of that delicious, salty precum.

“Oh, 'ell yeah,” Simon grunts, chin falling to rest right above his clavicle, drooping eyes focusing on your own. “Always take me so well.”

You smile the best you can with your mouth full, resting your hands on his muscular thighs before taking him deeper. You’re always surprised by his girth no matter how many times you hook up—such a fat cock that your lips have to stretch almost painfully to accommodate. He grunts as you flatten your tongue on the bottom of his dick, massaging the bulging vein and hollowing your cheeks for better suction. One of your hands moves up to cup his balls in your palm, gently squeezing. He shudders and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth; he’s already so close.

“Enough,” Simon pants, tightening his grip on your skull and carefully pulling your mouth off of his cock with a wet pop. “Fuck. What the ‘ell are you doin’ t’me, woman?”

You smile as he cups your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in for a feverish kiss. His tongue prods your mouth, running across your teeth and tongue and everywhere he can reach. Then, he stops, giving your ass a sharp smack.

“Turn around and bend over tha’ sink,” he instructs breathlessly, before deciding that would take too long, instead grabbing your hips and manhandling you into position.

You barely get any warning before he’s shoving your dress up to your waist and tearing off your panties. You gasp and turn to glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already pocketing the ruined fabric.

“M’sorry, lovie. I’ll buy a new pair f’you… ‘ell, I’ll buy anythin’ y’want. Jus’ let me… ah fuck!” Simon throws his head back as he slides to the hilt inside of you in one blissful, searing stroke.

“Fuck!” You whimper, the painful stretch of your cunt struggling to suck him in causing you to hold onto the cold porcelain for dear life.

Simon wastes no time before starting to pump in and out slowly, giving you just a pinch of time to adjust. Then he takes hold of your hips and ruts into you with reckless abandon, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood trying to stifle his moans. You’re not so careful about your volume, squealing and babbling with every thrust he deals. He grunts, moving one hand to cover your mouth, pulling you back into his chest.

“Tha’ whore mouth o’yours is gonna get us in trouble,” he grumbles through gritted teeth though makes no effort to let up on his devastating thrusts.

“Drive me bloody fuckin’ insane, y’know tha’? Perfect, pretty baby, no fuckin’ good f’me.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the fat tip of his cock kisses your sweet spot with perfect precision. Every stroke, every whisper, every smack of his hips against your ass has you seeing stars. You can feel the mascara and sweat dripping down your face, and you get the feeling that the rest of you looks just as fucked. You turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror, wiping away the fog to watch as Simon fucks you absolutely stupid. You meet his gaze in the reflection and he snickers, pulling the straps of your dress down so that your tits spill out from the fabric.

“Yeah, y’know you’re fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters, alternating between roughly palming at your breasts and tweaking your pert nipples. “Such a hot mess f’me.”

You’re dangerously close, teetering on the edge of that earth-shattering euphoria, and you know that Simon knows—that’s why you let out a defeated sob when he pulls out of you completely, leaving your pussy to clench around the newfound emptiness.

“W-why did you-?”

“Haven’t learned your lesson yet, bird,” he sniffs, tugging your head backwards so that his lips meet your ear. “Apologize for teasin’ me in front o’my mates like tha’.”

“Simon, please,” you beg, hot tears streaming down your puffy cheeks.

Simon tuts, giving your ass a couple of sharp smacks. You yelp, body jolting forward with each painful contact.

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” You whine, fingertips prying at the sink as he glides the head of his cock through your glistening folds.

“For wha’?” He kisses his way down your neck, giving both nipples a rough pinch.

“For teasing you in- in front of your friends,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as his tip catches on the hood of your puffy clit.

“There’s m’good girl,” he purrs, running his hands down to your waist and giving it a soft squeeze. “Next time y’act up like tha’, you’re not gettin’ off this easy.”

“Please make me cum,” your bottom lip quivers as your eyes meet in the mirror once again, desperate for him to tame the fire he’s ignited in your belly and heart.

“Turn back around,” Simon whispers, stepping back to give you room to obey. “Wanna see tha’ pretty face when y’do.”

You turn to face him and wrap your arms around his neck, gasping softly as he cups your bottom in his hands, hoisting you up. He presses your back to the wall with your legs around his waist and kisses you again, but it’s much more tender than the previous ones. He gasps into your mouth as he pushes inside of you again, hands still firmly on your ass to keep you secure as he builds up a pace once more.

“Fuckin’ love you, y’know tha’?” He murmurs against your lips between kisses, his groans turning into softer moans as he gets closer to his climax. “Never jus’ a bloody hookup t’me.”

“S-Simon-” you furrow your eyebrows, pulling back to look at him, shocked by his confession.

“M’sick of actin’—shit—like this is jus’ a good fuck. We both know it’s no’,” he heaves, lewd wet sounds bouncing off the walls as he quickens his pace. “No more fuckin’ lyin’. You’re mine.”

The back of your head falls against the hard wall as you feel the coil in your tummy about to snap, walls contracting around his cock so tightly, like they’re trying to force him out.

“There y’go, pretty baby. Cum f’me, yeah? Fuck, please cum f’me. Cum on my cock, lovie, y’can do it.”

That’s all it takes before you’re crying out his name, your entire body feeling weightless and whole all at the same time. You think that Simon’s moans might be louder than your own, whimpering into your ear and you swear that you heard a sob right before he came. He holds himself deep inside of you as ropes of hot, thick semen fill your womb, refusing to move until the air finally settles between the two of you. He presses his forehead against yours once again, honeyed brown eyes staring into your glossy ones.

“I meant tha’. Every bloody word,” he admits, nuzzling his nose against your sweaty cheek. “You’re m’girl.”

Simon carefully pulls out of you with a gross squelch, helping you back onto your feet. He repositions your straps so that your breasts are in place and covered once again, as you tuck his softening cock back into his pants and buckle his belt. He cups your face in his hands and grins softly, wiping away the black-stained tears on your face with his thumbs.

“Come home with me tonight?” You ask gently, leaning into his touch.

“Always.”

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Hunger | Chapter 4

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 7.3k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

You immersed yourself in a warm bath not long after returning to your room. Your bathtub was a large square with more than enough room in it. It could easily fit another person your size, but probably only one Sukuna, who it was likely measured after. Its large, flat edges were slightly angled to let any excess water flow back into the tub. A slatted bamboo platform went across the expanse and held a few different washing instruments as well as a small towel. You always grew up with little crates that you would bathe in if you even got to bathe. On a few jobs you had gotten to use nicer ones, but never one this nice. It was definitely a palace grade bathtub.

Your servants had asked if you required any assistance, to which you said no, and sent them off. You wanted to be alone for a minute and think about what the fuck just happened. You had just been giggling, joking, and fantasizing about the man that ripped apart your hand yesterday. And you were pretty damn sure he was doing the exact same, but why? You doubted he regretted what he did, especially since he threatened to do it again, but today he felt different. He wasn’t holding his title over you, he was just being with you. It felt like he was a completely different person and was giving you whiplash.

You sank lower into the tub until your nose barely stayed above the water. He was such an asshole. You still wanted to rip his arms off, but you also wanted to have them touch you again. You didn’t know if it was him in particular or just the fact it had been a few weeks since you had been with someone. In the weeks leading up to your departure, you had either been busy with work or working on a new technique Ieiri had come up with. The work was needed, though. As a technique, you could fully utilize it, but you were having some issues manifesting a curse that could accurately use it too. So it was good that you put in extra time experimenting with it while you were still with Shoko, but your body hated you for it all the same. Your clit still absolutely throbbing from your interaction with Sukuna. Now your joke of fucking the King started to grow meaning you never meant it to have.

You pulled your head underwater and curled up along the bottom of the tub. You shouldn’t want him. You should want to kill him for being an asshole. You always hated people that stayed with people that hurt them. It should be obvious that if someone hurts you, you shouldn’t stay within their grasp. Hell, in your opinion, you should get even with interest. Hurt them how they hurt you and then some. But you weren’t really hurt were you? You were just pissed he was so bipolar and refused to use his words when upset.

You traced along the hand he had wounded. It was like it had never happened. You didn’t even remember the pain now. It was becoming a distant memory. You pulled yourself to sit back up in the tub and looked at your hand once more before moving it to grab the towel on your tray. You folded it and used it to cushion the edge of the tub as you laid your head back. You closed your eyes and breathed in the aroma of lilacs and vanilla. The palace had so many imported scents you had never smelled before. You wondered where they got them all and how they were made. You had heard that the kingdom threw different festivals in the King’s honor that attracted a lot of merchants and wondered if they would sell them there. You bet there were all kinds of goods you normally couldn’t get your hands on sold there.

People aside, your stay at the palace was quite nice. Your food made you feel ways you never knew it could. There were so many spices you had never tasted before and so many textures you had never felt. You wanted to go to the kitchen one day and watch the chef cook. You wondered if you would be allowed to cook as well. Probably not in the Palace’s kitchen, but you weren’t above cooking outside. Although, you weren’t sure how Sukuna would feel about you setting a fire outside and cooking. It might be a very classless look for you. But realistically, you were indeed lacking class. You had never thought that you would end up where you were. You went from being an orphan sold for sex to the King’s guard. You went from being scared of the world you couldn’t see, to being able to drink in the world’s sites without trepidation. You used to beg and scrounge for food, killing when necessary. Now you had culinary masterpieces delivered to your door at least three times a day. Being here, you realized why your town was looked down upon. From the outside, it looked like a bunch of stray dogs fighting for scraps in a town that was barely standing. If you had only ever lived life like this, that would have been all you thought of it. You wouldn’t be able to understand what made it so great. But you were grateful for your past and upbringing, it allowed you to grow up without anything veiling reality. You saw the world for what it was, saw how people acted when they thought no one was watching, when they thought they were strong. Humans hated curses but failed to admit they were just as disgusting and vile as them. They refused to take credit for their part in creating them. The Mother was part of their creation, sure, but she existed in a world without curses for quite some time. Her power only grew into cursed energy when humans came along. Before she was just the darkness, a necessary opposite for light to exist. Human thoughts, their fears, dark desires, unchecked emotions, those are what opened the door for cursed energy.

After your bath, you had decided to go to the library you had recently heard of. One of the servants was kind enough to tell you about it, after hearing that you were asking about what to put on your shelves. You walked along the wooden floors towards the west wing of the castle. Simple, black chandeliers lit with Sukuna’s cursed energy, guided your path in the areas cut off from the rays of the sun. High, domed ceilings made from intricately designed tiles hung above you. Each design was bound to a square bordered by black trim and gold corners. You had seen paintings of previous palaces’ ceilings and the art displayed within greatly differed. Others often showcased aspects of nature brought to life by various colors. These were a dark red with black ink depicting scenes of terror. You didn’t have to look at all of them to know they each depicted acts of violence Sukuna prided himself on.

The door to the library was different from the door to your chambers. Yours was made of black stained wood that was divided into sections by metal bars that linked in the middle to make Sukuna’s seal. This one was made with Zelkova wood left in its natural amber color, adorned with matching knobs lining the edges, and Sukuna’s seal burned into the middle. It was quite pretty, really. You grabbed the ornate metal handle and granted yourself entry to the room beyond. You were met with a room bigger than you had expected and absolutely packed with books. It had shelves lining the perimeter as well as in rows throughout the room. There were even piles of books stacked in different open spaces tied together by red string. You hadn’t thought of Sukuna to be one to care much about reading, but you were obviously wrong.

You walked inside and started looking around. The amount of books felt a little overwhelming, some were even in languages you didn’t recognize. Underneath the books, on the edge of the shelves, there were categories carved into the wood. Currently you were in politics, which you couldn’t care less about, so you wondered out. You eventually found the science section with books ranging from anatomy to topics you had never heard of. You grabbed and looked at a few before reshelving them. Their contents either evading your comprehension or boring your interest.

Eventually, you found a book with what you were looking for. It was a book on the energy within everything and the connection between it all. Most recently, you had been working on various techniques that would allow you to morph something’s makeup just by tapping into its energy. The cursed technique you had perfected prior to leaving home allowed you touch any item and reshape it at will. You could combine and divide energies to suit whatever purpose you needed. You could even change your own energy to mirror another. Paired with your technique to slip into people’s minds, it would be a very useful infiltration tactic. You had experimented in a few different ways when trying to create a curse that could use it, but it proved to be difficult. They always ended up lacking intelligence or imagination. You had tried using your prior methods when creating intelligent curses, but it became tricky to stabilize this time since the curse would be able to fully change their own makeup. They always ended up screwing themselves up beyond repair.

While you were there you decided to look around at other topics. You got a book rooted in fantasy that seemed promising for when you got bored or wanted to escape for a little bit, and a few volumes of martial arts you hadn’t heard of.

By the time you were done, your hands were full and your servants quickly offered their hands instead. You were about to walk out when Geto entered the room. You were behind a few aisles of books, so you couldn’t see him, but you could tell he knew you were here from the way he beelined towards you. Within a few seconds he was turning into the aisle you stood in.

“Wow, I didn’t know your kind could read”, he said while walking up towards you with a smile.

“Wow, you’re openly admitting you don’t know something so common,” you joked back while giving him a very judgy once over, “talk about embarrassing.”

He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to say something before tongueing the inside of his cheek while smiling. He raised his hands in submission, “Got me there. So what are you reading?” He approached your servants before picking up the fantasy book you chose, which you quickly grabbed from him and hid. It one-hundred precent was a dirty little book to help you through your dry spell and you didn’t need him knowing that. He had read it before though so he knew exactly what was in the contents.

“Not really any of your business, is it,” you asked while withholding the book from him.

“I suppose not, but I will tell you that this one has better sex scenes”, he says while handing you the book he had brought in.

You cleared your throat of the slight embarrassment you felt while accepting the book he held out. “I guess I will be the judge of that.”

“I guess so,” he says while smirking at you. “How have things been? I heard you trained with the King this morning and it ended with both of you smiling. I guess all is forgiven or what?”

Your servants all suddenly became very interested in the books around them and the shelves they were on. You weren’t worried about them hearing though. You had been in their minds and knew they didn’t dare gossip about anything that involved the King.

“I don’t know. He seemed really different today, like the total polar opposite of yesterday. I am pretty sure he encouraged me to yell at him and even joked a bit with me. He might’ve been nice just to learn what I was doing and get me to teach him, though. He did threaten to dismantle my other hand, but that was about the only thing he did that matched with yesterday. His threat didn’t really seem to carry any weight behind it. Like I said, I think he was just saying stuff to get me to break formality and yell at him. Not that it really matters I guess. Trying to find out why he does the things that he does seems like a moot point.”

“You joked with the King…and he joked back,” he asks, blinking a few times.

“Yea, I didn’t know he had it in him either but it happened all the same. He seems to be full of surprises I guess”, you said as you lifted your foot behind you and used the toe of your shoe as an anchor while you rolled your ankle around.

“Well I suppose. It is definitely the first time I have heard of it. I mean I have heard of him sadistically joking with his victims, but not in a casual setting”, he says. “But I am glad things went better for you today.” He smiles at you again before awkwardly standing there looking around.

“Me too, and thank you for checking in. I appreciate the gesture. But I won’t take up anymore of your time. I am sure there is a new smutty book waiting to be read by you”, you said with a smile while straightening your back and starting out of the aisle.

“Don’t forget to let me know which one you liked better”, he shouts after you.

“Will do”, you shout back before exiting.

You spent the rest of the day reading the book on energy you had gotten. You considered reading your fantasy books to find out what scenes Geto was talking about, but you figured you should at least start the book you had originally gone for. You had gotten about a quarter of the way through before dozing off in a fitful nap.

The area around you was damp and cold. Your skin had goosebumps shaking across it as you held your knees. Your whole body hurt. Your jaw was sore from being forced open for a prolonged amount of time, your lips were swollen and scabbing over from being bitten and slapped, your wrists and shoulders hurt from being unnaturally bound for so long, your legs were sore from being pushed beyond the limits of your flexibility, and your throat burned from how many screams forced their way out of the acid stained walls.

There was movement across from where you laid. You couldn’t see anything but you could see her. It was like she was inside and outside of your mind at the same time. Her eyes were black voids that seemed to hungrily devour the light like an all consuming abyss split into two. Her jaw hung from her face, only attached by skin that was stretched taut. Inside her mouth seemed to be stained black as if a fire had burned soot stains into it. Her hair was as black as her eyes and seemed to wriggle and writhe like thousands of dark little worms suspended in the air yet forced down by gravity. She comes to you often these days. At first, you were scared of her and pushed her away. Now, you feel comfort in not being alone in your cage. She never spoke to you…not until that day.

Hands reached all over your body in the dark as men laughed. You were just an object of release for them. You weren’t human to them, what you felt didn’t matter. Your cries had died in your throat a while ago as you disassociated from your body. There you found her. Somewhere dark within your mind, she was standing with her hand reaching out. Anytime, you allowed yourself to fall inside that void that grew within you, swallowing up more and more of you with every inch it gained, you found her. Always with her hand outstretched. Always waiting patiently for the day you inevitably took it. You knew nothing would be the same if you took it. You knew you truly wouldn’t be human anymore. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Because you really fucking hated humans in all honesty.

That day you couldn’t take it anymore. All you wanted to do was stab the men around you until they weren’t even recognizable. You wanted to make them pay. To experience all of the pain and fear you felt because of them. You wanted not to be weak anymore. So you allowed the abyss to swallow you, to make you forget everything about yourself as you put your hand into hers and she smiled. Pointed teeth braised in thick black liquid peeked through her lips, the gelatinous liquid started gushing through her teeth and onto the ground as she continued to smile. You didn’t notice but your face was mirroring hers as blood flooded from your mouth. You don’t remember how it got there but you know it tasted of freedom. A taste you wanted to experience again and again.

You awoke with drool dribbling out of your mouth and pain in your neck from falling asleep at your dining table. You slowly sat up, groaning as your muscles announced their dissatisfaction with your decision. You put your hands on your lower back and pushed on it as you arched backwards. You felt pops ripple up your spine before rolling your neck to allow it to pop too. You hadn’t dreamt of that day in quite some time. The day you first used cursed energy. When you told the Mother of the girl she chuckled. She told you that cursed energy can manifest in everyone differently. Yours had built up over years of agony and inadvertently created the technique you first learned— transmutation. Your thoughts of wanting to be stronger than you were and looking like you felt mixed with the built up energy had created an evolved form of you. It was then she told you how big of a part thought played in the creation of cursed energy.

You hadn’t used that form in so long. One of the conditions for using it was to release all of the cursed energy you had stored. The more you had, the stronger the form was. You still used a decent amount of energy for general things and creating curses, but you also stored a great amount. Like any you collected from draining other sorcerers was immediately stored. There was another downside to it as well. It made you go more feral than you could control. Once you turned, you destroyed everything and everyone in your path until you depleted your energy and changed back.

The last time you used it, you blacked out for 2 weeks and turned 12 towns into utter bloodbaths. You had lost yourself in your anger and blacked out. When you had finally awoken, you were being wheeled away in a wheelbarrow full of pieces of human remains. Authorities had thought you were a dead body with how covered in blood you were. You laid in the pile you were dumped in for a few days, eating the remains around you to regain your strength. Once able, you blindly stumbled into the snow. You walked until you found a hut with a man living in it. You knocked on the door crying and told him you had been attacked and that you were blind and scared. He took you in without a second thought. Afterall, you were just a harmless child crying for your “recently lost” parents. He was so nice to you. He sat you in front of the fire and helped wipe all of the blood off of you while trying to console you. He even gave you new clothes and respectfully turned around when you went to change. But when he turned away from you a hatchet appeared in his skull. You remember the sounds he made as he fell to the floor, the fear and confusion clouding his energy as he looked up at you. You ripped the hatchet from his head and chopped him into pieces. Some of him you set up as bait for other animals, and some of him you ate when no other food was available. There, you lived a quiet life for a few months until the Mother stumbled upon you. Thinking back on it, you were a monster before she ever turned you into her spawn. Maybe that was why she chose you.

You walked towards the training grounds the next morning just as you said you would. The air was brisk with a slight chill, which was odd since it was summer. Its oddness became rationalized as you sensed Uruame’s energy in the air. You turned the corner to see them there already staring you down.

As you stepped through the archway leading into the area you could sense cursed energy rushing towards you. You jumped from where you stood and grabbed onto the ridge of the arch as the ground below you turned into ice.

“Y’know there are better ways to ask me to leave. Like with words for example”, you said with great annoyance. It was way too early for this bullshit. They better just be playing around for their sake because you were not in the mood for an actual fight.

Ice shot up from the ground, right for you. Tch. Does this asshole really think they can hit me? You pulled yourself to the realm between and watched them from it. They had surrounded themselves with ice while looking around for you. Their hands were poised and ready to attack when you appeared. Normally, you would have played with them, allowed them to feel like they had a chance of winning before squashing them like the bug they were. Not today. Not after being stuck in memory lane last night. You were hungry for blood, it had been days since you killed. Days full of you taking hits and putting up with bullshit you shouldn’t have to.

You appeared in front of them, their sad blockade of ice shattering from the force of your energy being unleashed. Your hand shot to their throat, fingertips digging into the skin as you lifted them from the ground. Their eyes widen as they told their ice to impale and shred you, but it didn't listen. Your energy was already flooding their body and taking control of their technique. They could feel it. They started letting out screams as their own technique bloomed inside their blood. It tore through vessels and skin as the shards of ice grew.

“I told you to use your words. Now why did you—“, you felt Sukuna’s hand about to grab but you pushed him away with your energy.

You turned from Uruame to see Geto by where you entered, the ice still on the ground spiking upwards. Sukuna landed on his feet after being repelled and looked fucking pissed.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, BRAT?”, he screamed at you as he started pushing against the force field around you. His steps were small and slow, but they continue towards you all the same.

“ME? YOUR ASSHOLE SERVANT ATTACKED ME AND WOULDN’T RESPOND WHEN I ASKED WHY!”, you screamed back at him.

“I don’t think she is lying, King Sukuna. Her trail puts her here and jumping up there before appearing where she is now. I think we should all just calm down and talk about this”, he said while trying to diffuse the situation.

Sukuna looks at Geto and the ice he was referring to. He didn’t think you would attack Uruame without being provoked, but he didn’t know why Uruame would attack you either. He knew they didn’t like you but they had never acted without permission before. “(Y/N) let Uruame go so we can settle this”.

You looked at him then back at Uruame. They were bleeding from multiple places where the ice had torn through them, and one of their eyes was just a frozen ball waiting to shatter. You wanted to finish the job. Wanted to see their insides splayed open for you like a present.

“(Y/N), please”, Geto said as he looked at you with pleading eyes.

You rolled your eyes and sighed before releasing Uruame to fall to the ground. The ice dissipated and your barrier dropped. Sukuna appeared between the two of you in an instant. You gave you a look radiating murder before bending down to Uruame’s level.

“Did you start this”, he asked while propping them up.

“They aren’t good for you. You haven’t been yourself since you heard about them. You had me stalk them for months before finally summoning them. And now you allow their insolence and disrespect. We know nothing about her or what she is and yet you welcome her into your palace and allow her to roam free. She—“, Sukuna slammed their head into the ground.

Geto winced at the sight of his comrade’s skull getting smashed, but you smiled. The sight and sound his skull made as Sukuna crushed it lit a fire deep within you. Pesky piece of shit. You only wished it was you who got to do it.

“(Y/N)”, Sukuna said.

“Yes, King Sukuna?”

“Don’t let them die”, he said, shooting you a cold look promising similar treatment if you fail.

“Yes, King Sukuna”, you replied with a smile allowing your power to seep back into them and regenerate their wounds.

Sukuna smashed in their face with all four of his fists over and over before stomping and jumping on their body. He then began grabbing and tearing away pieces of flesh, some eaten by the mouth that had appeared on his hand. Every now and then he would even dip his head down and bite out chunks of them. He ripped off their arms and legs, watching as they regrew in an instant. He even ripped off their head before beating them with it. He looked like a wild animal as every inch of his skin became covered in blood. The display stoked that fire inside you until liquid started to pour out of your lower lips. Sukuna’s pants started to bulge as his own arousal grew from tearing apart and eating his friend. His insults and the sound of Uruame’s flesh squelching and bones snapping filled the air. Blood pooled around you like an ever growing river. This goes on for at least an hour and neither you nor Geto moved an inch. You both watched what happened to people the King actually likes when they cross him. Normally, it was Sukuna healing them while beating them. Now that he didn’t have to bother with it he was going all out.

His assault finally comes to an end and he just stares down with disdain at Uruame before looking at you. He walked over to you and gripped your jaw with his bloody hands. “Geto, take Uruame and leave. No one is allowed to enter this area until I say otherwise. Go. Now.”

Geto briefly looked at you before picking up Uruame and quickly leaving the area.

As soon as they’re gone, Sukuna started petting your hair with one hand, another still gripping your chin, one holding your hip with his thumb rubbing patterns into it, and the last one on the small of your back. “You did such a good job keeping them alive for me. I never had so much fun torturing someone. They all would’ve died somewhere in the middle of it when I stopped concentrating on healing them”, he said while looking you in the eyes.

“What did they mean when they said you stalked me for months”, you asked as you rested your hands on his forearms.

He sighed and looked down for a minute. “It wasn’t in a weird way. I just wanted to know if you were the real deal. I had heard of a sorcerer not restrained by technique that worked as a contract killer. I wanted to see what all you could do and when I was confident you were strong, I had Geto go retrieve you. But I still needed to see for myself, so that’s why I sparred with you in the throne room. But you proved your worth to me”.

He pulled you close to him, his face hovering over yours. “You proved you were made for me. Made to be able to take my strength, made to empower me, made to show me my potential in cursed energy, made for me to bite, made to challenge me.”

His lips were right against yours now. Even through all of Uruame’s blood you could smell his scent. Your eyes flickered between his as your pulse quickened from the unfolding moment. You could feel his dick pressing against your abdomen from how close you were, making both of your breaths grow short and quick. You knew this was crazy. He was covered in blood and still had pieces of flesh in his teeth. Not to mention you were pretty sure you hated him. But none of that seemed to matter at the moment. You trailed your hands up his forearms, blood coating them as they slid across his skin until you reached the back of his neck. You ran your nails across his nape and he pressed his forehead against yours while letting out a groan.

“Show me how you’re made for me. Prove to me that you're worthy of me. Make me yours”, you whisper against his lips while drawing shapes on his nape. “Please Sukuna.”

The noise that leaves his throat from you begging him is so low and guttural it sounds like it belongs to the hells. His arms lift you up to wrap around his waist as his mouth crashes into yours. His teeth nip and bite at your lips and tongue before sucking on them. You moan into the kiss as your mouth follows in suit and your hips roll into him. Your hands pull him closer to you but its not enough. There’s still too much in between you. Normally you would enjoy slowly undressing him and teasing each part of his body as its revealed but you were wayyy past going slow. The next minute you feel his skin bare of clothes and against yours. You push your breasts flush against his chest, blood coating them, and moan at the sensation it gives your nipples.

“My naughty girl, who gave you permission to undress your King”, he says while pulling your hair back to get a good look at you.

The force he pulled your head with was enough to rip anyone else’s off, but there yours was moaning out in pleasure from it. “I did. You were taking too long, Sukuna”, you said before gasping as you finally looked down. “You-you have two”, you asked in shock. Although you really shouldn’t be shocked since he has two of everything else. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the thought of him burying them inside you. Fucking your insides until they molded to his shape.

He laughs at your cute little question before slapping you right in the face once and then once on your left ass cheek which provokes a stuttered moan from your throat. “Such a fucking brat talking to me like that”, he says before he shoves one of his fingers into your mouth and grabs your right breast. His mouth appearing and biting on your nipple, making you moan again for him. He slaps your ass in the same spot and this time it is so hard that the sound echoes throughout the premises. The pain shooting through your body makes you scream as your cum drips onto him. Blood dribbles from where your skin broke and you bite his finger. Not completely off but enough that you’re lapping up a mix of his and Uruame’s blood. “Talking to me so casually—“ he slaps it again,”biting my fucking finger—“ another slap has blood absolutely gushing from the spot and tears swelling in your eyes. You decide to get even and bite his finger clean off letting him watch you swallow it. A piece of him inside you. You then suckled on the nub left behind while giving him a bloody smirk.

He groans at the sight as his finger regrows back in your mouth. Fucking hell he didn’t think he had ever seen something so hot. You literally just ate a piece of him because he made your ass bleed. He starts laughing before turning you around and slamming you down into Uruame’s blood. The side of your head and neck cracked from the force of the impact before healing immediately. The crack in the stone remained, though. Your ass hung in the air as his cocks rubbed against it.

“Crazy bitch you really just ate my fucking finger”, he says with awe in his voice. You try to push yourself up but the hand tangled in your hair keeps your face firmly planted down. He couldn’t have you running away, he was just about to finally taste you. “Keep your head down and I will touch you where you want me to, but if you move it I swear to god I will bite your clit off.”

“Please ‘kuna. I’ll be good just please touch me”, you whined out shamelessly. You could feel your slick dripping out of your cunt into the pool of blood. Your body was so needy for his touch it was driving your mind insane.

Again with your informalness he thought. He would correct you if your voice whining out his name didn’t drive him animalistic. He released your head and got down behind your ass. You were so fucking wet for him. He reached his finger out to gather some of your cum and your ass twitched immediately. So sensitive for him. “Stay still, brat”, he warned. Two of his hands grabbed your ass while the other two reached under you and tugged on your tits, fingers pinching and pulling on your nipples. Wispy little whimpers flew out of your mouth but you were good and stayed still for him.

He licked a stripe from your clit to your asshole that had your eyes rolling and a whine coming out. He gave you a few more long, slow licks before plunging his tongue into your pussy.

“Yes, fuck, Kuna, yes just like that”, you moaned out as he stretched you open with his tongue. It took all of your control to keep from rolling your hips into his face. “Mmm Kuna feels s’good. Makes me want to ride your face until you’re drowning in my juices.”

Fuck that would be so hot. He wanted to make you cum until you were a fountain for him. He let a groan rumble out inside which had your walls squeezing hard around his tongue. God you were taking his tongue so well, squeezing it and trying to pull it deeper inside you. He couldn’t wait to feel you do that around his cocks. He removed his tongue from your sopping pussy which made you whine before he started licking your ass. You started panting at the sensation, pussy clenching at the lack of attention which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He stuck a blood soaked finger into you, and at the same time, forced his tongue into your ass. Stars took over your vision as your toes curled up. He worked both of them in sync before summoning his mouth to assault your clit too. You started screaming out his name as your thighs began to shake from the overload of pleasure. He added another finger to your pussy and one to your ass and started spreading you, preparing you for his cocks. He knew you would be able to take all 10 girthy inches and still beg for more. That’s because you were made for him. Made to be able to endure whatever sadistic fantasies he had. His perfect girl. He started licking off the blood that was still on your ass and groaned from the feeling that washed over him while he fucked your holes with his fingers and second mouth. He couldn’t wait much longer.

He took his fingers out of you before crawling over you, pushing you down with his body. His free hands pulled your ass apart to help spread your holes for him as he positoned his cocks against them. You could feel that the size was too big but you didn’t care. You would adjust and take him. You wanted it so bad. His face was beside your ear, one of his hands moved the hair away from your neck as he peppered kisses along it. “It’s going to hurt pretty girl, but you can take it. I know you can. I’m not going to be gentle because I know you can,” he said in between kisses and then he was in. It felt like you were splitting into two as you screamed out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He was slamming into you at a brutal pace just like he promised as he rested his head against your turned cheek. Before long, you were arching your body into him and meeting his thrusts as you both let out absolutely feral noises from the sensations. You were so fucking full you felt like you were going to burst, you could feel him pushing against your cervix and ripping open your asshole but it felt amazing. You didn’t want it to ever stop. You wanted him to fill you up like this forever. It was so warm under him and the sounds your blood covered bodies made when they slapped together was beautiful. You could hear him panting, groaning, and growling above your ear as he used you. But it wasn’t enough, you wanted more.

“Kuna-ah-ahh wan it deeper. Wanna watch you go inside me. Want you to mark me while your tear up my insides pleaseee”, you said as your vision blurred from the blood seeping into your eye that was against the ground.

How could he say no to such a request? Without missing a beat he pulled out, flipped you over, grabbed under your thighs to bend you in half, and resumed his brutal pace. His cocks now reached even deeper spots inside you. His tip went through your cervix as you screamed and tears started falling from your eyes.

“Kun gon cum, please, wan cum on your cocks, sssukuunaaa”, you begged in broken moans as your body started spasming. Your holes clenching around him so tight he broke the stone under you with his fist to keep himself from cumming.

“Cum for me brat, cover my cocks with your slutty fucking cum”, he said as he put his hand around your throat and squeezed. You body was shaking so hard he had to hold your hips with two hands so he could keep fucking into you. His own orgasm creeping up right behind yours as your holes started milking him for all he was worth, as if begging him for his cum. He pushed your mouth open with his fingers, blood smearing across your face as he did, and spit inside it before slapping you. You clenched even harder as you started cumming around him again from the defiling act, your eyes rolling back from the overstimulation. He bit your neck as he finally poured his cum into you. Long ropes of white splashing against your walls and pooling inside of your holes. Your holes that were too tight around him for his cum to escape. You could feel as it began to accumulate inside of you. Making your insides stretch further to take it all without tearing. Pain radiated from your neck as he drank from you. Your blood restoring his stamina as his cocks got even harder inside of you. It made your mind go completely blank as incessant moans poured from your mouth.

He pulled his teeth from your skin and licked the area, tasting you and Uruame as he cleaned it. He took a few breaths before moving himself over your face. You were looking at him through blurry eyes completely glazed over with lust. He brushed your hair out of your sweaty, blood covered face as he showered you with kisses. His hips started moving in slow controlled strokes. Letting you both feel every single sensation in greater detail. You could feel exactly where he was inside you and how your insides closed in his absence only for him to open them right back up when he sank back inside you. You held onto his arms as he kissed you. When he pulled his head back you both looked down to watch how he slid in and out of you. His cocks were covered in your blood and both your cum. You wrapped your legs around him and moved your arms up to run through his hair. Lightly tugging on some spots, and running your nails over others. The sensation had him melting into you. He had never been touched like this, never let anyone. And he sure as hell had never fucked anyone like this. But with how heightened his senses were from drinking your blood, he didn’t think he could go any faster without immediately cumming. And he wanted this to last. He felt so connected to you like this. He could feel the energy in both of your bodies swirling together. Dancing around each other before intertwining into one. When they did, he started to feel everything you felt. Your pleasure seeped into him as his seeped into you. He never believed in heaven, but if it existed, this was it.

You leaned your head up as you pulled on him for extra stability and started kissing along his jaw. “I wanna be in your lap Sukuna.”

“Okay, pretty girl”, he said as he lifted you up on top of him. No rebuttal, no anger, just compliance. In that, moment, he just wanted to make you feel good.

Your chests were pressed together and your hands rested on his shoulders as you rolled your hips across his lengths. His hands cradled your back and face, his thumbs rubbing patterns on both. Foreheads pressed together as you both watched you ride him. Only stopping to kiss each other or mark each other’s necks. Marks you both held off on healing for the time being. You started teasing him by pulling him out to just the tips and twirling your hips around them.

“That’s no fair, I don’t remember teasing you like that”, he said with a very uncharacteristic pout.

“I guess I am just a bit meaner than you then, hmm?”

“Ohohohh is that so now?”

“Yes, it is”, you said before kissing him.

He kissed you back while rubbing his thumb along your jaw, “Brat.”

You two fucked the day away in that spot. The spot where you had watched him tear apart his subordinate right before. By the time you two were done, there wasn’t a single spot of skin not covered in their blood.

Notes: …don’t judge me for this chapter ikik shhh. Extras v v

- So when using positive energy or reversed energy, there are times where it doesn’t work because the two people are not compatible. Know this, it would be easy to assume there are some people who have energies that are very compatible. Sukuna is obviously a sorcerer like no other, but so is the reader. They are the only two on their level, which draws them closer. Their crazies match each other. Is it toxic? Again, yes this is Sukuna. But with their personalities, it would be wild for it not to be at least a little toxic.

- Sukuna had recently learned to truly feel his innate energy and not just his cursed energy which are very different. In this chapter when he drinks from the reader, it opens a connection between the two innate energies, one that he couldn’t feel before. It allowed them to both feel everything about each other and genuinely experience connection. This doesn’t happen anytime he ingests someone, it only happens because their energies are the same. Sukuna was originally talking out of his ass about the reader being made for him to make them feel special and delude them. He only partially believed they were that useful to him. But after connecting with them, he fully believes it. He will still be a bipolar asshole though because he doesn’t know any different. Yet.

- Sukuna was pissed at Uruame but would actually consider their punishment to be light. It only lasted for an hour and they’re perfectly fine now. He would punish anyone this violently for genuinely crossing him, especially the reader. It would actually be wore for them because he needs them to be good and listen to him. He needs them in general which means they need to not be undermining him. It would be embarrassing for him if they constantly did it so he would take his time upon the first incident. Making sure they remembered it and wouldn’t act out again. And the whole time he’d tell them how much he cared about them and was doing this so that they could be better.

Taglist: @missroro

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— HEARTBEATS AND FLATLINES

SUMMARY : dean was so focused on you he’d blocked everything that was going on in the background of his life as it were white noise. he didn’t realise how much that put you in danger until you went out of your date.

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Clayton (OMC) 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, kidnapping, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, nerdy/dorky Dean returns, reader isn’t perfect, vague chronic illness, affection, obliviousness, violence, gore?, drugging, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 6.8k

A/N : this will soon fill the square for stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. lmao, it’s like venom/eddie with anne when she got engaged. I listened to MCR's bullets album for the maximum vampire vibes xx

Dean was restless on the days leading up to your date with Clayton. 

He tried not to make it too obvious, his deep disappointment and displeasure with your choice. Well, to him it felt more like heartbreak, an emotion more painful than any of those words could convey. 

He didn’t ever want to avoid you. He didn’t want to push you away by saying something rude about Clayton or doing something that would end up hurting you. He wanted to be near you, always. So he planned ways to avoid the topic instead, but you were entirely indifferent about Clayton and your date with him. He had no idea if you really actually liked the guy, or if you were nervous, or if you thought of him often. 

Dean couldn’t pick up anything from you. Maybe your cheeks heated up a little and your heart raced if you spoke of him, sometimes. But it was almost instantly gone after a few moments, like you just needed to find a baseline. It was not the way a regular person would behave if they ever were attracted to someone in any way. 

He was still a little rattled. Because you hadn’t changed. You still became flustered if he was kind to you. You always spoke to him, spent most of your time with him. It was why he got whiplash from the news of your date. 

Wouldn’t you, now that you considered him a friend, tell him all about Clayton? What would be your reason not to? Why didn’t you gush about the man any chance you had? Why wouldn’t you bring Clayton to the bakery when you came by? Why wasn’t your social media flooded with a few or many posts about him? Why wasn’t it obvious or at least detectable that you liked Clayton?

“Can you believe it?” It was the old guy, Nico, talking to his son Anthony. “Your aunt’s house costs $320 000, I can tell you it’s not what it cost when she bought it.” 

Dean slowly tugged his consciousness out of his reeling head. He focused on the sweet chocolate batter he was whisking at angrily and relaxed his wrist to slowly stop. 

“Do you think he’d be into a single mom? Look at him, he’s so pretty and young.” That was Tamara Stewart. You didn’t like her. So, the answer was no. He was petty like that. 

He picked up the crinkly bag of chocolate chips and dumped a handful into the batter. He tried to distract himself from his devouring thoughts by eavesdropping in on the dozens of conversations his customers were having.

“But Jon sucks, we’re playing ranked and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” 

Dean gently mixed the chocolate chips with the batter, getting lost in their conversations until he’d flattened the top of the batter and scraped the surrounding area of chocolate until the bowl was clean at the top. 

“Nine murders already, Frank.”

Dean froze and looked up, watching brown eyes sweep over a bright phone screen. He could hear both heart rates rising in fear, their bodies tense as they shared the news. 

“What’s the police doing about it?” 

George continued to scroll through his phone, his brows pressed together in stress and said: “No idea, doesn’t say much.” 

Dean quickly took the glass mixing bowl to quickly pour the batter into the prepared muffin pan. His ears found their point of interest, the conversation between Frank and George. Still, Dean pretended to deeply concentrate on baking and walked to the back to shove the pan inside the oven and remove the croissants and sweet scones he’d made.

“I swear, this is fucking weird.” Frank rubbed his forehead anxiously. “They said it themselves on the first three murders, there wasn’t any blood at the scene. What the hell kind of animal does that? Sounds like a person to me. Probably dumped the body there, killed it somewhere else.” 

Oh, Frank. You don’t know the half of it. 

The following day, Dean was feeling unpleasantly wound up. 

He was hurt over your date with Clayton. 

And now, he was concerned for your safety as the day of your date came closer. You lived all alone in the woods. And there were vampires in town murdering people carelessly, as if they had no fear of getting caught. A beautiful and lovely woman was what you were to him, but to them, you were just a meal.

It didn’t just put you in danger. It put him in danger. Those vamps could easily move on, but a hunter could still follow. What hunter came by could find him, think the worst with the pile of incriminating evidence, and kill him. Or worse, Dean would have to kill the hunter out of self-preservation. 

He moved the murders to the top of his list of priorities because it still was all about you. Keeping you safe was all he could think of. It was like working a case again. Except it was easier because he was local, people knew him, trusted him, and liked him. What was harder was doing it alone, no Sam, no Cas. 

As always, Dean could count on flirting to get information out of police and detectives. A smile here and touch there proved that he still had it. Except this time, there wasn’t much he was interested in receiving because his entire body belonged to you. 

But at least he got a few photos of their files with his phone. It was easy enough to narrow down which monster was doing the killings. Vampires hardly ever changed their habits. But these vamps weren’t sloppy. They fed somewhere else and dumped the bodies randomly in the forest. They probably had different vamps from the nest dispose of the bodies so the locations were skewed and appeared random, but always deep in the forests. 

The victims were random. Three were dressed in running clothes, two wore work clothes, but the other four were dressed casually—killed on a day off or while they were out for fun. There was nothing they had in common, they probably bumped into the vamps, wrong-place-wrong-time type of deal. 

Their clothes were dirty, bloodied, tattered. They had bruises and cuts, but nothing that pointed to something that had human form. And to hide the vampire bite, the necks of the victims were completely torn by teeth. It was lazy work from the police, in Dean’s opinion, to blame mountain lions. Anyone with a brain would wonder how those people ended up in the forest to be attacked in the first place. 

Still, Dean had to find them and put an end to their nest. He wouldn’t stop you from going on your date, even though he’d previously planned on messing with your car so you wouldn’t get there… He hoped you’d be safer with… Clayton, and hoped that whenever he took you, you wouldn’t be left alone to end up as prey to the vampires.

All he had to do now was find the exact location of the nest and put an end to the vampires’ murder spree. 

SATURDAY — morning

You seemed a little more nervous than you were any other day when you entered his bakery. 

You asked him for some tea with honey, and he’d gladly obliged with a nice cup of chamomile tea that warmed your entire body in seconds. 

Dean, despite wanting nothing to do with what will happen on your date, wanted to comfort you. He sat down next to you, something he hardly did, and wrapped his cold hand around yours. You seemed a little surprised by his proximity, but you didn’t appear displeased. Instead, you turned your body towards him and smiled contently.

“I’m not exactly an expert in love, but shouldn’t you be… you know… a little more excited?” He asked, feeling elated that you placed your warm hand above his despite the way his touch made you shiver. You looked into his eyes curiously, tenderly brushing fingertips across his knuckles as you pondered his question with a fiery heat across your cheeks. 

“I sort of am,” you replied measuredly. He was glad he couldn’t physically cry because he would have been sobbing pathetically as a strange little ache settled in his chest. “I’m just trying to take it slow.” You tapped your shoe against his thoughtfully and he turned to touch his leg with yours, a harrowing need to be close to you overpowering any respect for your personal space. 

You instantly snapped out of your train of thought when he did, but your body completely decompressed as your eyes moved up to his face. He felt like you were seeing too much of him. 

“Slow?” He chuckled incredulously. His tone made you smile, but your brow raised, inquiring about his humour. “I think you might be takin’ it :0so slow you’re leaving your emotions behind a little. Most people would’ve been talking about their partner-to-be any chance they got.” The more he spoke, the hotter your face got. At least you finally looked away, appearing somewhat guilty. He slowly pulled his hand away from yours as your heat turned his want into need. “I guess I’m just wondering why you’re so nervous. You… like… the guy, you shouldn’t be this nervous,” he muttered.

He was glad you didn’t think much about the discontented tone of his voice, but you thought again for a few minutes after considering his words. “I’m… always watching people. I don’t need stuff to happen to me to learn something about life. For one, I’ve seen people falling hard and fast for someone... then it all falls apart, they're stupefied by the other person…” You breathed and ended your ramble. “Basically, I’m just trying to be smart and rational, so that I don’t end up in a bad situation.”

Dean blinked at you. 

Suddenly, everything that you were seemed to make sense. It dawned on him that you weren’t trying to be mysterious at all. You were just… calculating, and you applied that same logic to everything in your life. You always took long pauses to think before you spoke, you reacted slowly to his advances to contemplate him and then you made your move—depending on what you thought was appropriate, like a game. You were quiet because you were always observing others, learning from them, and then applying what you learned—to be accepted. You kept people at a distance out of fear and he knew more about that than anyone. 

“I don’t think there’s anything rational about love.” He knew that better than anyone, too. Why was he standing so close to you now? Knowing you could feel his unusually heatless body. Why did he stick around knowing he’d stolen your things and photographed items in your home? Why when you could easily find out that he was stalking you? That he’d broken into your home. That he longed for you and stayed by your side even though you didn’t and probably never would.

“That’s exactly why I’m trying to control it as much as I can. To have something seize me that way, to make me feel like I’m losing control of myself. I don’t think I can handle that kind of thing-”

“So that’s what it’s about? Staying in control?” He wanted to laugh. You and him were more alike than he thought. Not only did he have to restrain himself with his hunger for blood, but he had to wrest his desire to keep you all to himself. 

“Well, I think I’ve been through enough that it makes sense for me to be… controlling,” you argued indignantly. Your pout made him laugh, and his laugh made you smile. Then, you sobered. “I had no control over a lot of things in my childhood, even as I grew older. Even my illness dictated how I lived my life. There’s a lot of things. Abusive friends. My father. I was powerless most of my life. So yeah, I… I guess I’m just afraid to feel that way again. And love, romance, that’s even worse.”

Dean wondered with hope if you were trying to control yourself around him; if your date with Clayton was your way of controlling the way you really felt; if you felt so afraid about how strongly you might want or even need him, and forewished that it might be as much as he needed you. 

Dean reached out to grab your chin and made you look up at him again. You bit your lip and lifted your eyes from his shoulder to look at the greenness of his. He could already sense the blood rising to your face and your hand gently wrapped around his wrist, but you didn’t push him away. 

“When you find the right person, you won’t be afraid to lose yourself. Trust me.” Dean’s stomach somersaulted when your eyes dropped down to his lips and you licked your own. You pushed his hand away to wrap your arms around his neck, and he welcomed your first embrace. He could feel your warm breath by his ear, feel the heat of your body like the surface of the sun kissing his own when he circled his arms around your waist, and your heart thudded heavily, echoing against his empty chest.

SATURDAY — evening

The sun had set, swallowed by the horizon, pushed back by dark-blueness, leaving the moon behind in tall green trees. 

Damp dirt crunched beneath his once-retired boots. The scent of wet earth and rotten wood from the abandoned house the nest was vacating filled him with painful, nostalgic memories. He could smell human blood and salty sweat, he could hear quiet whimpers and panicked breathing. New victims. He focused on that instead.

He knew that facing the nest after the sun had set meant they were all going to be more awake. He could’ve missed work to do it during the day, but then it meant he wouldn’t have seen you. And he would not have been able to be so close to you, to fill his lungs with the delectable scent of everything that was you, to feel the sunniness of your body pressed against yours when you held him in your arms. 

He’d cherish that forever, if it was all you could give him. You wouldn’t ever know, but if you never chose him, he’d hide in the shadows of your life and do absolutely anything for you. Always.

Dean’s fingers twitched at the back door he was about to enter. Was he really just going to burst in there without getting a proper look inside? He cautiously made his way around the house to catch glimpses of the inside of the dark and ruined house. 

He counted the vampires downstairs, four women, two men, and the victims, two men. He couldn’t sense much from the second floor of the house, but he had to make do and act before they could kill the men. Dean could hear one of them, his weakened heartbeat, shallow breaths, not much energy left. The other must have been freshly caught… what a morbid way of putting it. 

He internally hyped himself up, swung his machete in his hand—like riding a bike. Hopefully. The sharpened edge of the machete was coated in a sticky layer of dead man’s blood, which intoxicated him slightly, but it had to be done. 

Now, he entered. 

He was greeted with hisses and bared fangs, and was thrown into decrepit walls and shoddy furniture. He was punched and clawed at, tackled and dragged across sodden and grimey floorboards. He was even bitten pointlessly by them. His skin healed and he stood back up and slashed his way through the modest, abandoned building. His freckled face, grey t-shirt, and old blue flannel spattered with blood. His jeans were covered in mud, old rain, and spilled vampire blood. 

His body thrummed and he felt alive. All those sensations against his skin were magnified and spectacular. He felt almost as alive as you made him feel. Saving people. Hunting things. It was like revisiting an old friend and going over fond memories. The family business, emphasis on the family. 

He’d tried so hard to get out. He did get out. But going back in was like relapsing, going back to a habit that he had always known was bad for him, deep down. 

Finished with the vampires downstairs, Dean hastily untied the men and ordered the more-lucid one to run and not stop until he was safe with the much weaker man. The man, Blue Shirt, had no idea what to think, didn’t argue and struggled to speed up as he carried Yellow Shirt out of the hell hole they had almost died in. 

Dean jogged upstairs and stopped at the woman who smirked at him. As if they knew each other, as if she had been expecting him. Uh-oh? Then two other vampires appeared behind her, bigger than the ones he’d killed downstairs, retracting their fangs with menace. 

“You don’t think we’d all just be waiting here… did you, Dean?” 

“What?” He voiced his bewildered thoughts. 

She took the opportunity to knock the machete out of his hand, as he assessed the two other vampires and attempted to absorb her words. She grabbed him by his neck to smile sweetly, only to smash his face into the window, and effortlessly threw him to—Yogi and Boo Boo. Dean smirked at them as they held him up, because the other guy was short, Boo Boo. That really eased the dull pain in his face. 

Now, he faced her again and she traced his jawline with her cold fingers. At that moment, as he sized her up, he decided she looked like Selene from Underworld. 

“The rest of the nest is out watching that pretty lady you’re obsessed with…” Dean’s face fell, enough to amuse Selene far more than she already was. “What’s her name…? Whatever, good… taste…” She smirked and leaned into Dean, enough for him to feel the dull air of her breath. 

“No,” he grunted, struggling against Yogi and Boo Boo as thoughts of you filled his mind. Thoughts of you going up against horrifying monsters you were not aware of and that you were not prepared to face. Why you? Why would they do that to you? 

“Yes, she’ll probably be as sweet as all that food you feed her.” Selene moved away to look out the shattered window, thoughtfully. “Does she smell good? God, I wouldn’t be able to stand as close to her as you love to be. I’d eat her right up, feel her body go limp as I swallow her warm blood… yummy.” 

Yogi and Boo Boo laughed cruelly, the grins on their faces that Dean peeked at showed their agreement with her words. 

“Shut up,” Dean growled. “Why are you going after her? What do you want with her?” It didn’t make sense for them to go after you. You were everything to him, but to them, you were nobody. Just a human. Unless it was about him. God, why did he have to piss so many monsters off?

Instead of responding to his question, she changed the subject and asked: “Alia saw you hunt coyotes and bobcats? What’s that like?”

Dean did not want to waste time talking about his diet if your life was in danger. It was a rash move to lunge at her, but his mouth connected with her neck and his fangs retracted on instinct, piercing hard flesh and disgusting blood that he sucked until she fell. 

He struggled against Yogi and Boo Boo’s grip, and was eventually torn off of her by them. Not without taking a chunk of her neck, which he spit out along with the blood he’d sucked from her already-dead body. He fought harder this time, for you and managed to get Yogi tangled up in Boo Boo when he shoved them into each other to swipe his machete from the floor as Selene recovered. 

He was grabbed roughly by Yogi or Boo Boo when they’d scrambled back up, but he kept his grip on the machete as he hit the wall one of them had pushed him into. He groaned as he turned, swung the machete, and Yogi’s head thumped loudly on the ground, a spray of his blood covered Dean, Boo Boo, and the wall. 

Selene kicked the back of his knee so he fell to the floor with a loud crack, and he was kneed in the face by fucking Boo Boo, then tackled into him by Selene. God, will it end?

Dean scrambled to get back up and removed her from his body by slamming himself with her on her back into the wall. Her breath rushed out as her body hit the wall painfully loud. Dean had barely managed to stand up straight when Boo Boo began to charge at him. Dean used Boo Boo’s brute strength to knock him into Selene before she could get up properly. 

Dean picked up his weapon again and drove the sharp edge across the back of Boo Boo’s head so he could see his brain slice through the middle with the partially diagonal slice from his machete. Dean kicked part of Boo Boo’s head away as Selene shoved his body off her. She stayed down and sighed defeatedly while glaring up at Dean. 

"It has come to this, the hunted, becoming the hunters to the hunted."(1) Dean quoted smugly, swinging the machete in his hand smoothly. 

“What?” She spat, wiping Boo Boo’s blood from her face. 

“Seriously? All this time on your hands and you don’t pick up a fucking vampire movie?” Dean rolled his eyes at her unwavering glare and sighed, squeezing his fist around the handle of the machete. “Can’t say this was nice, but, uh—it kinda was, actually. Huh.”  

Dean wiped his face with his flannel as he tore through the road on his way to you. Thank fuck you’d let him know where you’d have your date, even though his intentions weren’t exactly pure. If he hadn’t had to go after the nest, he probably would have sat nearby to hear everything you had to say. Maybe he’d even planned to interrupt your date and stir up some jealousy and.. but perhaps it was good the universe prevented that from happening. 

The only problem was that you were in danger. He had no idea what he would say to you once he stood before you at that restaurant-brewery where they made your favourite burgers. What could he say without sounding batshit crazy? Without frightening you to the point of making you want to be far away from him—forever?

That didn’t matter. If you didn’t listen, he'd have to force you, for once, into listening to him so you wouldn’t be in danger. So you wouldn’t die. You were human. You were all he had and even though your life was fleeting, he wanted to make sure you got to live a fulfilling life. With or without him. That’s all that mattered. He’d risk it all for you, in this life or death moment.

Finally, he realised he was close to the bar and parked nearby, in the darkened back alley where there was a woman smoking at the first door, a cat with its head buried in a bucket of popcorn at the garbage, and a homeless man covered in ragged blankets near the end of the alley. 

Dean didn’t bother with looking around for much longer. The vampires wouldn’t be going in after him, unless they were stupid. He just needed to go in and get you out, by his side where you were safer. With someone who could protect you against the horrors of the night. And not Clayton, the kind, safe, and boring mechanic that everyone knew and trusted because he wouldn’t charge extra, or lie, or… who was Dean kidding? Clayton was perfect for you. 

Dean broke the door’s handle and pushed his way through people and the cooks, and the man cleaning. He was glared at, but ignored for the most part as he made his way to the front. As per usual, Dean could find you without looking. He could sense you, the way your heart would beat, the brush of your hands across your skin, and the delicious taste of your body. You stood out like the sun in the sky. 

He found you in a beautiful deep red blouse that made you the centre of the entire bar. Without even intending on it. You were so delicate and beautiful, he had to save you. He couldn’t imagine the large cavity the lack of your existence would create, he always wanted to breathe your air and feel your heat and hear your sweet voice. Even if you didn’t belong to him. 

But soon, it was all smothered by Clayton. Dean could smell the remnants of engine fuel and cologne. Clayton with his blond hair and blue eyes and… ugh. It could be Dean beside you. 

It was as if you could feel him. You shivered and your eyes drifted away from Clayton as he spoke enthusiastically about his nephew. Your soft eyes met Dean’s and you looked surprised, then happy, and finally concerned in an instant. Had Dean not experienced time the way he did, he would not have noticed the rapid change in your expression. 

You sat up straight and Clayton finally shut up to look where you were looking. Dean forced his legs to keep moving, fighting against the tar that was created by his endless amazement at your perfect existence. He’d fight gravity to get closer to you, defying every law to protect you, like the Moon and the Earth. He was meant to be next to you. 

“Dean? Wha-what are you… doing here? Wh-what happened? You’re covered in… blood…” You stepped around the table as you questioned him, with a clean napkin clenched in your fretful fingers to find the source of the blood. You wiped away uselessly, before realising it wasn’t his. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t explain right now, but you’re in danger,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your arm. He pulled you closer and you allowed him to as he scanned the room for any one suspicious or… undead. There was no one. 

“What are you talking about?” You touched his bicep, his eyes moved back to yours, and his face softened. Your touch felt like warm life being poured back into the empty vessel that was his body. 

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,” he whispered. The unease and fear that shone through your eyes made his stomach clench.

“How? Dean, talk to me,” you attempted to regain his attention by tugging on the hem of his shirt—where he was clean of blood. Instead of replying to you, Dean pulled you closer and began dragging you to where he had entered.

“I just need to get you somewhere safe,” he explained, dragging your willing body into the back of the brewery and out into the alley. 

He heard you call his name multiple times, your hard-to-answer questions, and the apprehension in your tone. He slowed down only because he didn’t want to hurt your arm or cause you to trip and fall. Soon you fell into step with him and stopped bombarding him with questions as you looked around tensely. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” Clayton called after you and Dean, he had your jacket and purse. Dean noticed and you stopped moving, and then you stepped away from Dean. He knew you were considering returning to Clayton as he walked closer, but you stopped a foot away from Dean.

Clayton’s blue eyes, like a clear sky free of pollution, were filled with trepidation. He eyed Dean suspiciously and looked over to you. You were completely relaxed despite the terrifying, bloody state Dean was in and you were standing awfully close, trusting him despite the disorientation. 

“What’s going on here?” Clayton asked, but still returned your items to you. You couldn’t answer because you didn’t know how to. All Dean knew was that you hadn’t shoved him off you because of the urgency in his words, the stress knotting up his muscles, and the pleas in his Spring eyes. Why? Why would you just follow him anywhere without hesitation?

“Clayton, stay inside, this… is between me and her,” Dean warned, taking your hand rather than your arm. He could see the impala about a metre away. You didn’t smile when you turned to Clayton, you were still perplexed by Dean’s pressing behaviour, his determination in getting you out, and his insistence left no room for debate. 

Clayton appeared baffled and disappointed. He didn’t say anything, but Dean knew the judgement in his eyes as they stared at each other, the audacity is what his blue eyes were telling him. 

You squeezed Dean’s hand unintentionally. You didn’t know how to explain yourself to Clayton, but Dean saw the apology in the melted sugar of your eyes, and the deep frown of your oil-tinted lips spoke volumes. Your face told too much. Dean loved you. 

“It’s fine! I’ll… I’m sorry, I’ll call you later,” you promised, moving forward to squeeze Clayton’s arm which was covered by a white long sleeve. 

Watching it, while holding your hand, felt like he’d been thrown into a wall all over again. Breath knocked out, fury and jealousy boiled over him like lava. Dean tugged you away, but you didn’t complain. And you obviously didn’t notice what Dean had, Clayton’s gentleman-ly hand almost lifting to caress your cheek or move away that perfect strand of hair that curled perfectly around your face. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, moving his own long and blond hair away from his face as a biting breeze rolled over him. He ignored Dean completely. 

Part of Dean’s brain thought back to Sam, reminded of that kindness and the goodness in his brother shining through Clayton’s face. It didn't make Dean want to whine and throw you over his shoulder any less. He’d do it to get you out, but you would not approve of that. That’s the only reason he didn’t do it.

Maybe you nodded to Clayton, he wasn’t sure because he was examining a group walking towards you. His urgency returned when the five people approached the three of you and Dean sensed the lack of heat and sound from their bodies. Dean spoke lowly to you: “please, we gotta go now, sweetheart.” 

“Okay, Dean,” you conceded, but your tone sounded an awful lot like you believed he was having a mental breakdown, and you were just playing along until you got him some proper help. 

Dean stepped backwards with your hand in his and muttered a curse under his breath. He wished Clayton had just left you alone, but Dean knew it was too late to get you away.

Clayton glanced back at the group coming closer and started to say: “I’ll be-”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester and his prize pet. You weren’t going to leave without introducing us, were you?” The only woman of the group sneered. Was this Alia? Dean forced you behind him. He felt your hands gripping the back of his shirt and your face’s heat beside his bicep when you attempted to peek over his body. 

Clayton saw the way Dean gazed alarmingly at the woman and her group, and stumbled away to stand beside Dean. Dean could hear the rise in his heartbeat and feel the anxious heat that radiated from him. Those vampires could definitely smell the fear on him. 

“Pet?” You murmured to yourself with a pout.

“What do you want?” Dean’s go-to was to find humour in any situation like this one, but he couldn’t focus on distracting the group of vampires since your heartbeat began to rise and your hand clenched his shirt tighter. 

“Straight to the point then, yeah?” She asked, chuckling and eyeing you behind him, then looked at Clayton with indifference. “You killed a lot of people, Dean—” He felt your grip loosen up on his shirt and your breath puffed against his arm. “—You didn’t think we’d just forget about all of it and let you get away with it, did you?” 

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Dean asserted. He scoffed, his lip twitched into a smirk on instinct and she glared at him. “I don’t even know you.”

“Of course not,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “Remember Boris? We were part of his nest. Robert recruited us. You killed him, too, remember?” Dean held her gaze. Why would he feel guilty about killing vampires? “Because of you, we almost couldn’t survive. After you left, more hunters came. Those of us who made it out, those of us who survived you, they were hunted and killed. And then we had to learn to survive on our own.” She stepped closer and Dean backed up into you, your warm hands pressed into his back. “It was hard… I created my own family. And here we are. Here you are.”

She looked at you, peeked over his body where you were hiding. Alia—Dean was pretty sure she who Selene was talking about—seemed to consider her next move before speaking. “You killed them, didn’t you? Did you really think you could just move on with your life like nothing ever happened? And come here to continue killing?” Dean narrowed his eyes at her and her deep brown eyes glared at him, a smirk grew on her red lips. 

Dean needed to get back to the impala, to get the dead man’s blood, to pick up a weapon he could use to fight them off. You’d also be safe inside the Impala. He’d even tell you to go far away, to keep yourself alive until he could find you again. 

Clayton moved beside Dean, looking up into his blood smeared face, slightly shaken. “Is it true? Are you the one killing these people?”

“What?” Dean snapped out of his head, looking at Clayton. You whispered Dean’s name, as a question. “The police said they were animal attacks.” Dean didn’t care about what Clayton thought, but what you thought about him definitely mattered. He also knew it didn’t look very good for him to be covered in blood.

“Okay, then who’s blood are you covered in?” Your voice shook as you asked. Dean sneaked a glance at Alia and her friends. The cruel sneer on her face made it clear to him that she’d intended on pinning the deaths on him—she wanted you to think that. 

He couldn’t explain himself to you. Vampires. Monsters. Why would you believe any of that? You’d just think he’s batshit crazy. You’d be afraid of him. 

“You need to get in my car and stay inside,” he ordered, turning you with his hands firmly on your shoulder. Your mouth opened, ready to argue, and your wide eyes searched his face with hope and fear. Two of the most painful things he’d ever seen piercing the dead heart he thought could feel nothing. 

“Don’t touch her,” Clayton warned, pressing his hand into Dean’s shoulder. Dean growled and shoved him away. 

“Dean! Stop!” You shouted, watching helplessly as Clayton stumbled to the ground. Alia laughed carelessly. “Dean, what the hell is going on?” You asked, ignoring everything that was going on around you to gaze into Dean’s eyes. Your firm tone shook Dean, you usually spoke to him so gently and bashfully. 

“Tell her, Dean,” Alia was suddenly closer, “tell her what you are.” 

“No,” Dean barked at Alia and pulled out the knife he had in his jeans dipped in dead man’s blood and plunged it into her chest while she was busy gloating. You gasped and covered your mouth, stumbling away from Dean and the group of men that suddenly began advancing with menacing snarls.

Alia pulled the knife out of her chest with a scoff and a glare in Dean’s direction. “Dead man’s blood,” she spat.

“Leave her out of this, she doesn’t know anything,” Dean pleaded uselessly. Still, he placed himself in front of you, hoping to get closer to the impala now that his only weapon was in Alia’s hands. 

“You have nothing left, Dean. You’re all alone. Killing her is the only way I can really deal damage to you.” She lunged forward and slashed the knife across his stomach before he could dodge it properly. Maybe he was a little rusty. 

“Dean!” You cried, instantly moving to his side to touch the sliced skin of his abdomen, but it was healing instantly. He turned to you as he hissed and you backed away from him, thrown by the way he snarled at Alia with his fangs bared. 

Alia turned weak and fell to her knees. The five men around her hesitated, looking from Alia to Dean. But Dean didn't have the luxury to demur, so he turned around and grabbed you to push you towards the Impala. 

He didn’t care anymore. You’d seen Alia survive a stab to the heart. You saw his wound heal. You saw his… teeth. His monstrous face. And you were too shocked to move. You just blinked and stared at Dean as he unlocked the Impala to inhumanly retrieve his machete from the passenger seat. 

“Leave him, Ray, it’s her he cares about,” Alia rasped weakly. Dean turned to see the youngest of the group ready to lunge as Clayton stood, trying to wipe blood away from his palms. 

Dean turned back to you and gave you a small shake. You blinked at him and tensed when you focused on him. “Get. In.” He demanded, placing the keys in your palm. 

It actually turned out better than he thought. 

Sure, his clothes were torn up from bites and the knife they were attempting to use between the five of them, but Dean knew he could take the five of them. He could’ve done it as a human. He could definitely do it as a vampire. 

He was covered in more blood than before. His hair was sticky with it and so was his skin, spattered and smeared all over his face. 

Disposing of five bodies was harder to do than he was used to. Usually, he’d have killed them out in those creepy lairs miles away from people where he could burn them to ash. He had Sam to help. This time, he’d have to leave them in garbage bags, in the large roll off containers from the restaurant. People turned the other way when they saw them fighting, probably assuming it was a regular old, drunken fist fight. 

He’d go back for the bodies once he got you and Clayton out of there. At some point, one of the vampires knocked him out cold. So Clayton was asleep in the backseat and you were still shaking in the passenger seat, staring dead ahead. 

This was so not how he pictured things going with you. Now, you were traumatised. You were probably scared of him, even if he’d saved you. He couldn’t blame you. He was a vampire and you’d just witnessed him easily slaughter five people. Only someone with experience in killing could manage winning a fight when they were outnumbered. 

After dropping Clayton unceremoniously into his couch, Dean ran back to the Impala and drove you to his place. He was surprised you’d allowed him to carry you all the way into his living room. And that you didn’t complain about him taking you to his home instead of yours. 

He hung your jacket and purse on the hooks beside the door and worriedly sat on his knees in front of you. He whispered your name and you lifted your eyes to his. You bit your lip. “Are you afraid of me?” 

You shook your head, and murmured, “I’m just… confused and… I don’t know…” 

“I’m here… do you wanna get cleaned up?” Dean took your hands cautiously, brushing his thumbs over your soft skin, over your knuckles. You shook your head, ‘no’. “Want to sleep?” You shook your head again, more vehemently. He smiled softly, a touch of sadness pooling in his stomach. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you or do for you?” 

“Dean,” your voice was a little hoarse. He hummed softly. “What the hell… just happened? I mean… how… wh- I can’t believe that…” You trailed off, falling back into the couch exhaustedly, and stared up at the ceiling as you attempted to wrap your head around what occurred. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can calm down, and then we can talk.” Dean released your hands as he moved away from you. Your soft voice calling his name stopped him before he could turn away from you. 

“Will you tell me the truth?”

“Always.”

(1) Underworld: Endless War

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[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 3

This was kind of a weird ep that gave me a bit of tonal whiplash, especially around Tyme and Great's little date.

Let's talk timelines. We know there are two main ones: 1) Original where Great is presumably having a cardiac event and where he made all the original choices the power is now letting him change, and 2) Redo where things are different based on his second chance decisions. It appears that everything we are seeing happen is part of the redo timeline, which we know because all the events are connected and influencing each other.

I'm also feeling good about my theory that at 11:04 he will get sent back to the original timeline and our redo comes to an end. We advanced to 11:02 this episode.

This episode's 4 minute jump back indicated that the real trigger is Great not advancing with Tyme rather than tied to him making shitty and harmful decisions, since he got sent back just for turning down a date invitation. Ngl that's kinda disappointing to me, I was more into this being about his character development.

If the purpose of the power is to steer Great to Tyme, and we know that he originally did a hit and run and didn't go to the hospital, that implies he met Tyme differently, and possibly later, in the original timeline. The power seems focused on changing the course of his relationship with Tyme, and the images he's been seeing of himself and Tyme together and Tyme's different messages on the Thai Tea cup may have been his consciousness briefly slipping between one timeline and another. After this ep, where we saw that Tyme was asking forgiveness, I wonder if he didn't fess up about investigating Great's family in the original timeline and the power ensured he would in the redo. Now that he's unmasked himself, is he going to tell Great that he's after his family and why?

The cold opens--Tyme injured, Tonkla murdering someone in the same manner his brother was killed, and now a second body turning up--may be things already happening in the original timeline (which is the future from our current vantage point) or they could be new future things happening as a result of these changes.

I don't think Dome is Tonkla's brother. He is alive and at the hospital in the redo timeline where Tonkla is grieving, which we know because Tyme specifically says that he is checking on him on Great's behalf. That would not make sense if Dome was actually residing in the original timeline, where Great never saved him or met Tyme at the hospital this early.

I need to know more about Nan, her connection to Tyme, and why they are being so reckless in their pursuit of this gambling operation. The way she infiltrated that compound alone with an armed man in an isolated place was wild.

We saw Great give Tyme the white doll at the end of their date, but then when he was brooding later at his apartment, both dolls were sitting on his couch. Continuity error, another consciousness slip moment, or a clue of something else going on?

Tonkla sure started fucking that cop quickly, and in the home Korn pays for. I'm worried about that kid. And the graphic nature of that scene had me clutching my pearls lmao (shoutout to the PrEP mention but boy what is your preoccupation with being fucked raw??). At least the cop seems like a better sex partner than Korn. Get your kicks in while you can, sugar baby.

Besties I really have no idea what's going on but I'm trying my best!

[satans-helper]

Back From the Dead

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~6700

Warnings: lots of angst & tears (Sam really is my token boy for that lmao sorry to my Sam girls <3); some sexual content (PIV--18+)

Another post-concert Sam fic. Hope you enjoy <3

---

Countless photos and videos of the boy who broke your heart, the boy who you loved so much it made you sick, continued to assault you day after day, month after month. You couldn’t help but become transfixed despite how it made your chest ache so deeply–Sam in shimmering cream, backlit by pillars of orange flame. Sam in glittering crimson, dripping jewels. Each photo and video captured that natural charm, that honed magnetism, all of that slick seduction that had won you over so long ago, and you were left feeling whiplashed with each scroll.

When the end came, your friends all told you that you were better off without him. They tried to raise you back up, tried to paint you as the victor despite you feeling like you’d lost the most precious thing in your life. You’d tried to rally along with their support but you never really felt it, not for one second. And as the months dragged on, your quiet heartache and gray despondency became old. Your friends didn’t want to hear about it anymore, not for one more second. You couldn’t blame them. You were sick of your own thoughts that tormented you–no matter what you did with your days, Sam was at the forefront of your mind, always. 

Not even sleep was much of an escape. You dreamed about him frequently, in situations that were nonsensical sometimes, but sometimes in situations where he’d come back to you. Sometimes the dreams erased the breakup entirely and there you two were, together like nothing had ever happened. Then you’d wake up covered in sweat and chilled with grief, your heart once again like a dead-weight in your rib cage.

Summer was here, but instead of feeling excited for beach days, boat rides, barbeques and all the weekend trips that had been tacked onto your calendar, you just felt the same old familiar grief and desperation. You were so exhausted from the pain that came from that horrible breakup that had come out of nowhere, a pain that should have left you long ago. 

Of course, despite the clear blue skies and beaming sunshine as you drove to meet your friends–yet another gathering that wouldn’t distract you–your thoughts found Sam and that final day with him. You never thought you’d beg any man for anything but when he’d dropped the bomb, you’d begged him not to, to take it all back, to just stay, to work it out. Because you loved him too much and truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. And you’d said all of that–you’d laid your heart out on the line, vomited your love, adoration and commitment up, but it hadn’t mattered. Sam said it was over, so it was. 

What made it so much worse was that you couldn’t even talk to him. You’d given up quickly–he’d made it clear that friendship was not part of the breakup package. For a little while, you’d held onto hope that he would reach out and at least mend that. But he never did, and it was another hard thing to accept. But what was harder was how everyone else in the world got to see him and experience him every night and it didn’t take long before you found yourself scrolling through apps just to see his digital beauty in the palm of your hands since you couldn’t have the real thing anymore.

The evening at the beach with your friends moved slowly. You tried, as always, to smile, to laugh, to match everyone else’s energy. But the cold drink in your hand only reminded you of how much you missed Sam’s warm hand holding yours; the blazing sunset, brilliant and beautiful reflected in the lake, only made you think of the flames that reflected in Sam’s dark eyes each night. The sand beneath your bare legs and feet only made you want the sensation of his silky skin against your own, and when you brought a cigarette to your lips, you knew you could still feel the long-lost ghost of one of his kisses. You’d never feel that again, you reminded yourself for the millionth time, and it almost made you cry right there.

But you managed to save your tears for the drive back home. They swelled into big droplets that rolled down your cheeks in the dark and you wiped them away continually, rubbing at your eyes too so the road would stop being a blur. Dejected and lonely, you dragged yourself back inside your home that always felt so empty without Sam’s scattered messes, even without his smell. 

The only one that you still managed to keep in touch with, though infrequently, was Josh. Bless his heart, and bless it even more because when you kicked off your shoes, dropped your back and checked your phone again while standing idle in the hallway, you had a text from him waiting for you.

Hey baby doll, what’s shaking? Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked. I was thinking about you tonight!

For the first time all night, a real smile curved along your lips. You started to type as you meandered over to the couch, sinking down just as you hit send.

Josh! I miss you <3 Did you guys have a show tonight?

Ironically, it was only when you got to talk to Josh that you ever felt relief. He was not only your one remaining link to Sam, but he was also just so pure of heart and kind–such a gem that you couldn’t not feel comforted whenever you two reconnected. Josh was your last thread to a whole world that you missed dearly and he was a true friend even if you wished you could talk to him more. 

Not even a full minute passed before your phone began to ring with Josh’s name and contact photo illuminating the screen. You took the call quickly and eagerly, settling back into the couch, your whole body feeling so much more alive than it had in ages.

“You know I’m not big on texting,” was the first thing he said when you picked up, a smile evident in his tone. 

“I’d much rather hear your voice,” you told him, smiling too. “I was thinking about you tonight too. Well–all of you.” You sighed, though Josh being on the other line kept the smile on your face. “As always.”

Josh said he missed you too. He launched into a whole recap of how much he and the boys had been writing and jamming, working on new songs, in addition to the touring that you were well aware of thanks to your incessant internet upkeep. You could visualize so much of it–you had garnered a fairly intimate knowledge of the boys’ creative process through dating Sam, plus you had seen them play numerous shows in the flesh. One thing you’d always loved about Sam was how he always found what you did and what you loved just as fascinating as you found his life.

Your life felt even less fascinating since Sam left it, but as you told Josh all of your most recent updates, he followed along with so much intrigue that you began to feel as though maybe things weren’t as boring as you once thought. Despite the constant heartbreak, you’d been pushing forward, carrying on doing things you love in addition to the regular grind. Even though you’d felt so broken, Josh affirming everything you’d done and were going to do made you feel whole again, if only temporarily. 

But then, just when you thought you were in the clear of even bringing him up, you blurted, “I still miss him so much, Josh.”

Josh let out a soft sigh on the other end. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve never been able to understand why he didn’t think it’d work. To me–to the rest of us–it always looked like it was working.”

“I thought so too,” you said, lying back flat along the length of your couch. You were vividly remembering some of Sam’s final words to you: “I’m not unhappy. I know you’re not unhappy. But eventually, we will be.” It had made you more angry than hurt the moment he’d said it–what a cop out. It had been way, way too late in the relationship for him to suddenly become noncommittal or to pull out a random excuse of fear. A preemptive breakup with no reasonable cause in sight, as far as you could tell. Fame wasn’t enough of a reason for you. It never was, it never would be. Eventually, you began to realize that Sam maybe–probably, if you were being honest with yourself–just never loved you all that much.

But as you conversed with Josh, his next statement gave you a light of hope that you wanted to dash away before you ran with it in futility: “Honestly, Y/N…I think Sam misses you too.”

You shot up into a sitting position, feet flat on the floor. “Why do you say that?”

There was such a long pause that you thought Josh had hung up. Then, slowly and softly, he said, “Well, for one, he hasn’t really been with anyone else since. Not that I know of anyway, and it’s not like there’s an abundance of privacy while we’re touring, anyway.”

“Okay…” you said, also slowly, the wheels of your brain already turning.

“He’s been bringing you up lately. Just like, in normal conversation…it’s like he openly reminisces about you. He didn’t do that before.”

You frowned. “Oh.”

“I also saw him looking at pictures of you, and of you and him together, recently. I don’t think he deleted any of them.” 

Your frown twisted into a confused purse of your lips, your brow tightening along with it–the statement, though encouraging, was so stark that it made you flinch. 

“I don’t–” You began, then shook your head. “Why won’t he just talk to me?”

“I wish I had an answer for you, love. But I do know, as you do too, that Sam is incredibly, ridiculously stubborn.” Josh clicked his tongue. “I think that his feelings for you are not totally gone. Personally, I never thought they were.”

-

Instagram alerted you to yet another end of the band’s tour. Well, a break–they’d all be off again soon and you were once again left to eventually play catch up with Josh, whenever that would be. You sighed as you paused on a photo of Sam. You gave yourself permission to look for another second, then just one more, before you locked your phone. It was time to move on, not only with your day but with everything. Sam wasn’t coming back to you. 

But then, when Sunday came around and when you were simply trying to focus on some back-to-basics self-care, Josh called.

“Hey, listen, mama,” he began, sounding a little on edge, which instantly put you on edge in turn. “I was sworn to secrecy but I just can’t keep it in. You deserve a heads up so you can figure out what exactly you want to do.”

“Josh,” you said, pausing your words as you began to peel away the Korean face mask from your cheeks. “What the heck are you talking about?”

“Sam’s coming to see you. Today. He flew in last night.”

A terrible, overwhelming wave of emotions swept over you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands–the used up face mask was stuck to one of them, your fingers clinging to it, with the bathroom trash can feeling so far away. The entire room surrounding you suddenly felt too small though, like the walls were closing in on you, and your heart began to beat frantically as the blood rushed into your ears.

When actual words entered your personal stratosphere again, you were tempted to ask if it was a joke. But Josh wouldn’t joke about this. Never. So you asked, “He was serious? How do you know?”

“Because he told me. He told all of us. He got on a plane, Y/N. He wants it to be a surprise and I just–” Josh let out an exhausted-sounding sigh. “I just don’t know what’s going through his head. I mean, do you want this?”

For the first time, you weren’t sure. 

But it didn’t matter–Sam showed up, just like Josh said he was planning to, just a few hours later. 

Nauseating panic made it hard to move right after the doorbell rang. You remained standing, totally frozen, right outside the door until it rang again and then, without having a coherent thought to drive your actions, you opened it.

No picture or video could ever compare to the real thing–you already knew that, but finally seeing Sam again in the flesh after so long was so uncanny and surreal that you wobbled back on your heels, so physically and mentally unstable. Josh may have warned you about Sam’s incoming presence, but there was nothing that could have warned you of the feelings his presence evoked–anxiety and confusion were at the forefront, so much anxiety that your vision blurred for a moment as you met Sam’s gaze, but also softer things. Adoration was there–that same adoration you’d felt throughout all of your time with Sam. Once upon a time, you’d looked at him like he was the sun, stars and moon combined. You just adored him that much.

“Hey,” Sam said, the first one to speak after what seemed like an eon of silence to you. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, long legs flexing slightly but visibly in just a pair of shorts. He inhaled deeply and his chest and shoulders rose and fell beneath the cream button-down shirt that you didn’t recognize. It looked like it could have been a thrift find, but you bet it wasn’t. 

“Hi,” you finally said, your own voice sounding strange to your ears. You left it at that, though there were so many other things another person might say–what are you doing here? Being the most reasonable one, and a question you were wholly justified in asking. But you didn’t.

“It’s been a long time,” Sam replied, and instead of the impossibly self-assured rock god you saw online every day, he looked sheepish. Trepidation wafted from his energy like a perfume, like he himself wasn’t even sure what he was doing on your doorstep.

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to center yourself, and got a whiff of what Sam actually smelled like–amber and patchouli. A little bit of smoke. “Yeah,” you agreed. “It really has.”

Despite all the emotions that were gearing up, it took absolutely no convincing for you to let Sam inside. It was like muscle memory to open the door for him and to step aside, to follow behind and watch the subtle movements of his traps, shoulders and thighs as he made his way into your home. But now, he moved more slowly and his head turned from side to side, looking around as if to see what had changed. Not much had, you realized, apart from his own missing pieces. 

You needed a drink; Sam probably did too. So you both sat there on the couch, the ceiling fan above circling, sending drift after drift of his scent to you, and slowly sipped from beers you only ever started buying because of him. Awkward, tormenting silence ensued for far too long before you finally asked the necessary question of, “Why are you here?”

Sam looked at you, then looked down at the can in his hand. He brought it to his lips, tilted his head back and chugged the rest. After he wiped his mouth with the hem of his sleeve, he answered with, “I miss you, Y/N. I made a mistake.”

Your jaw dropped–then, quickly you realized you didn’t want to be so vulnerable again. Sam didn’t deserve to see you surprised. He didn’t deserve to see any emotion at all. You looked away, to the blank space of the wall above your TV–once upon a time, there were pictures of the two of you, and of you and all the boys, hung up there. 

“Oh,” you said, taking another drink. The beer tasted extra bitter on your tongue, and you felt your own bitterness, all the hard feelings that had been locked away inside your heart for so long, begin to seep out. “You seemed so sure of your decision before. I don’t see why anything would have changed.”

“At the time, I didn’t think we’d make it. We barely made it through that first tour together. Don’t you remember?” Sam asked, stuck in your peripheral vision.

You thought back to that time a couple years ago. Sure, it’d been hard–you couldn’t be with Sam as much as you’d wanted, but you were never the clingy girlfriend. You never made him feel guilty about any of it. Yet you’d come to learn that he felt guilty anyway, which led to resentment, all of which could have been avoided if Sam just learned to communicate better. But you never made him feel guilty for that either.

“You barely made it through,” you corrected, turning to face him again. His beauty struck you again like a slap in the face, making you falter silently–just a few weeks ago, you would have done anything to kiss those soft, plush lips. Has anything really changed for you?

“I know,” Sam said, one of the few times he’d ever admitted any kind of fault. “It was stupid. I should have trusted what we had.”

You looked away again, blinking as you felt a surge of rage and deep pain in your chest that was threatening to make you cry. How many times could you cry over one person? You were so drained. Then you felt Sam’s hand on your knee but refused to look down at the touch, though the sensation sent a shiver up your spine and a whirlpool of desire in your belly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, his voice soft, but too sad. You didn’t think he deserved to feel sad. 

You shoved his hand away and shrank back against the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest. “What did you think would happen here?” you demanded, the threat of tears in your eyes traded for blazing anger that you hoped was cutting through Sam’s soul. “You don’t talk to me for all this time–you didn’t even want to be friends, Sam!” Your voice was rising like the tidal wave all your heartache felt like. “You toss me aside like trash then just decide to come back when, what? When you’re desperate? Because you finally feel real guilt, not just your bullshit self-pity?”

Sam’s mouth gaped in shock, just staring at you. You stared back until he stood up, shaking his head. “You’re right,” he said. “This was wrong. Another mistake.” 

But as he began to head out, steps trailing a line right for the front door, you knew you couldn’t bear to see him walk out again. 

You shot up to your feet and grabbed his arm–you pulled him back with more force than intended, making him stumble back against you with a surprised grunt. He actually looked scared when you physically turned him around but the anger you felt was drifting away–now you just felt charmed. Despite the changes there, you saw the same boy you fell in love with years ago.

“You ruined everything, you stupid idiot,” you said quietly, no heat in your words. Surprisingly, Sam smiled. He brought his hands to your shoulders and gently rubbed them as if he could massage all the turmoil of the past straight out of you.

It was also like muscle memory to have Sam beneath you as your legs splayed over his hips, knees pressed into your mattress. His hair was fanned out against your pillow as you swept your fingers through the long strands while your other hand kept a determined hold on his face, your thumb aligned with his jaw to keep him in place. 

His hands roamed down your sides, his touch fluid and familiar, his kisses the same, and all the daydreams and real dreams of doing this again flooded your mind, making you question if what was happening was even real. You pulled back to look at him, to assure yourself that he was here, that it was real, and those dark doe eyes looked back into your own, his lashes fluttering as a little smile graced his rosy lips. 

“Did you really miss me?” you asked as you released his jaw and touched your fingers to his mouth, tracing down his chin, his neck.

He nodded, hands squeezing your hips. “Every day.” Then he answered the next question you had: “I felt too embarrassed to go back…to try to undo it.”

You shook your head with a sigh, stroking his hair. “For being so smart, you really are so stupid, Sam.”

“I know.”

You sat back, removing your hands from him entirely. “So…what does this mean? Are you just gonna ditch me when the tour starts up again?”

“That wasn’t my plan. But I don’t expect you to forgive me or get back with me either.” He sat up as much as he could, propping his upper body up on his elbows. “We can stop right now if you want.”

Maybe you’d jumped back into things too soon. Especially without a real declaration and a real commitment to, well, commitment, it seemed way too likely you’d just end up heartbroken again. 

“What do you want?” you asked, still keeping your hands to yourself. 

Sam sat up more and wrapped his arms around your middle. He rested his head against your chest and sighed, but didn’t answer–not with words, anyway. You knew what that hug, what that hold on you, meant. You could remember like it was yesterday the first time Sam hugged you like that.

“I was such a fucking idiot,” Sam said, breaking the silence. He pressed his face into your sternum and groaned. “I am such a fucking idiot. I wanted you to come back to me so bad. Why would I have ever expected you to do that?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders in return. “Why would you expect that?”

One of the many troubles you were now experiencing was how you knew sleeping with Sam right away wouldn’t be fair to yourself. It’d be like rewarding bad behavior, you thought. But you wanted to–that was never an issue. There had never been a moment with him where you hadn’t wanted to do but, more than that, there had also never been a moment where you’d felt even mildly uncomfortable with him. From the beginning, despite his chaotic, fiery and slightly unpredictable nature, you flowed into him easily, like a steady river.

With a sigh, you moved off him and sat up against the headboard. Sam followed, sitting next to you without touching. “You still haven’t told me what you want,” you reminded him as you glanced at your dresser across the room. Inside the top drawer, the photos of you and him and you and the boys that once hung above the TV and all over your fridge were trapped, hidden beneath socks and underwear. 

It was against his nature to not be touching you–you knew it was probably taking a considerable amount of willpower to curb that–so when Sam leaned against your shoulder, you stayed put. 

“I wanna be together again,” he told you, and the words sounded sincere. “I should have never ended things. I never should have stopped talking to you. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

You were inclined to agree, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

“You came back…and came back to me,” you began while Sam leaned more of his weight on you. “But it doesn’t really feel like it.” At that, you felt him shift away, almost not touching again. But not quite–his knee was still just barely pressed into your thigh. 

“Why not?”

You hadn’t completely realized it until you said it, but it felt so painfully true as the words came out of you: “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore, Sam. The last time we spoke, you were telling me it was over. You were dumping me for–for what? I still don’t get it. Maybe I never will. All it seemed like to me was that you just didn’t love me. Like you never did.” You turned your head, not even wanting to see a glimpse of him. “I’ve had to try and swallow that epiphany all this time. And all this time, not only did I feel like you never loved me, but you never spoke a single word to me to try and correct that.”

Silence returned, heavy and confounding, for a long minute, maybe even two. Then Sam said, “Fuck.” You physically felt more than you actually watched him get off the bed, but you looked right at him when he was standing on the other side of it. “You think you don’t know me anymore, Y/N. You don’t love me anymore.”

That wasn’t true, but you weren’t opposed to him thinking that for a little while. Who the hell was Sam to just waltz up to your door out of the blue, to step right back into your home and your life as if he’d never left after all the shit he’d said to you? After he tore your heart right out of your chest, threw it to the ground and stepped on it? He could sit with some heartache himself, you thought, for a little while. You’d had enough for a lifetime.

Still sitting on your bed, you watched him in silence–instead of actually leaving, he stepped over to your desk chair and ran his hands down the cardigan that was lying over the back of it. Like he was waiting for something, because he also knew what he said wasn’t true. 

Your hand found the warmth his body had left behind on the sheets and you definitively, without a shadow of a doubt, knew that you really couldn’t ever let him go again. 

“Don’t go,” you said, standing up and moving to meet him at the chair, standing behind him. You laid one hand over his. “I do love you, Sammy. I never stopped.” Before he could reply, you went on, resting your cheek on his shoulder: “Even though you’re selfish and stupid and infuriating. Even though you don’t deserve it. I can’t help it.” You closed your eyes and rubbed your nose into the fabric of his shirt before you added, “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, turning his hand over so he could lace your fingers together. “I know that.”

Despite craving any words from him for so long, you wanted something else now. You wanted Sam’s skin under your hands, his kisses back on your neck–as you both fumbled to get your clothes off, writhing on the bed, you got those wishes. And now that Sam knew he had you, his kisses were a little softer, a little slower as he straddled you; now that you knew you had him, you felt like you could breathe again. Your fingers danced easily over his skin, from the subtle slope of his shoulders down to his warm chest; he let out a soft little huff when your hands squeezed his sides, then used one to press against his belly, your thumb lingering right at the waistband of his briefs.

“We really can wait, Y/N,” Sam reminded you when you slipped your hand beneath the cotton. “If you think that’d be better.”

“I don’t wanna wait. I’m sick of waiting.” You arched your back, trying to get more of Sam’s weight on top of you. A confession, one that you’d been shamefully keeping all to yourself, rolled out next: “I haven’t been with anyone since you left.”

“No way,” Sam said, sounding both smug and in disbelief. He smiled a little while his own fingers roamed, making their way down between your legs. “Does everything still work correctly?”

His ticklish touch along your inner thigh made you giggle and tremble a bit. “As far as I know.” You looked down, watching his fingers slide down the center of your panties. When Sam didn’t confess on his own, you felt inclined to pry–against your better judgment: “What about you?”

Sam wrapped his free hand around yours, encouraging you to keep touching him–he was as hot and as hard as ever. “Feel for yourself,” he said, making your hand wrap more firmly around his length.

Your cheeks were blazing hot. “Seriously,” you insisted, keeping your hand still. “What about you?”

He planted his hands on your hips. “Just a few. Probably less than you’d expect, honestly.” He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his hair hanging down like a curtain. “I realized fairly quickly that no one made me feel like you did and I didn’t want to keep trying.”

“Oh really?” you replied, sounding more haughty and jealous than you’d intended. But Sam always unraveled you so easily, without even trying–it was no different now. You were honestly surprised you hadn’t burst into tears at some point since he’d shown up. 

“Yes, really, Y/N. What do you want me to do to prove how much I missed you? Want me to sing all your accolades and beg for forgiveness?”

You scoffed. “Yes, actually.”

Sam didn’t even look surprised. He smiled and leaned back, his hair falling back over his tanned shoulders, and shimmied down to sit between your thighs instead of on top of you. “Fine. I can do that.” He cocked his head to the side while his fingers tapped your thighs, looking you over. You were already almost naked but his gaze was lingering and penetrating over every part of your body, making you uncomfortable–what did all those other girls look like? Did he try to find ones that looked like you, or the opposite? Did he miss your personal brand of warmth and softness as much as you’d missed his? 

His hands reached out and quickly you were freed from your bra, it being cast aside to fall to the floor, and your underwear too. Your body tensed up instinctively, feeling far too exposed in front of the boy who’d destroyed your heart so easily, but then Sam stood up just long enough to match your nakedness.

He settled back down between your legs, draping his body over yours so he could meet your lips again. The kiss was deep and slow–no tongue, just his impossibly soft, sweet lips on yours while one of his hands cradled the side of your face and the other swept through your hair.

“Don’t get me wrong–I missed this,” Sam told you, pulling back. He looked down as his hands smoothed down your shoulders to gently squeeze your breasts. “But I really just missed being with you. I missed talking with you–you’re always so good at calling me out on my bullshit.” He laughed a little and your heart began to race harder–Sam was always more natural and skilled with physical action to express his feelings than words. The fact that he was letting his thoughts flow freely from his lips, speaking of love instead of destruction, made you wonder yet again if you were just in a dream. 

“I missed your voice. I missed you singing in the car,” he went on, lowering himself–he began to press kisses to your neck and chest as the rest of the words emptied out of him: “I missed the smell of your perfume on my clothes and your lipstick on my mouth.” You brought your hands to his head, finally feeling like you could move again, and let your fingers glide through his hair. “I missed hearing you laugh, especially when I was the one who made you laugh. All the noise from the crowds every night–” He shook his head with his face pressed against your sternum. “I always wanted to somehow hear your voice in all of that. I kept wondering if you’d surprise me by showing up at one night. But that was very selfish, wishful thinking.” 

He looked up into your eyes. “This is just the first step. But if you keep going with me, I swear that I’ll never let you go again.”

You let that declaration hang in the air for a moment before you asked, “Really, Sam?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes, Y/N. I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to.”

Traitorously, the tears returned. They swelled big and hot in your eyes and you turned your head away, bringing one hand up to try and wipe them away as if Sam might not notice, which was impossible. You felt his whole body stiffen, like he didn’t know what to do–you didn’t either. But then, a second later, his arms were around your shoulders, holding you up against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, just letting you cry.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Sam said softly. 

“I just wish you’d never left in the first place,” you said, the words strangled with the attempt to suffocate your sobs. 

“Me too, baby. Me fucking too.”

All the times you’d cried since he left, you’d just wished Sam was still the one to hold you. Now you had just that–shocking and destabilizing, he was really there, and when the tears wouldn’t stop, you became desperate just for some relief from the ocean of emotion that you needed to break free from.

“Please say something funny,” you pleaded, sniffing, embarrassed that your tears were soaking his hair and his skin now.

Sam laughed. “Okay. Hmm…the last time we played Houston, I got so drunk after the show that I went to the wrong hotel room. I kept trying my key card in the door, wondering why the fuck it wasn’t opening, and eventually after me making such a racket out there, the person staying in the room opened the door.” He pet your hair and your shoulder blades and you found your tears slowing, your chest feeling more open. “And instead of just like, recognizing it wasn’t my room, I started arguing with them because I was so wasted I still really thought it was my room.”

That little story did make you laugh–the crying was traded for giggles, then louder, open-mouthed laughs. “God, Sam. What’s wrong with you?” you asked, hugging him tighter.

“So much. But you already knew that.”

Your laughter was contagious for Sam; all the laughter turned into silly, giggly kisses and then, when your skin was warm from love and not fear and your heart felt whole for the first time in a long time, Sam was all over you once more.

“Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” he panted with his mouth pressed just below your ear. His breath and saliva had made your skin and hair there wet–you didn’t care. You were both sweaty already, with Sam thrusting even and deep inside of you, his hips pounding against yours, and your hands all over him to keep him as close as possible. 

He felt amazing too. Not just the way he was fucking you–or really, as cheesy as it sounded in your head, making love to you–but his entire body. His whole essence. From his hair to his chiseled cheeks, the slightly scratchy beard, his warm chest with the fast-beating heart beneath and all of the silken, golden skin on yours, his beautiful body back in your arms, Sam was amazing. 

One particularly dense thrust against your tight walls made you gasp and dig your nails into his back. Sam groaned and sank his teeth into your neck, growling, “Fuck yeah, baby. Mark me up. I’m all yours.”

The sharpness of his teeth was brief–he resumed soft kisses to your neck then your mouth, capturing your moans and signs with his lips and tongue. You’d been on your back with your eyes closed moaning and sighing about him countless times since he’d left, but could never capture even a fraction of the real thing in those fantasies. When you would come, his name would crescendo from your throat like another sob, and when you’d open your eyes, you found yourself more alone than ever.

This time, when you came, his name didn’t sound like a desperate, aching plea–it sounded light and free even to your own ears, and when Sam kissed you right after the sound echoed through your bedroom, you could feel his smile on your lips. 

You hooked your fingers in his hair and held him against you while the movement of his hips actually slowed instead of sped up. Confused, you opened your eyes and turned your head to break away from his lips, to look at him instead. 

Flush-faced with his eyes bright, Sam smiled again and brought his hand to the crown of your head, his thumb stroking your forehead, his fingers curling into your hair. “That’s good,” he said, voice as soft as the summer breeze whisking through your open windows. “I wanted to look at you too.”

“I can’t believe I really am,” you said a little breathlessly, the last few aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through you. “After all this time.”

Sam smiled and worked up to his previous pace, never taking his eyes off yours; when he let out a huff and bit his lip, you pulled him down to do that yourself–your lips captured his in fierce kisses that you hoped wordlessly translated into “you’re mine forever,” your hands gripped his body like you’d never let go, and you squeezed yourself around his cock to make him whimper, then whimper your name in return as the muscles in his thighs fluttered and he let his whole weight drop on top of you.

Thankfully, he really didn’t weigh all that much. You hugged him, the two of you just breathing together, recovering from the confusion and madness and anguish to, as you now knew, steadily blossom together like the backyard garden you’d tended to in his absence. There was so much to catch up on, you thought while you stroked his hair and he stroked your skin, and so much to look forward to. 

Later, when the sun had almost completely dipped behind the trees and the stars were beginning to sparkle overhead, the two of you sat in the backyard, hands clasped together.

“How long are you going to be back home for?” you asked. That question had never bothered you before the breakup but now, you felt a little edginess as you asked it. You were now sure Sam meant everything that he said, that you two were as solid as ever, but simply knowing he’d be on the road again for however long after he’d finally come back to you made your heart feel heavy. 

“Tour starts up again in a month,” he told you, catching your gaze in the last little lingering bit of the warm sunset. “I was hoping I’d be here until then.” He brought his hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “If you still want that.”

A month. It wasn’t enough, because nothing with Sam was ever enough, but you silently vowed to yourself to make every second of it count more than it ever had before.

“I want infinity with you, Sam,” you told him, unable to help the smile that broke out on your face as he smiled with a lot of glee and just a little of that familiar smugness. “Always have, always will.” 

---

Tagging: @kissingsun @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @milojames16 @mindastreamofcolours @brokebellsgvf @wetkleenex-gvf @itsafullmoon @heckingfrick @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @jjwasneverhere

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[jealusty--movedaccounts]

Can I Be Him?

PAIRINGS : Lee Felix × fem!reader.

WORD COUNT : 7.9k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : multiple pov (reader+felix+author/narrator), reader has a toxic bf and felix wants her, strangers to friends to lovers, nightclub meet cute lmao, drinking, protective!felix, (un)requited love, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending.

A/N : This was supposed to be a quick smut drabble, but I can't live without adding some angst apparently. The more you know.

"Please, angel. You don't know how long I've been wanting this. I want to do this right. I want to worship you like you deserve."

If you could, you might melt into a puddle right then and there, but his dick is just a few centimeters away from your fingertips, and your mind is just a little unhinged.

You click your tongue impatiently, "You know damn well what happened the last time you tried to do this right. You wouldn't want history to repeat, would you?" His fly is undone in a flash.

"Tick tock, baby."

Main Masterlist

Smut warnings under the cut

SMUT WARNINGS : Lots of kissing, nicknames (baby, angel), switch!felix, switch!reader, Felix as a service top halfway through, begging (willingly, not forced lol), marking (once), voice kink(? Idk the reader gets horny over his deep voice), oral (m.+f. recieving), slight voyeurism (alleyway blowjob), deepthroating, body worship, nipple play, praise kink, spitting, dirty talk, unprotected intercourse (do better), squirting, creampie, fucking that turns to lovemaking, revelations about sexual preferences

"He left again?"

Wrapping your shivering arms around yourself in a failed attempt to bring some warmth, you smile "It's okay."

How the fuck could you smile at that?

"It's okay? Nothing is okay here. You're trembling on the street alone in the middle of the night, and it's okay?"

"It's really fine, Lixie, he had something important to take care of."

"And what could be more important than taking his girlfriend home? He couldn't offer you a ride on his way? Or at least get you in a fucking cab?"

You smile at how riled up Felix was getting, he always was the overprotective type, one of the kindest souls you'd met. That was the only reason he was so worried about you. That was why he looked about fit to burst right now. Yeah, he's just kind.

Who you were convincing, you weren't sure.

You had met him about ten months ago, in this very bar, when you'd come in for the first time. He'd been a regular and you'd clicked in an instant. You remember the night distinctly.

Stepping into 'Enigma', you repeated your plan in your head over and over,

I just need to get it out. I'm gonna find some cute guy, flirt with him, fuck him, and be on my merry way.

Only, you hadn't ever done this before. Only, it was your first time being alone in a nightclub. Only, you didn't know how to flirt- all your sexual experiences being with past lovers.

Oh god, this was such a bad idea.

If I just turn around a little bit, just a little, at a distance of like two steps, I can be out and into the confines of my home and wallow in-

No. Stop doing this. Calm the fuck down.

Making your way to the bar before your brain could talk you out of it, you order a Cosmo. You'd rather have your wits about you if you were going to fuck a stranger.

Fuck, am I actually doing this?

You swirl in your bar stool, looking around, and within seconds, lock eyes with a handsome stranger leaning against the wall right on the opposite side of the nightclub.

Oh, I'm doing this, alright.

You offer what you think is a flirtatious smile, and the man smiles so brightly at you, you get whiplash.

Heck yeah, I'm definitely doing this.

The bartender calls over to you to let you know that your drink is ready, promptly ending the little staring contest you'd unknowingly been participating in.

You turn back and accept your drink.

When you look over your shoulder again, the stranger is gone. Looking around, you don't see him again.

I'm not gonna get it today, am I?

Just as you were about to actually physically whine, you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Is this seat taken?"

Hah! I'm getting it.

You shake your head a little too eagerly, hoping it doesn't show. If he notices your enthusiasm, he doesn't say anything. Sliding into the stool next to you, he turns to face you,

"I'm Felix."

Now that you have gotten over your little mental victory dance, you hear him, like really hear him.

"What the-"

"That's an interesting name." He chuckles, not at all bothered by your bluntless.

"Sorry, it's just, your- your voice... " You fumble about, not really knowing what to say.

"Is..?" He cocks up an eyebrow.

Oh, he was enjoying this a little too much.

"Really-" You almost said 'turning me on.' It was. It really was. It was so thick, deep and velvety. Like the deepest of hot dark chocolates melting and trickling down the wine glass. Just a lick of your wine tinted lips, and you could get a heavenly mouthful.

Snapping out of the reverie of thirsty thoughts you'd found yourself in, you are suddenly aware that you never completed your earlier thought. He doesn't seem to mind, looking patiently at you with an amused expression, sipping on his whiskey he'd apparently ordered in the time you were thirsting over his voice.

"- uh, really deep." You settle. Your add your name at the last minute. God, he only just came here and your brain was already short circuiting.

"Nice to meet you." He flashes that million watt smile at you again and you fucking melt.

It doesn't make sense, how a criminally handsome man, with voice as deep as a void, had the cutest fucking toothy smile.

Are those freckles I'm seeing!? Lord have mercy, kill me while you're at it, why don't you.

You manage to crack out a smile, and he beams. The rest of the night goes on smoothly. The conversation is natural between you two. No forced topics, no awkward silence. It's almost perfect. Key word : almost.

The only problem being, he hasn't made a move on you once. Heck, he didn't even try to flirt with you, let alone touch you. You waited and waited, but nothing happened.

Does he have a girlfriend?

You carefully manage to slip it into coveration, but he denies it.

Oh, so you're just not interested in me, huh? That's nice to know.

As the night goes on, your hopes keep getting lower and reach an all time low when he guides you out of the club and helps you into the Uber.

"Aren't you getting in?" You ask in a last ditch attempt to get him to see that you very clearly want him.

"Nah, I live around the corner here. I'll be fine walking. Get home safe."

On the ride home, you realise he didn't even ask for your number.

Was I that off putting?

Over the course of the week, you get to know that he didn't need to ask for your number, because you see each other everyday at the same place, same time. You always get a Cosmo, he always gets a whiskey, you talk all night, he keeps his distance.

That last part frustrated you to no end, made you want to pull your hair out.

Does he really just want a friend? That can't be it, right? Who looks to make a friend of the opposite sex at a nightclub?

Felix did, apparently. It became plenty clear what he saw you as, on the sixth day of you both hanging out together.

He had called a cab for you yet again - much like almost every other day - when you drunkenly mumble, "Thanks for always doing this for me."

"Hey, don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"

That's enough to sober you up.

As the cab begins moving forward, you feel your heart sieze. You don't know when your need to fuck him turned into this stupid crush you're just coming to terms with. But as the cab ride continues, the pain seeps through and you come to the realisation that it isn't - wasn't - just a stupid crush. It was so much more.

Such a unique flavor of masochism, unrequited love.

You wash the tears away in your shower later that night, only to cry some more.

So really, he's just being kind when he's so worked up about your boyfriend ditching you.

"I'll call you a cab."

"Just like the old days." Your drunken mind muses.

Felix doesn't reply, but you think you see a flick of seriousness on his face. It's gone as soon as it came, leaving you to wonder if your drunk mind was playing games on you.

"Ugh! There are no cabs available."

"I'll just wait around for one to pass by, then."

"While you're drunk this late in the night? Like hell you will."

You just giggle in response and Felix almost coos at the sight. Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, for a moment - just a moment - he thinks about taking you home with him. It's just a few minutes walk away. But he quickly shuts it down. As pathetic as it sounds, he doesn't really trust himself around you.

Finally deciding on the best game plan that doesn't involve him having to check himself and his little guy down there, he takes your hand and guides you away from the club.

You don't even question him, trailing behind, barely managing to walk straight.

The walk is silent, his hand in yours warm. You both stop in front of an apartment complex about ten minutes later.

"Is this your place?" You wonder out aloud.

"Yeah, just wait here. I'll be back."

You grasp at his sleeve just as he's about to take off "What do you mean wait here? Am I not coming in?"

"Uh, there's no need. I'll be two minutes. I just have to get my car keys and then I'll drop you off."

All the insecurities from months back return with an ugly thump.

"Am I really that unappealing to you?" You find your wobbly voice saying, the alcohol doing the talking for you.

"What?" He's taken aback by the sudden question. Moreso, by the sudden gloss that covers your eyes.

"Even back then, you approached me but never tried anything. Am I that unattractive to you?"

Was that what you had been thinking all this time?

How does he tell you, the reason he didn't make any moves was because he wanted to do it right? He didn't see you as just a fuck. Sure, he approached you with that intention, but as you began to talk, he felt that spark, that connection with you he had never experienced before. Being with you was easy. He wanted to be around you more. He didn't want to screw this up by propositioning you. You would fuck, then what? He wanted you in his life, so he had to play his cards right.

Alas, he had never been much of a card-sharp.

Two months after the cab incident, where he fucked up and called you a friend, you had started dating your now boyfriend.

It had shattered him. Seeing you laughing with someone else, kissing someone else. The chance went right past him.

If only he had known. If only he hadn't been such a coward.

Stepping towards you, he hesitantly holds you at arms length, looking into your eyes. He's not sure what he sees there. Why does it matter to you? Has it bothered you all this time? Why, though? You never gave any signs that you liked him back. That's ridiculous. You wouldn't be dating your current boyfriend if you felt anything at all for him.

He brushes the thought aside, blaming your strange behaviour on alcohol and hormones at having been ditched by your boyfriend.

"Hey, no. You're beautiful, okay? You're- you're.." He feels a lump forming in his throat. How does he go about explaining what he truly thinks of you? If he were to keep talking, he would end up confessing, he's sure.

"Just- just stay, here, okay? I won't take more than a minute." He rushes off.

A part of him feels bad at not reassuring you more, but he just has to get away from you, your warmth. The urge to take you in his arms too strong, he feels his restraint slipping away.

This is exactly why he didn't want to let you stay the night.

Sure enough, within a minute, he's out with a key dangling off his fingers.

You have considerably calmed down by then, despite it being only a minute since you were practically ready to cry.

Just alcohol and hormones. It's okay.

You walk off to his car without looking at him and yank the car door. It doesn't budge, "Are you gonna keep standing there?"

Felix is visibly taken aback at your harsh tone and choice of words, dumbly unlocking the car and getting in with you.

Hormones. Hormones. Alcohol. Hormones.

The entire car ride, you're silent. But it's just the calm before the storm, he can feel it.

When he stops in front of your place - having known your address after calling the cab for you on multiple occasions - you just sit there, unmoving. He can see you simmering away. Whatever's going on in your head, it can't be pleasant.

Contrary to what he'd thought, you reach out for him and rest your hand on his collarbone, half covered by his silk shirt.

"Did I tell you that you look good today? So pretty." Your voice is but a whisper and the drowsy expression on your face has him reeling.

When he doesn't say anything - but doesn't resist your touch either - you slide your hand futher up his clavicle, stopping at the base of his throat, then slowly traveling up and over his adam's apple, across his jawline, to the back of his head. Sinking your fingers into his mullet, you mumble "So soft," eyes glazed over, lips parted. Your thumb pokes out from under his ear and you quickly run it over his bottom lip, "so so soft." Your words feel distant to your own ears, as if they're echoing from somewhere underwater and not your mouth.

He looks into your eyes that are fixed at his lips. Your cheeks are a pretty shade of pink, your lips wet and pillowy. Your pupils are blown wide, and you look... turned on?

The sight of you has blood rushing straight to his cock before he can stop it.

Your eyes find his again, an electricity zings through his nerves and it's all he can do to not give in and sink his teeth into that godforsaken lower lip of yours.

You lean forward, his breath hitches. He can feel your breath right on his lips and honestly, it's turning his brain to mush.

Before things could go any more South, before his dick can get any harder, he latches onto the last bit of sanity he has left.

"Y-you have a boyfriend." Is all he says, finding himself physically incapable of outright denying you.

The simple statement seems to have knocked some sense into you, as you suddenly pull away, eyes wide, that drowsy look wiped clean off your face.

"Sor-rry, I should- I should go. Yeah." You fumble with the seatbelt and next thing he knows, you are out the door.

The air around him feels entirely too cold without your warmth, increasingly too harsh without your sweet scent filling it.

The wind is chilly, goosebumps braking across your skin. Not really surprising considering it's nearing the end of the year.

Not the best idea to wear a sheer bodycon dress, I guess.

Wrapping up on yourself you softly exhale, your breath condensing and curling, dancing away in the cool midnight breeze.

You feel a sudden warmth on your shoulders.. A jacket?

"What is up with you and the whole drunk-stranded-alone-at-midnight thing?"

That deep velvety voice.

You hadn't seen him in the two months since what you've decided to call your 'drunken fuck up'. He didn't show up at the club after, and it's then that you realised you didn't have each other's numbers, still.

"Your boyfriend leave you again?"

"No. I left him."

"What?" He isn't sure he understands.

"I broke up with him." You're not sure why you want him to understand.

It's then that he looks at you fully, his beautiful face iluminated even more beautifully by the full moon that looms over the two of you, silently watching. His raven locks are parted almost in the centre, forehead exposed, bangs reaching his eyes.

Fuck, he's gorgeous.

He watches you intently. You have no idea what's going on in his head, his expression unreadable.

You think back to what went down in his car all those days ago. You definitely picked up on the fact that he was aroused too, that he wanted what you wanted too.

You were sure. But another thing you also were, was drunk. Could you have misread the entire situation?

"How are you getting home?" he disregards your comment altogether.

But of course, rejection at its finest. Just my luck.

"Cab."

He chuckles, "You know how to hail a cab?"

"Had to learn to since you ghosted me." The remark comes off with more of a bite than you had intended.

He falls quite, face turning serious. His attempt at keeping the conversation lighthearted having failed miserably.

Guess it's now or never.

"Hey, the reason I backed off that da-"

"I know. You were right to do that. Thanks. But what I don't know is why you had to ghost me after."

He sighs. Truth be told, he doesn't know himself. He didn't think it through. You have a way of making his head go blank, of making him lose the ability to think rationally and make mature decisions.

"I know it was a dick move, and I-I honestly don't know what I was thinking."

You squint your eyes, waiting.

One look at your face and the word vomit begins, "I-I've wanted you since that day we met last year. I wanted you that day, but then we talked and then I actually began to like you. And I didn't want to mess it up, so- so I didn't do anything about it that day - or the next day - or the next week. God, that was my biggest mistake! I thought I was taking my time, when I was really just being a coward. I... I realised a little too late that I liked you a little too much and by then... By then- you.. " He swallows, looking away.

You take a step forward, reaching out for him much like you did that day, cupping his chin, turning his face towards you.

"Do you still want me?" You whisper, eyes transfixed on those darn pink lips of his that were looking a little too appetizing right about now.

"Ye-"

The word is barely out of his mouth and you're swallowing it, pushing your lips onto his with such force, you both stumble back and his hands fly to grip your waist tightly.

And you love it, you love finally having his hands on you, your lips on his, his breath in your mouth.

You move your lips against his, slowly nibbling, then suking on his bottom lip, biting softly. He yelps a little, but there's no way in heck you're stopping now.

You lick at his lower lip to sooth the ache, your way of saying you're sorry.

And then do it all over again.

You part his lips with yours, tongue slipping in, twirling around his own, exploring his mouth, taking in the taste of him. He groans, breathing hard and goes to pull away, probably to breath, but you don't let him.

Fisting both his collars in your hands, you yank him toward you, your entwined tongues now transferring into your mouth due to the momentum with which he falls forward. You gladly welcome it.

You let him set the pace this time. His hot wet tongue caresses your own, gliding and flicking. He withdraws it, and suddenly sucks borderline violently, and in the next moment, you find that your tongue is in his mouth again, and he's still sucking on it.

A loud honk jolts you apart, both of you panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

It's him who still has the wits to turn around and come face to face with a very annoyed cab driver. How long had he been here?

The tips of his ears burning red, he steps away from your grasp whilst you catch your breath.

You don't register what he does or what he says. In your dazed state, you can only make out the low rumble of his deep voice and the sound of a car taking off.

His hand suddenly grasps your. He looks into your eyes with a questioning look and you know exactly what he's asking for. You quickly nod and he wastes no time tugging you along.

His apartment is only ten minutes away, but the buzzing between your legs is too strong and your willpower is too weak.

You feel desire overtake the rational part of your brain, arousal clouding your judgement.

He isn't faring any better, ducking into an alleyway to take a shortcut.

As if sensing your impatience, he goes "Just another two minutes." His voice is gruff, the octave even lower than what it usually is.

It was no secret that his voice was your weakness, and hearing it take on such a low note, something in you snaps.

Before you know it, you're pushing him against the wall in the alleyway, taking those pillowy lips between yours. There's no time for build up, no time to fool around. You want to inhale him.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, the kind that lets you know you're doing it right.

Primal need consuming you, your hands hastily go down to his belt, fumbling and unbuckling.

That seems to catch his attention, "W-wait!"

Your reaction is immediate, dropping your hands and pulling back slightly, you pant "What's wrong? You don't want this?"

"No!" He flinches when he yells a little too loud, "I mean, no, I do, I do want it. God knows I want to. Just.. Not here."

You relax at that. Your hands find purchase on his belt again, slowly sliding along towards the buckle. You lean back into him and whisper against his lips, "Can't wait. I've waited enough."

With one clean move his buckle is undone, your hands hovering over his zipper, eyes carefully studying his face. If he's genuinely uncomfortable doing this here, you're not going to force him. But if there's a chance that he might be willing, you're jumping at it.

"Please, angel. You don't know how long I've been wanting this. I want to do this right. I want to worship you like you deserve."

If you could, you might melt into a puddle right then and there, but his dick is just a few centimeters away from your fingertips, and your mind is just a little unhinged.

You click your tongue impatiently, "You know damn well what happened the last time you tried to do this right. You wouldn't want history to repeat, would you?" His fly is undone in a flash. Honestly, you don't know how. You're not controlling your motions or your words right now. It's as if something has come over you, but you're not sure what, "Tick tock, baby."

He still looks uncertain, so you allow yourself to be serious for a moment, for one last moment before caution and all else is thrown out the window, "Just let me blow you, alright? Then we can go back to your place."

He grunts at your choice of dirty words, sounding pained, "Fuck, you want me dead, don't you?"

You're still looking at him and he gives you a nod. That's all the signal you need to deftly pull his entirely unnecessary pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

To be tactful, he's well endowed. To be filthy, he has a fat cock.

You wrap your hand around him, finally finally feeling it in your palm.

You squeeze very slightly, he fucking twitches and you think you might die if he's not in your mouth within the next ten seconds.

Dropping to your knees, your spit on your palm, coating his length generously. Then, just for good measure and only partly to put on a show, you spit on his now wet cock.

"Didn't know you were so dirty", he breathes, sounding awed.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. I don't do clean." You smirk up at him and that's all the warning he gets before you are taking him in your mouth, all the way until he hits your uvula.

"ah, fuck-"

You smile, mouth still full of him and angle your head upwards, so that he can slip into your throat. He does so, and you're concentrating on taking him as deep as your throat will allow. That's when he starts begging,

"A-angel, please. Ah shi- just please."

Oh, how sweet he sounds, you absolutely have to tease him.

You release him with a loud, wet 'pop' "Please, what?"

He's breathless, looking down at you with so much vulnerability that you almost feel bad for teasing him. Almost.

"Please just, ugh, please keep going."

You would like to make him work more for his release, but to be quite frank, you already miss the heavy weight of his cock in your mouth.

Taking him this time is a little easier as your jaw has adjusted to the sheer size of him. Looking right into his eyes, you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and Felix promptly loses it. He's pulling at his own hair, grunting, and panting.

Your don't move or bob your head, instead stay there with him down your throat, and move your tongue along the underside of his shaft, not quite twirling - only because there's no space in your mouth that is stuffed so full - just caressing.

"Oh god, please, please. Angel, please."

You decide to take mercy on the poor guy, deciding not to play with him anymore.

Maybe next time.

Keeping him in your throat you swallow once, twice and then he's cumming, thick white spurts shooting directly down your air column, almost making you gag. But you're nothing if not stubborn. You swallow all of him and pull away when he starts to whine from the sensitivity.

You're panting, he's panting. Life's good.

"C'mere." his voice is hoarse even though it's your throat that has just been abused.

He pulls you into a kiss that's altogether too sweet given what just went down.

"Let's go."

You don't know how you get to his apartment. Hell, you don't even know how you get into the bedroom. All you know is that as soon as you're within the privacy of four walls, it's like a switch flips within him. He's practically tearing your clothes away, your shirt and jeans tossed aside into some corner of the room. His own clothes recieve the same treatment shortly after.

Left only in your bra and underwear, you take in your surroundings. His room is well organised. Minimalistic, yet homey and cozy. A soft yellow light is on in lieu of the tubelight, painting the room in a sombre glo-

Your train of thoughts is cut off by your own yelp.

"Eyes on me, angel." Gone is the sweet guy with doe eyes who was begging you in the dark alleyway. The person in front of you is the man with such deep and velvety a voice, he could pass for a siren.

As he approaches you, the look in his eyes so carnal, you're sure you're about to be thrown onto the bed. You've never been much for manhandling, but you'd be willing to give it a shot for him.

So consider your surprise when - as opposed to the utter hunger in his eyes - he tenderly places one hand on the the small of your back, the other holding your head, securing you in his hold. You are guided onto your back on the bed so gently that it hurts, him coming up to hover over you.

"You're so pretty. So so pretty. My pretty angel." His lips find your cheek, kissing softly and then trail down, across your jaw, to your throat where he leaves butterfly kisses. He moves to work at your collarbones, licking long stripes on each one and moving downwards between the valley of your breasts.

You squirm under him, wanting some sort of relief from the growing heat between your legs. "Felix," you breathe out, not sure where the sentence was going, but it only felt natural to say his name out loud like you've always been wanting too. Far too long than you care to admit.

"Shh, angel. Please let me take my time. I've been wanting to worship you forever." He pulls the cups of your bra down, mouth attaching to one of your nipples.

His tongue swirls around your bud, getting it all nice and wet before sucking the wetness right off it. He continues this game of his for a little while, till both your nipples are hardened and sensitive. Letting up with a lewd pop, he gazes down at them and seemingly satisfied, moves down your body.

He drags his tongue from the base of your sternum to your belly button in one long lick, stopping to suck a hickey just underneath it, on your lower belly.

You tried to indulge him, you really did. Even so, you are but a weak woman when it comes to the object of your desires, that happens to be present right here. So close, yet so far away.

"F-felix. Just..."

"Just what, angel?" He smirks.

Oh, this motherfucker.

You pout up at him, "Is this your way of taking revenge or something?"

The smirk on his face disappears. He crawls up to come to eye level with you, face suddenly earnest.

"No, angel. This is about you, only about you. Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you." His eyes flash with genuine care, "God, I'll give you everything. Just tell me. Please."

You could feel the sincerity coming off him. He wasn't just talking about sex. He really would give you anything, if only you gave him a chance.

In all the years of your sexual experience, you were rendered wordless for the first time. No one had been so thoughtful, so open, so vulnerable with you. Your ex never cared enough to ask what you wanted. He just did what he felt like.

It wasn't just him who did that. All the guys you'd slept with only ever cared about their release.

So, much like all the other worldly things, you'd come to realise that if you wanted something, you'd have to take it. You weren't going to sit around, waiting for someone to be nice enough to throw some empathy your way.

No, you knew what you wanted and took it. You came to terms with the fact, and that was when you built the whole dom persona around yourself. Being snarky and mouthy in bed, trying to overpower, fighting for dominance, setting your pace on your terms.

But now, with Felix looking at you with so much adoration, offering pleasure, your pleasure for nothing in return - requesting you to let him pleasure you, you couldn't help but question,

Why had I done all that?

Sex wasn't a fight. It wasn't about who was on top. It was about mutual gratification, two people satisfying each other.

He could sense the surprise on your face. "Why do you look so taken aback, angel?" He gently asks, brushing your hair off your forehead.

"It's just.. no one's ever.. said that."

"Said what?"

"No one's put my need above theirs. No one's asked me what I want."

His brows furrow at that, "Not even your ex?"

You shake your head no.

"I knew that bastard treated you like shit, but I had no idea he didn't even fuck you right." He looks angry now, "But know this, angel, as long as you'll let me, I'll give you anything you want. So tell me, tell me what you want. Nothing is off limits, okay?"

Nothing?

This sends your brain into overdrive. Here is a drop dead gorgeous man, ready to be at your service, telling you that you could ask anything of him, do anything to him, and he'll... let you?

Your mind is reeling at all the possibilities, yet you can't seem to say much.

He, yet again, perceives your hesitance, understanding that this might be new territory for you, and offers "Can I taste you?"

You can only nod.

Slowly, he descends down until he's face to face with your crotch. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he removes them in one swift motion, and almost groans at the sight.

Index finger running up and down your slit, he hums, gathering your wetness, only to swirl it in and around your labia, smearing all over.

As he leans forward, you expect him to dive right in, but he does no such thing.

Landing his tongue flat, he licks up your outer lips, the reason for all the smearing abundantly clear now. He goes at it until there's nothing left to lick, and only then does he move onto the inside of your folds.

Using only the tip of his tongue, he slowly traces the inner outline of your inner lips, not sucking, just collecting your juice, pushing it upwards and letting it pool on your clit. Once he's made a nice little puddle there, he closes his lips around the bud and sucks. Hard.

"fuck-"

His enthusiasm escalates at the exclaimation, repeating the action over and over. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his hair and guiding it up and down, pushing him in. He takes a deep breath, as if suddenly breathless.

No shit, he is breathless. How's he supposed to breath down there?

Releasing him, you panic "Oh shit! I'm so so-"

"Shh, it's okay, take what you need. I told you it's about you," He takes your hand, guiding it back to the back of his head, curling his fingers around yours, until you're fisting those silky locks, "suffocate me in your essence. Fucking drown me."

That damn velvety voice saying those vile words does something to you. You feel your resolve crumble, and before you can question yourself, you're pulling his head back between your thighs, moving it around, seeing what feels best.

He doesn't resist. He sticks his tongue out and keeps it there, letting you move his head.

It's when his wet muscle passes your hole that you let out a loud moan. He thought you'd push him in there, but instead your movements turn frantic and you begin to wiggle your hips against his face, seemingly frustrated. It's then that he realises that you don't know what felt good and this is you trying to chase after that feeling that you lost.

"Have you never had your cunt eaten, angel?"

Damn him for sounding so cute while uttering such filth.

"Nobody cared enough to."

"Don't worry, I got you. Just relax for me, okay?"

You nod and let go of his hair, head falling back onto the mattress.

He buries his face back where it belongs, if he were to say so himself, and wastes no time putting his tongue into your hole, deeper than it went last time. And sure enough, he's rewarded with an ever louder moan from you.

Determined to give you the best orgasm of your life, he uses one of his thumb to lift the hood of your clit, the other rubbing up and down the bundle of nerves. That has your back arching. Lost in pleasure you wrap your legs around his neck, pulling him further in.

He grunts, happy to be smothered. Each flick of his thumb has that familiar feeling bubbling in your tummy. It builds and builds and builds.

It's when he starts pumping that damn tongue of his in and out of your hole, that you see white sploches in your vision, mind going blank. You don't realise what's going on. All you know is that you can't feel your legs. It's like you've been brainwashed, like you're fucking levitating.

Slowly, your vision returns, breathing evens out, and your brain reboots. When you come down from your high, you're distinctly aware of the wetness all over your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you.

"Holy fuck, did I just-"

You look beside you where Felix is laying sideways, propped up on an elbow, looking at you with a smug look, clearly proud of himself.

"Yes, you did. I think you took the whole 'drown me' part quite seriously."

You let out an embarassed sound that was almost a squeal, and curl up into his chest.

He laughs at your cute shyness, as if you weren't grinding on his face a moment ago "Aw, it's okay, angel. That was hot."

You peer up at him through your lashes, "Hot?" You ask so cutely, he could take you then and there.

"So hot." He confirms

You give him a lopsided grin.

"But you look so fucked out right now. Was I that good?"

"So good." You reach up to kiss him, and the kiss has only just begun, when you feel his stiffness poking against your thigh.

He's so hard, it must hurt. You want to help him but know for a fact that your pussy is of no use right now, so you do the only other thing you can.

You wrap your hand around him, and start flicking your wrist.

"Ah fuck- angel, you don't h-have to. Take a breather."

"But you've been hard for so long. I want to help."

"It's- ah- it's okay. I came already, remember?"

That flips a switch in you. You swing your leg over both of his, lifting up to hover over him, straddling his hips. "Lee Felix, you're not getting out of this without fucking me."

He laughs at that, "Wouldn't dream of it, angel."

You smile and bend down to kiss him. His lips are still wet with your juices and you lick it off them before sliding your tongue in. The kiss turns frantic. There's nothing sweet about it. It's just a messy exchange of spit, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Condom?" You whisper into his mouth.

His eyes widen, "Shit! I-I don't have one." He looks about fit to cry, like a child whose favourite toy's been snatched right out his hand.

You almost laugh at his big, glassy eyes, "I'm on birth control. And clean. Are you?"

"I am!" He lets out a little too excitedly.

"Then we don't need a condom. Unless you'd rather not. It's okay. We don't have to if you're not comfortable."

He damn near chokes at that, "You- you mean I g-get to do this raw?" His eyes sparkle like the same toy's been returned to him, with an upgrade.

"Yes," you whisper in a low and sultry voice, "You get to do me raw."

His next groan is almost pained.

"You want to, baby?"

"Please."

You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him again, giving a few pumps for good measure - and maybe to hear him groan, but nobody needs to know that - and guide him to your entrance.

As you begin to sink down on him, he holds you still with his hands on your hips.

"W-wait. Wait, please."

"Everything okay?"

He laughs, "Yeah, yeah, good. Great. Just.. a little too great."

You don't get what he means and tilt your head.

He lets out another embarassed chuckle, "If you keep going, I might blow right now."

You smile, endeared "It's okay. I already finished earlier, just let go."

He suddenly sits up, and with him still sheathed in you, flips the two of you over, so that now you're on your back and he's hovering over you.

"No, I promised that this is about you. You are cumming at least twice."

Before you can protest, he pulls out just enough, and rams back in. The protest dies in your throat as it makes way for a loud moan to slip out.

"Fuck, so tight. You like that, angel?"

You clutch onto his shoulders as you nod, urging him to keep going.

Lucky for you, he's in no mood to stop.

He grinds and rolls his hips against yours, creating that delicious friction, but it's nowhere near enough for either of you. And that's exactly why he's doing it. He wants to draw this out, as much as he can.

"Angel, you're sucking me in. Won't even let me pull out. You want me that much?"

"So much." Your voice is distant now, lost somewhere in the lustful daze. He can feel it too.

Pulling out, he flips you flat on your stomach, and nudges your legs apart ever so slightly.

You're so far gone in the haze that you don't have it in you to try to take control, something you've always been doing.

But that's just the point, isn't it? To let go for once, to not fight and just give in to the moment.

And then, you feel it once again. That sinful stretch, his cock dragging against your walls. You never want him to stop.

"Oh god, I could spend forever between your thighs."

Funny you say that.

He bends over forward, until his chest and abdomen are flush against your back, legs tangled together. He takes both your hands in his, entwining your fingers together, and resting them on either side of your shoulders.

Locked together like this, he begins moving, slowly fucking into you, hips pushing back and forth.

You've never been with anyone like this. Sure, you've had a lot of sex in your life, there was even a time when you went through a 'bad girl' phase where you tried scoring a new guy every week.

Not my finest moment.

But this? This feels a whole new level of intimacy you've never tapped into.

"Feel good, angel?"

Oh, lord. Could he get any more more perfect?

"Yes, baby. You feel so good." You're not normally very vocal in bed. But, as you'd already established, nothing about this situation was normal.

"Me too, angel, me too. Your cunt is heaven."

You moan at that. You were never one for praise either, especially not the dirty kind.

Fuck, am I not rediscovering myself today.

His hips move rhythmically against your ass, grinding, moving in circles, pistoning, trying all sorts of things. But always at the same slow leisurely pace. You reach your hand back and squeeze his ass, nails digging into the flesh and push him further into you.

You don't know why you do that. Perhaps to get him to increase his pace or because you want to finish. Or.. maybe you just want him close. Close to a level you've never been with anyone.

His hips stutter, ass clenching under your palm, "fuck, d-don't- don't do that. I won't last."

"You don't have to. It's okay, we can do this again. We have all the time in the world. Don't hold back."

"We can?"

"Mhm." You say, noticing that this is the third time he's said something about wanting to make this last. Come to think of it, he was on the verge of cumming when he flipped you. Maybe this position helped him keep it together.

Wow, he must really want this. He must really want.. me.

Your thoughts are pulled from you when his hand reaches under you, rubbing you clit, his movements suddenly frantic, "Want you to come first."

You body begins to thrash as he continues his movements, hips not stopping once, pace increasing ever so slightly. You can feel your orgasm approaching, that familiar feeling rumbling in your stomach.

"So good, so beautiful, angel. My angel, aren't you?"

You don't have it in you to respond - a whimper will have to do - and Felix doesn't seem to want an answer either.

"Look so good like this, under me. Always wanna pleasure you, make you feel good."

God, that deep and rich voice whispering right in your ear was doing things to you.

Your body begins to tremble, thighs shaking.

"You close, angel? Gonna cum around my cock? Show me how good it makes you feel?"

You could feel your sanity chipping away, making room in your head not to be filled with anything. For the first time in what felt like forever, your head was empty. No overthinking, no thoughts, just Felix and his pretty cock and deep voice and angeli-

"Ah- Lix, I'm.. I'm-"

"Let go, angel."

With that, you're screaming, gushing all around his dick, body thrashing about, but you still manage to let out, "Inside, Lix, i-inside.. "

Felix lets out a loud grunt, the loudest he's been until now, "fuck, angel. I love you, fuck, fuck, fuck!" And then he's cumming, his arousal mixing with yours, the forbidden cocktail dripping out of you, over both of you, and onto the sheets. There's just that much of it.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavy, chest heaving against your back.

Your mind tries to process what he just said, trying to make sense of it, understand the gravity of it. But you don't say anything, giving him the time to come down.

You lay there like that for a while, occasionally kissing, breathing, listening to each other's breathing, and kissing some more.

After a while, he pulls out, and chuckles.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, to see him looking down at where your bodies were just connected.

"We made a mess. Think it might be a better idea to shower."

You nod, letting him pull you off the mattress. Your legs wobble a little, but he easily catches and steadies you. The trip to the bathroom is brief but your mind is restless. It's replaying the last words he said. Even as he carefully sets the temperature of the water just right, rubbing soap on your tired body with his small hands, kneading out the knots in your back, massaging you all over, his words are stuck in your head, swishing around.

He's massaging your shoulder when you suddenly hear the clearing of a throat, "So, about what I said.. "

Thank god he was willing to address it. You're not sure you could have survived the suspense any longer.

".. I, uh, want you to know that I'm sincere. I've been thinking about being with you ever since we met, and not in the way we were together just now. Uhm, I mean, together together."

You don't note the soft smile that takes over your face, "Me too." You turn around to face him, hands lodging on his shoulders, body naturally leaning into him.

That's the word. Natural. Being with him is so natural, as if you've done this a million times.

"You do?"

"I do. Maybe not love yet, but I'm sure if- when I get to know you, falling for you is going to be so natural."

He smiles at that, "Well, we better get to it then. How about a date tomorrow?"

"Excited, are we?"

"Please, if I could, I would take you out right now, but seeing as how I can barely stand, it will have to wait."

You laugh, feeling giddy and lean forward to peck him on the lips.

"So is that a.. yes?"

"Yes Felix, I'd love that."

He hums, moving forward, nuzzling his head in your shoulder, the voice reverberating from his chest to yours.

"God, your voice" slips out of your mouth without your own permission.

How rude.

"I know you have a thing for it."

"What?" Your cheeks heat up. You thought you weren't making it obvious.

"Why do think I was so talkitive towards the end?"

"I thought you just got mouthy when you were about to come."

"No," He laughs, "it's because I noticed how hot and bothered you got whenever I said something. I was just trying to help you finish."

Oh well, so much for being subtle.

"It's okay," He says picking up, yet again, on your embarrassment, "it can be your own exclusive kink."

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[cursedvibes]

Thoughts on Gege bringing back Nobara 5 chapters before the ending.

Man...that sure is a thing that happened. I don't even know how to feel about it. Technically, it's good. I like Yuuji and Nobara team-ups and appreciate the callback to their fight against Mahito. Nobara gets to contribute to the fight against the final villain (even if it's just one hit). But at the same time the exact thing I worried would happen if Nobara came back this late happened. Her being "confirmed" dead in ch 265 by Yuuji thinking about her and all the other loved ones he saw die felt weird, but this isn't any better. She literally came back at the last possible moment. Fell out of the hospital bed and immediately went over to do her thing against Sukuna. They sure are lucky she didn't wake up half an hour later and appears to have no side effects from having been in a coma and transfigured by Mahito.

The timing is just way off. We got two very emotional chapters where both Yuuji and Megumi showed immense personal growth and Megumi just regained his will to live and fight back. Only for Nobara to come in like "lmao why the long faces guys xD" (which only Utahime and Gakuganji are there to hear, who I assume really couldn't care less). This just didn't feel like the right place or time to pull that moment. Yuuji's reveal that he was alive happened in a low-stakes situation where jokes are to be expected and he also did it right in front of the people who mattered. It was set up as comedic. He didn't butt into an emotional moment.

And then there's the problem that Nobara has just been far left behind by the story at this point. She has no personal involvement with Sukuna. Sure, she wants to protect her friends from him, but that is nothing compared to the relationship Yuuji and Megumi have with him. They are all three deeply connected and Nobara is an outsider here. I don't think Nobara and Sukuna ever even met. Kusakabe is more connected to Sukuna than her. There isn't much she contributes in terms of themes, world building or powers either. And there's no time anymore for all that to get established because Sukuna will likely die/be sealed next chapter or the one after and the whole series ends in 4 chapters.

Maybe the next chapter will tie the tonal whiplash between last chapter and this one better together, but that doesn't change the fact that Nobara's character is too underdeveloped to have much of an impact at this point. It still feels like she's simply there to complete the trio and Gege doesn't quite know what to do with her.

[shoyoackerman]

SPIDER-MAN ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE SPOILERS!!

I WATCHED THE NEW SPIDER-MAN AND GOD I LOVED IT. I saw it 4dx and ooft was absolutely thrown around, got whiplash, got a migraine but worth it all bc that shit was amazing.

I really loved Spot he was so goofy and babygirl and then he had to go and try and kill Miles dad 😔

OH AND OF COURSE MILES HE LOOKS SO COOL AND GOOD. Loved him so much, looks much mature lmao than the first one.

AND HOBIE BROWN AKA SPIDERPUNK LOVE HIM SO MICH, HES MY FAVOURITE FRFR. He’s so cool and his accent god love his accent.

Him and miles are actually adorable I loved how much Miles thought how cool he was. (Plus kinda lowkey ship them 👩🏾‍🦽) and I also definitely thought of Hoseok when I heard hobi in the movies.

AND MIGUEL BRO WAS ON DEMON TIME AFTER MILES GAWDAMN. Liek leave bro alone 😭 he just tryin save his father, FUCK CANON WE CAN DO FANFICTION OKAY MIGUEL ILL WRITE YOU BACK WITH YOUR FAMILY OKAY. Still hot tho, it’s okay Miguel we can create a new family together pookie 🫶🏽🤧 I’ll make the sacrifice for Miles <3

Pavitr. Oh Pavitr my love, LOVED HIM. LOVED THE REP. LOVED HIS ENERGY. I want more of him, better see more of him in the third movie.

Also pls help yall, I’m actually dumb asf bc I was expecting this to be the last and I was so confused as to how they finna wrap up the ending. Was GOBSMACKED, FLABBERGASTED WHEN THE “to be continued” came back 💀⁉️ DUMB AS HELL.

AND THE ENDING THE ENDING HELLO I WAS NOT EXPECTING ANY OF THAT. NONE OF IT AT ALL. LIKE MILES SENT BACK TO THE WRONG UNIVERSE, SEEING UNCLE AARON AND THEN HIM?!? MILES MORALES OF THAT EARTH.

AND HIM BEING THE PROWLER 😟 actually loved that plot twist. And gawdamn his braids? He looked hella nice with them, suited him well.

anyway, I’m obsessed and I’m gonna stay fixated on this for a long time. Definitely wanna see it again not in 4dx and actually sit and hear what’s happening. (Ngl I was like unable to understand half the shit being said, I genuinely need subtitles)

[yuwumeniji]

Luxiem as Dating Sim Characters

I... I like you!

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

A/N: Yes.... MERGE ALL OF YOUR INTERESTS TOGETHER (my thought process when creating this side blog lol). There are some references to otome games I've played, I wonder if you can find them all ;;

BTW... requests are open, feel free to brainrot with me too ^^

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

GENERAL NOTES

All livers will be parts of different games (vaguely putting that way that is lmao)

I will be making references to games that I've played personally!

IKE EVELAND

The sweet boy-next-door from a Slice Of Life otome game!

Childhood bestie??? OFC????

I can picture him being one of the love interests in a school-based otome game with him being either a senpai or someone of the same age

The type of route to be underrated, but have a dedicated portion of the fanbase

He's got lots of cute CG where you and him are studying together,, having cute after-school dates,, etc.

He also has a little bit of a mean streak... very well known to be very hot/cold with the MC, and can be quite the tease especially during the lovers portion of the route, but the gap moe.... oh my god

His route is like... pure fluff and maybe sometimes that is all we need

His routes consist of a Lover's ending & Friendship ending. Because of the light-heartedness of the game he is from, there are no bad endings (unless you consider being friendzone'd a bad ending lmao)

"Y/N, you silly goose! Well... if you give me a kiss, I could show you how to solve that equation!"

LUCA KANESHIRO

The flirty playboy who actually has a heart of gold! Most likely from an action-drama otome game

Additionally,, he keeps his mafia boss title and you? his one and only journalist!

He meets you while you were on the hunt for some details about the Kaneshiro family for an article and decided to play the role of an unsuspecting passerby who has interest in the family as well!

During his route, he reveals that he intentionally joined us on our sleuthing adventure in order to stamp out the corruption that ran within the Kaneshiro mafia family. He wants the family to have as clean of a name as a mafia family could get - I mean, he eventually reveals himself as the heir!

A route full of action! adventure! crime committing! and to no one's shock - kinda steamy!

There is literally no inbetween for this man and he gives every player whiplash - from his innocent flirting with the MC that makes you giggle and swing your feet to him introducing to the MC what an "adult kiss" is (flushge!!)

A noire-esque type route where you and Luca play cat and mouse - you want to catch Luca for an article, Luca somehow evades you even when he was just arms reach away.

I want one CG where you're patching his wounds up and he's playfully teasing you like

"LUCA !!! YOU LITERALLY ALMOST DIED!!!"

"And? Did you see the look on that officer's fac- ARGH?! Be careful with that one!"

His route ends with a Lover's ending & Bad ending. His bad ending ends with either him dying after getting caught within some internal strife with the family OR he gets captured while trying to evade law enforcement (and you were the one who betrays him)

His lover's ending ends with you being the Bonnie to his Clyde, you eventually join him as his right hand man! (or woman?)

MYSTA RIAS

The prince who just wanted to have fun, fell in love with a commoner. Probably from a historical title with no basis in actual history/vaguely has a place in history.

Surprisingly bittersweet and well written - most fans who see him in the common route would think his route would be the most light-hearted out of the bunch, but the forbidden romance between a commoner and a prince is kinda... you know ;;

I still would like to think he has a relatively light-hearted route despite the bittersweet elements to it lmao

He's literally just some silly guy free him from the palace

He actually spends a lot of the route guarded against the MC despite his displays of affection due to his disposition as someone with higher power than you.

A lot of tear-jerking scenes and a lot of close calls with getting caught before his coronation day.

His confession scene was the most memorable visually. The moon shining on his face as you two sat beside each other in the royal garden after splashing around in the fountains. Instead of the jovial expression he normally has on, his face was stern and serious as he declares his love for the MC

Also full of the cheesiest otome lines known to man

"Even if the world is against you and I, then so be it. I would choose you no matter what."

"As the heir to the next throne, I can promise you the entire world if I have to."

The whiplash between his silly antics and the way he confesses his love to the MC is what made the game's fans go crazy

His route ends with the most bad endings - One where you get thrown in the dungeon, one where you could be executed as someone who usurped the king, one where he breaks off his engagement with you, etc. Just know it's bad all round LMAO

His lover's ending ends with you marrying him and him succeeding the throne. It's a very cheesy end, but according to players, one of the best endings in the entire game.

SHU YAMINO

A dramatic and mystical being from a fantasy/slice of life otome game! I specifically need him to be a character that jokes about being the world's "final boss" while being a cafe regular at the place you work at.

It's got quite the modern feel in contrast to the vintage cafe setting

The game begins as normal, with a few incidents that eventually reveal the true nature the very magical nature of the regulars you usually serve, with Shu being considered the game's "final, true ending"

The kind to order sweet menu items because you suggested it and he actually would rather rave more savoury items.

His route consists of everyday chats; to many that find him in the common routes, shu seems to be the most normal route in comparison to the wacky mythical beings in the game, but dear lord are we in for an angsty rollercoaster

"Y/N?? What are you doing here in this *very obviously* dangerous place!!"

"I came here to get- wait,you're the one from the cafe?!"

He has broken the 4th wall at least once in his route and he doesn't have a lot of fanservice scenes outside of that (the fandom is coping so hard. me, im the fandom)

His route ultimately has 2 endings - True Ending & Lover's Ending

OFC HIS ROMANTIC ENDING IS ONE OF THE HARDEST TO ACHIEVE LMFAO - only occurs if you max out the entire game: collecting all endings for all characters AND if you can max out his romance meter within a certain time frame

The true ending is well.... the truest ending of the game (since I'm trying to vaguely write about whatever this game is, I won't give a proper like... fleshed out ending lmao)

obvs the true ending doesn't sit well with fans and they only accept the Lover's end as the true ending of his route lmao (copium)

VOX AKUMA

An assassin or an army general from a japanese-historical otome game!

He's on a quest to defeat a corrupted shogunate and he stumbled across you while finding a village to retreat to. More specifically, a hidden ninja village in the remote mountains south of the capital (or something like that, i'm not very big on geography or history, but like, picture it lmao)

You were the one to find him bleeding on the ground and, to no surprise, the one who nursed him back to health.

Despite his quest to defeat the leader, he took a liking to you and spends his entire route trying to convince you to join his journey.

You can join him or not join him - but not joining him leads you right into an immediate game over lol

"Do you want to train today? Or perhaps, shall we talk a walk around the village?"

THE BIGGEST MOST FLIRTIEST OTOME GAME CHARACTER EVER . severe whiplash to fans who expected this game to be serious and less of an otome , more of a joseimuke title

He has a number of bad endings - one where he couldn't take you with him, one that ends with him getting assassinated and one that ends with him failing his mission.

Luckily for you - he has one of the most romantic Lover's ending that eventually ends with an epilogue where you both settle down in the hidden ninja village again, living peacefully despite being outlaws LOL

[marshmellopie]

YOU THERE

Give me your spamton headcanons! Any kind!

loki i love you so much you don't know how much i've been wanting to share my headcanons oh my GOD [scans over my 20+ page headcanon doc]

putting it under the cut because it's a lot of random stuff, i didn't categorize anything so there might be whiplash between everything:

– Five feet tall, previously 5'10 when he was still an Addison. I made Puppet Spam was 4'5 for the longest time, but I decided to say fuck it and make him taller. Still short in terms of Cyber City residents though, I like to imagine normal Addisons are around 6ft.

– I sometimes forget to draw it and I can't really animate it consistently, but his knuckles are constantly bruised because he keeps punching things whenever he's angry. Experiences really severe temper tantrums/outbursts and usually resorts to violence.

– Do not touch his fucking hair if he doesn’t know you. He’ll legitimately plan your murder if you cut any of it off– and that’s not a hyperbole. He can’t grow it back and his hair is his pride and joy, so he will genuinely track you down and rip your goddamn soul out of your chest. It's also permanently black (besides the grey but that's from stress), he changed his coding when he was famous to have black hair. Could've been reversible, but some things kinda stuck after he fucked himself up and became a doll.

– Weird mixture of Addison and mannequin. Mysteriously fell incredibly ill with a virus that was destroying his coding after his phone went dead silent, and became desperate to the point of converting his remaining data into an inanimate object. Kind of like converting a PDF into a JPEG with the compressed quality and all. Kinda iffy with this one and not really canon-inspired, I swap between him gradually and suddenly turning into a puppet. Used to base it off the Acid Theory but I'm tryna be creative sjfkdsjf he did probably fall in/get pushed a few times but it didn't burn him to the point of no return, it definitely stung though

– Blurry vision in both eyes because he had the audacity to peek into the Shadow Crystal multiple times. Hacked his glasses to somewhat correct it, but it only works to a certain extent.

– Talks through a voice box. He really doesn't need to move his mouth at all to speak and has limited range of motion (he can't close his mouth all the way and has no tongue), but he tries to purely out of habit.

– gayest man in cyber city

– Eats basically anything. From spaghetti-code to cardboard, his body is kind of forced to digest all of it, but it obviously hurts him if it's not supposed to be eaten.

– Sometimes doesn't recognize his own reflection.

– Riddled with viruses for so long that he probably wouldn't ever be able to get rid of them. He could probably minimize them if he got treatment, but only to an extent. They're a permanent part of him now.

– His nose is simultaneously the strongest and weakest part of his body. Either pierces through metal or bends like a bendy straw depending on if you throw him or just lightly poke it.

– Terrifyingly amazing aim. Can throw a pipis at a specific target without much thought. His pipis explode.

– Calmed down a bit as the years went on (because he lost hope LMAO), which isn't saying much considering he's still extremely rabid. Was extremely volatile when he first decided to give up the good life and live in the dumpster. Frequently tried to break into the mansion, probably stole a few cars, mugged a few Plugboys, picked fights with other malware on the streets. He still continues to do these things, of course, but to a lesser degree.

– Spiteful cunt. Wrong him once and he'll never forget your name. Rarely apologizes even if he's in the wrong.

– Can't say names properly unless he's being completely serious.

– Upholds his end of most deals, but words himself carefully so that if what he has to bring to the table isn't up to par with what the other person asked of him (which is 99% of the time), he can easily swindle his way out of it. No refunds on the sword. It's broken? I told you that. Cut anything, two pieces. You heard me clearly, and you obviously had no qualms with it from what I could tell. (Except he'd say that in a really fucked up and more condescending way.)

– Constantly hears static, but it grows and fades depending on his mood.

– Laughs at the most inconvenient times. Someone's threatening him? He'll chuckle. He's nervous? A little giggle. He just received some devastating news? Roaring laughter.

– Very unreliable narrator and storyteller. Tends to exaggerate things that have happened to him (doesn't mean that he didn't go through some wild shit though).

– Doesn't celebrate his birthday, for obvious loneliness and conflicting self-resentment reasons. Also because he doesn't keep track of the time. He don't know what day it is fam.

– Can mimic voices really well, though he still retains that bitcrushed/noisy overlay and the ad pop-ups.

– Tends to chew on things occasionally as a nervous habit. He doesn't exactly have a tongue, so he instead picks up random small items scattered around (ie. a pencil) and chews on them. Worst case scenario he just grinds his teeth together.

– Gestures with his hands a lot when he speaks. It literally looks like he's going through an emote hotbar. Also very expressive when it comes to his face, despite rarely being able to frown properly. You can garner a lot about his mood from his glasses.

– Mostly bark over bite. Tends to make empty threats a lot when he's startled in hopes his loudness will be intimidating, but will indeed bite if he needs to… or wants to. Sometimes there’s no bark at all, and he’ll literally bite.

– Has a weird fascination with shiny objects. He steals many things that seem valuable or visually appealing and hoards them in his shop.

– Once you put the KEYGEN into NEO, it takes a little bit for him to actually take over the body because he's transferring his data onto it. Permanently. Even when he becomes small Spamton again, he's permanently linked to the machine now, so he can change into it at will. Technically not at will because he has trouble controlling it, but you get what I mean.

this was insanely long but thank you for letting me ramble <3

[sunflowerdigs]

Lmao, reading the Buddie tag rn is giving me such whiplash. "I believe fully that Buddie is going canon" "buddie is definitely not going canon". It seems like people got a lot of different things out of the recent promo.

I haven't seen all of it, but I did read the "Buddie" articles and the interviews with both Oliver and Ryan. I admit, Ryan's interview cooled my Buddie expectations considerably, not because of anything he said about Marisol (that part actually made me think that he and Marisol are very likely not endgame) but because of the part about portraying a "strong male friendship" (I hate that phrase when it's brought up in the periphery of shipping) being the most important thing. I don't know that he would have emphasized that as much if they were going canon as quickly as I was hoping.

Oliver's interview has all but confirmed bi Buck for me. What I will say - it would be foolish for the show to expect Buddie fans to be happy about Buck ending up with anyone but Eddie. That isn't an expectation placed on any other shipper group and it shouldn't be placed on queer fans, even if Buck's endgame partner is a man. It's absolutely ok for fans to feel some gratefulness for the rep, but to also be very frustrated by not getting the love story.

That said, Ryan commenting about Eddie "living in the moment" rather than commenting about how much Eddie loves Marisol or about how great their chemistry is or how good she is with Christopher or something along those lines makes me think that it's not endgame, that something (someone) else comes up at some point for Eddie, likely while the relationship is still happening. Imo, it's been emphasized by both Oliver and Ryan that both Eddie and Buck are in the best place mentally and emotionally that they've been in on the show, so, if Buddie is going to happen, this would be the time to start down the path. They're both "ready". If it's going to happen, I still think we'll get a feelings realization from both of them this season, but that they possibly won't confront each other about those feelings until next season. Idk. I'm still torn between whether they'll actually give Buck another love interest (Tommy has been brought up as a possibility) or just have him straight up realize his feelings for Eddie and struggle with Eddie's relationship with Marisol. I feel like it could go either way.

[mossy-rainfrog]

hello everyone, I made a series of doodles to put inside of my copy of MobyDick and I would like to share them :3 pls enjoy:

[ID: Two traditional drawings. Ahab shows off his new pegleg with a flourish. Ishmael infodumps about whales to a fond Queequeg. End ID.] [More detailed ID in ALT.]

New Leg Goofin is for chapters 108-9, when Ahab gets fitted with his new leg! it's right before a super devastating chapter so i needed to make myself laugh lmao

Wikipedia Page About Every Whale is for the whole goddamn book, honestly, but I chose to put it at the beginning of ch.32, Cetology, where Ishmael really does try to explain every whale ever

[ID: A comic of Stubb and Flask bursting into Ahab's quarters, thinking the Captain is in danger, only to find Ahab and Fedallah playing a game of cards. End ID.] [More detailed ID in ALT.]

This gem belongs to p.344 where Stubb wonders if Fedallah means to kidnap Ahab, which was such a baffling ridiculous concept that I couldn't help but make fun of it. literally Ahab snuck this man on board bro, what the fuck is fedallah going to do to him. they're playing uno. shut up

[ID: Two drawings, with the first showing Pip after being cast away, haunted and alone on the deck of the Pequod. The other shows Ishmael and Queequeg homoerotically grasping hands while processing whale sperm. End ID.] [More detailed ID in ALT.]

this goes out to chapters 93-95, because the UNREAL whiplash from "a child was just abandoned at sea" to "hey let's be horny about whale sperm" is still the most insane transition of all time. Ish, what the fuck

[ID: A simply doodled meme diagram for how to greet a fellow amputee. The "wrong" answer shows Captains Ahab and Boomer shaking hands, while the "right" answers show Ahab in a handstand and then kicking his leg up high, both times to cross his prosthetic with Boomer's. End ID.] [More detailed ID in ALT.]

this goes out to p. 454. every interaction between these two absolutely delighted me but my mental image for the specific line about them "crossing ivory limbs" got. very silly.

[ID: A small comic of Ahab asking the Harpooners to give him blood to temper his harpoon in. They stare back at him with varying expressions of confused, uncomfortable disbelief. End ID.]

the last one, for p.504. yknow that feel when your boss just walks up and asks you to bleed on his custom made harpoon??? yeah uh. normal workday things

anyways thank you for reading, I had a delightful time making these and am so very fond of them all, so yea :3

credit as always for the designs goes to the darling @pocketsizedquasar , as well as credit for pricelessly annotating my copy of MD and thus getting me to actually read it, love youuuu💙💙

[quietbluejay]

The Buried Dagger 1

OKAY mortarion time ….i forgot this was the book with purple prose and i had to go back in terror to make sure I didn't accidentally buy a McNeill novel again i did not, this is thankfully (?) someone else

I'm trying to figure out what about this pushes it into "Wow Edgy" rather than being genuinely compelling well actually this isn't too bad, to be honest, it's really the next bit which is that the population of ynyx (and WHAT a name) doesn't have mouths "the cold ember of his familiar, obdurate resentment" I feel like I'm being unfair to the book by feeling bathos instead of pathos but i think it's that everything is so over the top

wait what year was this written Mortarion is literally breathing in the chemicals 2019 I'm now going to suffer from the belief that the writer of this was listening to Radioactive (due to this plus some other things) and now I've got it stuck in my head

i want to take this seriously but i just can't, I'm sorry no one understands meeeeeeeee owo uncomfortable memory surfaces

i will say this, the prose is quite evocative

ok so mort has a giant chip on his shoulder and is an enormous misanthrope but just about every single person who has ever been in a position of authority over him DOES just use him as a tool

boy did he choose the wrong side of the war

tumblr has poisoned my mind regarding "the horrors" so it feels like "every day mortarion gets emails" mortarion: hm maybe i should get rid of the daemon and also all the stuff i used to summon him and go back to normal warfare

holy shit holy shit he really is his father's son also hey uhhh mortarion do you remember that whole slippery slope speech you gave at Nikaea about literally this exact topic

the irony is killing me you're killing me, Reaper of Men, and I'm not even a man the manreaper of….justice (????) is unisex oh yeah i forgot to bring it up but Mort calling Magnus an "arrogant braggant" fills my salty soul with glee

morty continues to try out for that fantasy villain role i think i'm warming up to the prose though

im breathing in the chemicals- im breathing in the chemicals- im breathing in the chemicals-

i think swallow's cd kept skipping while he wrote this

this is the third time he's breathed in the chemicals

it's totally not a ritual, honest! okay, this is a cool fight scene mortarion can be cool in a fight, as a treat

lmao

yes. this is funny to me. Mortarion is just so done with this whole thing Mort: why did i get sent on this sidequest rip typhon killstealing

mortarion would really like to be starring in a different genre oh no cursed idea my thought was "what genre would be funniest to put him in" which was followed by "this is our get-along harem protagonist" but it's mort and rob idk at the end of godblight they got yeeted my next thought was magical girl anime he's the dark magical girl's mascot creature he is having friendship! just hdu call him and the magical girl friends

typhon plotting out how to ambush mortarion with a hug

uhhhhhh

typhon: yeahhhh better not bring up the Fallen honestly typhon feels like one of the most intelligent characters in the series! ….huh why weren't the dark angels at Terra

dude and then typhon internally cackles evilly like a kids show villain everything is going according to keikaku does your brain on nurgle turn you into snidely whiplash?

Mortarion what the heck

normal behaviour to go along with the poison drinking or breathing in the chemicals and breathing in the chemicals- and breathing in the okay i'll stop

literally everyone on the ship is choking but typhon that was fast owo flashback time

okay so his evil dad (the first one) sent him out with golems to fight other golem things from other evil overlords as a test of some kind this is just his entire life, huh

oh lovely like wow the only reason mortarion's alive is that he's a primarch the abuse is kind of getting to ridiculous angst-fic levels and yet the way it's written is genuinely compelling? probably because he's not actually a normal human so it is survivable and not ridiculous but it is kind of walking on that line thrown to starving dogs when he was a toddler like

this really is his entire life huh

annnnd also Necare experimented on him with poison what next did necare give him a dog and then kill the dog in front of him we're starting to get into bathos here

the last bit of this scene is, yeahh

a bit. on the overwrought side.

The book is tap dancing on the line which is to be honest, making me sad i really want this to be good :/

if it's going to go all the way into goofy, i want it to go all the way so i can mock it if it's going to be half hard hitting and half goofy it feels like im pulling back to punch a small child this book also unfortunately has some kind of subplot on earth with a bunch of rando characters and also, unfortunately, Garro

oh this is i guess foreshadowing for what's going to happen to the death guard? so garro's friend got hit by an evil knife and unlike guilliman he did not have plot armour

so garro is working with a bunch of other dudes who defected from the traitor legions secretly working for malcador oh, and a psyker ultramarine

oh wait psyker ultramarine met garro on calth??? what??? how did he get to calth and back what is a timeline (i should be fair and stop banging on about this since i have not actually read the relevant books. at least I assume this has to be covered in a book I didn't read)

oh yeah sure let's undress the catatonic chained up woman oh she's a sister of silence my beloved

okay so context she had her name and serial number tattooed under her collarbone so. i guess that was more important??? apparently??? they did not take off the chains they just snapped them off of the wall and basically pushed her to start walking you couldn't just. pick her up??? wouldn't that be faster?? okay this was funny malcador sends an illusion of himself across the planet

I'm rolling my eyes

this is the guy running the imperium

does he have nothing better to do also why give them the job in the first place if he's not going to trust them not to "creatively reinterpret" his commands

oh we're back with Teen Mort and he keeps a diary ohhh a bunch of humans are rebelling and attacking

oh it's Teen Typhon meeting Teen Mort

psychic powers time

this is not the time to get angsty also he is kind of a grimdark rapunzel huh

back in the present and apparently mort broods a lot in his room and if you interrupt him he yells at you because of course he does you're interrupting his linkin park listening bluejay note: i love linkin park so i am allowed to make this joke annnd typhon is setting up the navigators on the ship to take the blame oh he just killed them all that was fast and now they're all trapped blind in the warp and typhon is being obviously evil and according to keikaku which is visible to everyone but Mort well tbf to Mort, he's very angry at Typhon for killing the navigators so he's probably missing stuff

typhon: this lifeboat is full of leeches just trust me typhon: throws it overboard

back in the past, Mort successfully rescues the spunky teens but his dad is coming so he tells them to get out while they can and then has his disney princess song realization that it's time to stand up for himself and he'd do it all again! and face his dad! and dieeeee okay the last bit isn't disney princess …ah

ah mort: wait, that's an option??? rip his hair is getting in his eyes i hate when that happens

okay this is a cheesy line but it's working here

okay i made the joke before about mortarion being the kind of guy who likes to stand on cliffs/balcony edges and look down but i DIDNT KNOW IT WAS LITERALY DONT STARE INTO THE WARP YOU IDIOT

i. oh boy we get to see an emperor-mort interaction

i think the emperor is….actually trying here? but what the emperor is trying to say here is not what mort took from it

[imaginespazzi]

NIVI, bestie, the first chapter of Golden Hour (peep me using the actual title!) – fucking spectacular. You know the UCLA fic will live on in my mind forever and it will always have a special place in my heart, but this might give it a run for its money already. Just something about kid fics, it’s just too damn endearing!

Firstly, when you use My Immortal as the song reference, you already know it’s gonna have you in your feels haha. Immaculate song choice btw.

LOL at the shade Indy’s still copping 9 years on. Also, I had a slight jump scare realising that Paige had been at the Wings all this time (@ irl universe, that was simply for the plot, not a manifestation).

DUDE, I just know every scene with Stephie is gonna hit, like ugh it’s all so adorable!! Stephie being just as indecisive as her mother, I would expect nothing less from Azzi’s mini-me. Also, picturing Azzi with kids is just so 😍🥰 I could feel my heart melt throughout their entire scene together.

Manager! Colleen, we love this, truly par for the course. Also, Colleen tryna keep up with the spelling was so real of her, SAME babes.

Ahhhh JANA! I was wondering which menace would be burdened with having to deal with the two idiots! Side note: This just made me even more excited for this big 3 this coming season (it’s what we deserve after being robbed of our other big 3).

The Paige and Stephie scene man, immediately in my top 5 out of all the scenes you’ve ever written.

She really got Paige with the “but you’re not a stranger” huh.

And when she just casually climbs on to Paige’s lap and made sure she got her kisses! P absolutely stood no chance against this kid, she’s stuck at GSV forever now.

The instant bond and attachment they have to each other - ugh I love them so bad already - they’re gonna be such a handful for Azzi to deal with.

Flashback scenes always get me, I may or may not have teared up at this scene, just seeing how in love they were and them thinking they’d be that simple forever, knowing the train derailed somewhere along the way. Heartbreaking.

Jana staying true to her menace roots by putting her foot in her mouth lmao. Also, “children of divorce” lines are always some of my favourites haha, I just know the menaces still have regular group therapy sessions about how mom & dad’s divorce traumatised them cause like is love even real at that point? 😔.

The whole exchange between Paige and Azzi was like whiplash, in the best way, between the banter and how they really feel.

And the last lines – it wouldn’t be you if there wasn’t a perfect full circle/callback moment.

What’s next? (maybe)

The “one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve” really got me thinking about how exactly their mutual web was splintered and just how much their breakup affected everyone around them.

I’m also excited to find out who their other teammates are lol.

Can’t wait for the first time that Stephie brings up “Miss Buecks” with Azzi.

I’m also imagining Stephie having a pre-game handshake/ritual with Azzi and then her making one up for her and P 🥹

Most of all, I’m so sat to find out about the breakup, like I need all the details immediately and what happened that “last time”.

Oh and will there be a reveal of how Stephie was conceived?? Although, I’m guessing by the “because Stephie is all Azzi’s” that the other parent is definitely out of the picture?

And before I forget, the title art? header? ate that up once again (I see what you did making it purple)! The tagline too. I mean, you know i'm still partial to the "everything changes, except the ending" cause that really was *chef's kiss* but this was too!

Favourite line/quote:

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other.

You’re an absolute legend as always, bestie! Can’t wait for the next one 💗

-🙋‍♀️

AHHH BESTIE I was waiting for your review cause like you're lowkey one of my favorite parts of the writing process now so just by that logic you're never allowed to fully leave this app tee hee.

AH I WAS HOPING YOU'D KNOW IT! It just fit really well.

Sorry not sorry Indiana you're just never ending up in my good books and I have no faith in that organization to not still be a cesspool years from now. DALLAS WINGS THIS IS NOT MANIFESTATION PLEASE LOOK AWAY!

Azzi as a girl mom is so self-indulgent like I just know she's meant to be one and would be so amazing so like this fic really is just me vicariously imagining it.

Lmao I had to have Colleen. She was there the first time, it's only fair she has to deal with them again the second time. Without anything to back it up, I also lowkey could see this in real life.

I thought about it for a fair bit but Jana ultimately made the most sense but the other menaces will make an appearance at some point for sure!

The Paige and Stephie scene was one of my favorite scenes to write and again so self-indulgent because I live and die for soft!Paige and especially that with kids? Yeah, I really did that for me lmao.

Yeah there is not Paige Bueckers anymore only Stephie's Ms. Bueckers and they're only about to get more and more attached (until I ruin it? MWAHAHA maybe)

I think I've used that children of divorce line in mutiple fics but ah well it's not like I can plagiarize myself lmao

You know me too well babes. I love my full circle moments, even though this one actually wasn't intentional until the very last line.

I know UCLA was very Pazzi centered but I'm actually really excited to get into other relationships in this fic as well and that line *whispers* was definitely foreshadowing.

I lowkey have no idea what other teammates to give them so that should be fun coming up with a team lmao

WAIT THAT'S SUCH A GOOD IDEA I'M STEALING IT LMAO

Is the "last time" a reference to the actual breakup or something more recent? Hmmm guess we'll find out (and I do mean we cause I haven't decided lmao)

That really is the question of the century huh? But yes, while it lowkey would've been fun (and easy) to never go into that, the mystery of Stephie's conception will be revealed in due time.

AHH THANK YOU! I'm not the greatest editor but I do really enjoy making covers like this so it means a lot that you liked it.

Love you babes, I'm so glad you're along for the ride again <3

[marley-manson]

Okay I caved I'm watching season 1 because I skipped it this rewatch bc I already rewatched most of it a couple years ago, but yk, a couple years isn't this month and I want more Xena so

Sins of the Past is a great opener overall. Gab is so cute and fun lol, I love her fast talking. It's whiplash seeing baby Gab right after season 6 but it really hits you over the head with how much she develops, and I love it. "I want you to teach me everything you know," just hits after seeing her catch the chakram at the end of the show.

Draco's a solid character in this ep. The way he instantly grabs a sword with a sudden look of fear when he hears Xena's voice, after a scene featuring him being super badass, is a very satisfying way of illustrating Xena's abilities and reputation.

tbh I think both his subsequent episodes are big downgrades for him, he's a great villain in this one - a foil to Xena wrt their attitudes to their own evil pasts, with moments where we sympathize with him, a fun attitude wrt wanting to either hook up with or fight Xena, and I love him keeping his word at the end when he kills the dude who was about to knife Xena in the back, that's one of my favourite brands of villain writing.

The contrast between Xena despondent and reflecting on her evil past, burying her weapons and behaving either passively or potentially actively suicidal depending on how you interpret that first scene, and Xena then fighting Draco's men with a big grin and laughter, is absolutely perfect. That's what she was made for, that's what brings her joy and fulfillment, and the fact that this show is about celebrating that rather than condemning it as a character flaw is ultimately my favourite thing about X:WP, even moreso than the gay romance.

And of course, Xena/Gab starts off adorably. I love Gabrielle's bold gregariousness so much. She knows what she wants, and she makes it happen. And the baby gay vibes were so strong it's hard to believe they weren't intentional from the very beginning honestly. I don't belong here, I'm not like the other girls, I'm not who my parents wanted me to be, I don't want to marry Perdicus I want to join Xena... girl.

All that said, lmao @ the ridiculous ADR in this episode. Sounds like someone from the crew had to step in and awkwardly voice 'man from the crowd' at the last minute. Honestly it's endearing <3

[death-in-a-handbasket]

Ooh on the topic of drinking !!

What would Ayatsuji's favorite drink(s) be? Is he a fruity margarita guy or straight vodka

And any other characters you have in mind I love reading your thoughts!!

OOOH OKAY OKAY.

Yukito: liquor and whiskey. more on the sweet side than not but it def burns, takes a bit for him to get drunk but when he does it is the most vulnerable state you’ll ever see him in, doesn’t drink often but might indulge if there’s something worth celebrating, a lot of his alcohol he has on hand ends up as a cooking ingredient

Tsujimura: likes a good tasty martini but prefers harder drinks because she wants to be badass like all the spy women in her favorite works, can both settle down with a good beer and also do straight vodka if she’s feeling bold (relatively low alcohol tolerance though and passes out after the latter) drinks after work sometimes with coworkers from the special division

Ango: mellow drinker, starts off with whiskey and sips it throughout the night, too responsible most of the time to drink past slightly tipsy, his body is mostly comprised of caffeine instead, might put a little alcohol in the coffee to take the edge off sometimes (only if the day is going really bad and it doesn’t work tbh)

Nikolai: could drink paint thinner if he wanted to (he has) gets rowdier and slightly more emotion when drunk but can somehow still function impeccably well even when plastered, he’s just deeply more chaotic LMAO, probably drinks vodka cut with the fruitiest mix on planet earth because this man likes pizazz, alcohol tolerance so deranged no one is sure if can actually die from alcohol poisoning

Fyodor: doesn’t drink often because he doesn’t want it to impair his mind plus he’s anemic and like 7 pounds soaking wet, it goes right through him like water so he’s fairly lightweight, but if need be he’ll sip on a little vodka throughout a night and go nap after he’s done

Fukuchi: could down a barrel of sake like a boss but the minute he gets drunk old man peepaw is a damn party animal, drinks socially and for sport but it bites him in the ass every time though we know this man gets WHIPLASH fuckin hangovers

Bram: doesn’t want alcohol but doesn’t dislike it either, cannot get drunk by any stretch, mostly just samples shit from time to time for the flavor

Sigma: liquor and wine boy, prefers not to drink but will do it for show while at the casino, can hold his alcohol but prefers not to go past tipsy, a moderate and chill man

Teruko: can outdrink Fukuchi and remain fully lucid on command. everyone is scared of her

Jouno: not much of an alcohol man, will sample a little sake but he doesn’t especially care for it plus his tolerance is super high, passes on drinks most times

Tecchou: can drink his weight in alcohol, has a preference for beer and sake, but instead of getting rowdy in any way he just takes a nap directly afterwards and wakes up normal the next morning with no hangover, no one is quite sure how he does it

Tachihara: more likely to go out drinking with the pm than the hunting dogs, will drink the fancy stuff if need be but he’s a beer man at heart, you can take the scruff off this boy but it’s still there in his heart, slow drinker but once he gets going he’s super happy and rowdy as shit, not immune to doing shots, helps balance out Chuuya’s bitchiness at times

Hirotsu: old fashioned whiskey man, sips on it throughout the night but never gets drunk, the most sober man drinking in the bar tbh, mostly does it to relax, the guy there to keep Chuuya from being a total dick

Chuuya: a wine guy as we all know, starts out slow and savoring it but then gets emotional and pissy and start downing the damn glass, prone to being an angry drunk and yelling like a little bitch before getting shepherded home

Mori: has seen his fair share of alcohols in his time but prefers to remain sober

Verlaine: likes white wine and vodka, also gets angry tipsy and will judge the quality like a megacunt, no one likes to drink with him

Ranpo: prefers not to drink as he despises most alcohol tastes but can be persuaded into amaretto with how much it tastes like candy, gets loud and affectionate when drunk, will call you an idiot and pass out on your arm

Dazai: will try and drink any and every alcohol, can remain entirely lucid no matter what he’s ingested but he loves acting drunk and passing out anyways for the experience and also to be inconvenient for some people (Kunikida)

Fukuzawa: sake enjoyer, doesn’t drink often but drinks slow and steady, high alcohol tolerance, rarely gets drunk

Yosano: wine lover, gets loud and rowdy when drunk, is a social drinker but also samples different kinds of wine in her free time just to judge the flavors

Higuchi: doesn’t drink often but might mellow out and get sad over a beer or whiskey

Oda: drinks slowly and methodically throughout the night, also a beer or whiskey man, prefers to mostly take in the ambiance of the bar than the experience of the alcohol, might get buzzed but hasn’t taken it much further than there

Francis: drinks socially and mostly champagne, gets more energetic and egotistical the more alcohol enters his body, will spend money on progressively stupider shit as the event goes on because he has no sense of consequences while drunk

Sober gang:

Atsushi: low alcohol tolerance and lowkey kind of scared

Akutagawa: he coughs every time because it burns his throat, could have a decent alcohol tolerance if he wanted to but his body can’t take it

Mushitarou: despises being drunk and hates the taste

Poe: too scared to do it

Nathanial: to religious to do it

Gin: not really her thing

Lucy: could hold her own if she wanted to but she hates the way alcohol makes people act and prefers to pass on it

Kunikida: designated driver and wouldn’t touch alcohol because it violates his ideals

Tanizaki: also too scared to do it but if Naomi was allowed she’d get tipsy for fun

Lovecraft: alcohol has net zero effect on him so he simply Doesn’t

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THIS WAS SO FUN y’all feel free to request any of your faves I forgot 🙏