#checked and was like that cannot be right

[all-with-angel]

↳˳ ❝LOVEGAME ᵕ̈೫˚∗

❥ DEFECTED!Satosugu x reader || LEVEL 1 : Game start!

❥ In which you act as a double spy for Jujutsu Tech to finally take down and kill Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. Can you fulfill your mission?

❥ gn!reader, angst, fluff for now, crack, they're kinda down bad, scratch that they're REALLY down bad, suggestive, plot, non-canon compliant, yearning, yandere-ish, more warnings tba!

♡ Taglist is open! Comment under here to be added!

<- BACK TO MAIN MENU || LOADING COMPLETE! START GAME!

When you decided to knock on this temple’s doorstep looking like a kicked puppy, you didn't expect this.

You expected yelling, to have the door shut in your face and be turned away by the two people who you once loved so dearly or in the worst case scenario— be killed right then and there. A blotched red stain on the tatami mats or maybe even eaten whole by one of Suguru’s curses.

In the best case scenario, maybe they’d let you join them. Be under constant supervision— under suspicion or go through some sort of painful hazing. Torture or some sort of sick ritual with a sacrifice. That's what you expected. That's what the higher ups told you to expect.

They had told you that Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo were monsters. Monsters who would laugh and look down upon you for coming to them after all these years. The most dangerous cursed users who betrayed Jujutsu Tech. Betrayed you. 

Well clearly they were wrong.

Because you were being hand-fed grapes by those so-called ‘dangerous curse users’ right now. 

… The grapes were really sweet, by the way.

“Here’s another one! Say ah~” Satoru beamed, bringing another ripe and juicy grape to your mouth. You were still chewing on the one Suguru had given you seconds prior, but you opened your mouth and Satoru happily popped it in. “Thanksh.” Your voice was warbled, but you still managed to let out a quick thank you.

You had double-checked, triple-checked and hell-- Even quadruple-checked the food for any poison. Any cursed energy that could potentially enter your system and put you under some sort of trance. Nothing. With every bite, you could just taste how sweet and delicious the food was.

Still, you kept your guard up.

Suguru sipped on a cup of tea, humming in contentment as he watched you and Satoru interact. “Enjoying the fruits, sweetheart?”

Satoru popped a sliced piece of an apple in his mouth, talking in between bites. “Could be better.”

“Noted. I’ll have the servants prepare something better next time.” Suguru nodded, turning to you. “Darling, what do you think?”

You swallowed. To be honest, this past week has been.. Refreshing, in a way. You had been treated better here than you ever where and ever will be at Jujutsu Tech. It was almost scary, the way anyone who passed you would bow in reverence. Servants called you master, and yet they treated you like a god. Like something sacred that was to be feared before they were loved.

You wondered if this was how Satoru felt like growing up, if the way people treated him here was no different from back at his clan. Speaking of, the white-haired man had barely left your side. While Suguru had to leave for prolonged periods of time to preach his ideals to his followers, Satoru didn’t really like participating- When you didn’t participate too, of course.

You had joined Suguru in his sermons only once, but something about it made you sick to your stomach. You were sat on a comfortable chair beside Satoru, who looked bored out of his mind. But he didn’t say anything. Simply smiled and nodded to Suguru’s tangent about a better world. The speakers, which were way too loud from where you were, echoed every word that fell from his lips.

And with every word, you remembered what the higher ups had made sure to ingrain into you within the 10 years you had to fight alone.

‘He’s insane.’

‘He will not see reason.’

‘He cannot be saved.’

You bit your cheek so much during that sermon that you were sure it was about to fall off. The next time Suguru had cheerily invited you to another one of his sermons, you turned him down gently, excusing yourself that you had something to attend to.

He didn’t comment on it, didn’t pry. Simply smiled and told you that you were free to join him anytime you wished.

Most of your downtime was spent either eating, sleeping or in the gardens. There was a severe lack of electronics in the temple, and even your shared room- Yes, shared room with Suguru and Satoru had nothing to entertain you other than a few outdated magazines that you were sure Satoru had sneaked in, even while Suguru probably knew about them already.

Satoru had puffed up his chest in pride when he showed them to you, bragging about how sneaky he had gotten these past years. Even if you had found them near-immediately when you sat on the bed, hearing the crinkle of the pages under your weight.

“I think it’s fine.” You answered Suguru, swallowing as you brushed your thoughts away. You had all night to think about those.

Suguru smiled. "At least one of you isn’t a picky eater.”

“Hey! I’m not picky!” Satoru shrieked. “I just have taste, that's all.” 

“Ofcourse, ofcourse. Forgive me.” Suguru hummed, the sarcasm dripping from his tone left ignored. “Whatever. You are forgiven.” You could sense the eyeroll under his blindfold, the familiarity of the interaction leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

“I am NOT a picky eater.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

You rolled your eyes, biting into your burger that had a suspiciously extra amount of lettuce in it. Courtesy of Satoru. Arguing with him was like walking on a treadmill, it leads nowhere.

“We’re just saying, eating vegetables makes you stronger.” Suguru hummed, swirling his pasta with a fork as he glanced at Satoru.

“Why would I want to be stronger? I’m already the strongest anyway.” Satoru drawled. “Besides,” he grins, picking out and tossing another piece of lettuce onto your plate. “I gotta save some strength for the two of you anyway.”

Suguru rolls his eyes this time, taking a forkful of his pasta. “I thought we were the strongest already?” He voiced in between bites.

“Yeaaaahh, but you two could use some work,” He waves his burger towards the two of you, some of its oil dripping onto the table. “Especially you.” He points the soggy, lettuce-less burger at you, raising his voice in accusation. “You almost made me a part of the infrastructure today!”

You cringed at the reminder. “Sorry.” You mumbled into your burger. “My cursed technique is pretty hard to control.”

“Yeah, we can see that.”

“Now, now, Satoru. You have to give them some credit,” Suguru chimed in with that smooth voice of his, making you let out a sigh of relief. At least he was on your side-

“Last mission both of us were almost a part of the infrastructure. Having you be the only one at risk this time around is progress, don’t you think?”

Nevermind.

“Maybe next time I should do it on purpose.” You grumble, snatching Satoru’s milkshake and taking a sip. “HEY!”

“Heeeeeyyyy, earth to you, helloooo?” You flinched when a pair of bright blue eyes were suddenly in front of you. Getting jumpscared by that pair of eyes had become something akin to routine nowadays. You had woken up too many nights to count to Satoru just staring at you in the dark, his eyes cryptically glowing in the dark as he ushers you to go back to sleep.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking.” You leaned backwards, awkwardly smiling as you felt your ears slightly burn from the close proximity.

Satoru didn’t look convinced at all. Neither did Suguru, who was now staring calmly at you.

“You’ve been doing that alot.” Satoru leaned closer, making you lean back instinctually. “What are you thinking about?” He pouts.

“Satoru, sit properly.”

The man himself huffed indignantly, plopping back into his seat and giving you enough room to breathe.

Suguru took a sip of his tea, taking his time before speaking. You and Satoru stay quiet, waiting patiently for Suguru to break the silence. “Our dearest is still adjusting to their new life here, need I remind you to give them space to process everything?”

“I knoooow Suguruu~” Satoru whines, rocking side to side with his legs crossed. “But it's been a week! That's enough time for them to start talking more, don't you think?”

No, you don’t think it is.

“No, it isn’t,”

Thank god

“They can take their time. Besides,” Suguru continued, putting his teacup down with a soft clink! And turning his gaze to you. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but then again, none of them did. “They’ve already told us about why they had a change of heart, no? I think that should be enough for the time being.”

Satoru sighed. “Fineee. I guess you do have a point. But I still wanna know!”

“Soon, my love.” Suguru’s eyes softened. His hand found your knee, and you pushed the urge to flinch away. You hoped that he didn’t notice how you tensed against his touch. “They’ll open up to us in time, I’m sure.” His eyes were kind, understanding.

You let out a forced smile, praying to whatever god above that they had forgotten how you truly smiled. How you smiled at them before they’d broken your heart and left. “Yeah.”

Suguru’s hand lingered a few moments longer, studying your face as his thumb continuously brushed against your thigh. You could feel the sweat trailing down the back of your neck, the light thump of your heart in your ears but you stayed passive.

Finally, after a time that felt much too long, Suguru slid his hand off of your knee and let it rest on his lap. Satoru was pouting, but that seemed enough to satisfy them. 

For now.

You fall into your bed facefirst, the sheets around you fly a few inches upwards before settling around your tired form. With a huff, you turn your head to the paper-thin divider separating your bed from the other two. The three of you had made a compromise when the two had insisted you slept beside them while you pushed for your own privacy.

This was the best they could do without Satoru whining, complaining and threatening to destroy any other wall between him and you.

You were 99% sure he meant it. Suguru was 100% sure.

Satoru peeks from the side of the divider, smiling widely when he sees your exhausted form. “Goodnight~ You're free to join us anytime!!” Satoru implied, eyes going half-lidded as he traced his eyes over your body, admiring the way your body looked in the yukata. You felt yourself burn under his gaze, swallowing thickly before his eyes met yours and he returned to his cheery demeanor. “Goodnight~” He quickly disappeared behind the divider, presumably joining Suguru in bed as far as you could tell from the rustling of sheets and soft giggles.

“..G’night.”

You flip over to lie on your back, gazing at the ceiling.

One of them blew out the last candle, the light orange hue getting replaced by the soft blue glow of the moonlight. You could barely see in the dark, but it was enough to make out the lines and intricacies of the ceiling. You don’t dare close your eyes.

You lie there for hours, barely moving— Save from turning your head to look at a more interesting view from time to time. The ceiling, the wall, the divider, the closet that was slightly ajar. You had pretty much memorized every detail you could.

Even when you feel your eyelids become heavy, your mind screaming for sleep, your will keeps shaking you awake. Your mission. Your purpose.

You remember when your purpose wasn’t to betray the two men sleeping just a few feet away from you, a time when your purpose was to protect and fight alongside them.

A time long gone. You were sure.

When you were sure that both of them had gone to sleep, their heartbeats in sync with eachothers, you sat up. Slowly, as your blanket shifted around you, you make sure to only move under the noise of Satoru’s snores.

This was one of the biggest hurdles you had to pass while staying here, and it will continue to be. Not the lies, not the fake smiles and excuses, but sneaking away from the literal six eyes user and his just as sharp husband. 

You held your breath with every second you took getting up. Once you were standing, you took slow, careful steps on the tatami. Mindful to avoid the places where the floor creaked. You had memorized it in the days leading to this one.

You reach the door and grab the handle, sliding it open just enough to fit you. You take one step outside, the floorboards groan under you. 

You heard Satoru’s snores hitch. Everything pauses, and you could practically hear the crickets outside.

You stop breathing, pausing pretty much every other bodily function in anticipation. 

Silence stretched into something that felt like forever. And you were half-convinced that if you turned around, Satoru’s bright blue eyes would be beaming down at you with rage and betrayal. A familiar look. You wonder if you looked the same when you had learned that Suguru had killed that entire village.

A beat, then another.

You hear Satoru’s snoring cut back to normal with a loud huff. You let out your own sigh of relief, feeling a few tons lighter and taking careful steps out of the room and sliding the door shut.

Your footsteps pad across the hallways, practically non-existent to any ear that isn’t Satoru’s. You make your way to the farthest point of the estate, the farthest point from your bedroom. Or their bedroom. It didn’t really feel like your own, it felt too foreign and too wrong. It didn’t feel like the room that you, suguru and satoru had shared back in the school dorms. When it  felt like each other's room were an extension of their own.

This was different.

The sliding door creaked as you eased it shut behind you, the low thock swallowed by the night. You're met with the fresh night air, thick with the fragrance of flowers and damp grass. A small and humble garden, a small pond tucked away in the corner. 

You took a slow breath and stepped down from the engawa. Your sock-covered feet met the grass with a hush. You walked carefully, each step deliberate, weaving between stepping stones and a cluster of thin bamboo stalks until you reached the flowerbeds tucked into the corner of the garden.

Your eyes swept across your surroundings once more. You heightened your senses, searching for even a flicker of cursed energy nearby. From here, you could still feel the faint pulse of Satoru’s cursed energy. Still asleep. Good.

You crouched, admiring the flowers for just a moment. Your fingers sifted through the dirt beside a stone lantern, slow and methodical. The soil was cool, clinging to your skin, and you could feel the pulse of life underneath—roots, minerals, memory. Memory that you had stored just a few nights ago. You etched a sigil into the dirt. It pulsed faintly, a ripple of your cursed technique weaving into reality itself. You were careful to use the least amount of cursed energy possible, just enough for your technique to take hold.

Reality Warp.

The soil seemed to distort and crack like glass, geometric shapes unwinding from your palm and curling around the small depression in the soil. Circles spun within circles, fractal patterns blooming like mechanical flowers. The stones shifted, fusing together. The dirt reshaped itself, compressing and hardening, folding in on itself like origami.

Click.

A cold, silver burner phone. Straight out of the 90’s. Compact, dustless, unnaturally clean against the backdrop of moss and earth. You flipped it open, chunky buttons taking a moment for you to navigate and dial a number you had memorized.

It rang once, the volume making you flinch before you remembered to isolate this part of the garden. The space around you cracked and shifted, as if the world were just refracted by mirrors. There, the sound wouldn’t alert anyone. Nor would anyone see you if they were simply passing by, you were sure that your technique wouldn’t be too visible in this darkness. Not unless someone was looking for it.

It rang for a little while longer, and you felt a light feeling of dread that nobody would answer.

But finally, a familiar voice came from the phone, slightly glitchy from the poor signal. “You’re late.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry. Had to wait for everyone to fall asleep.”

“Whatever. Your report?”

NEXT LEVEL IN PROGRESS...

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Do not copy or redistribute my works.

[disastergay]

this way of thinking is just so alien to me. like, being raised under capitalism means being taught that literally the only way to express yourself is through your purchases. of course people are going to buy the switch 2 even if it's a stupid overpriced, overhyped console. we've reached a point where having the latest cool shit is no longer an indicator of wealth because people who are financially insecure and don't realize it yet are still going to buy it.

if you're pissed off because your friend bought luxury goods and acts like it's normal to be able to do that when you very well can't, maybe your friendship just isn't that compatible to begin with.

if you're pissed off that your friend refused to spot you a $20 when you were struggling to pay rent but is more than happy to buy shit for themselves, you need better friends.

but if you're pissed because your friend, who most likely has zero institutional power, decided to spend some of their money on something that makes them happy - no matter how stupid or senseless you think that thing might be - and you go out of your way to guilt trip them over it and claim they deserve the same vitriol as Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, You Are A Tar Pit.

listen im all for criticizing the consumerist impulse to buy the new shiny thing on day 1 but also this post is kinda stupid

[jollyhunter]

Tap Once For ...

⋆ ˚｡⋆ PAIRING Dean Winchester x fem!Reader [platonic, best friends]

WARNINGS Heavy Angst, Implication of depression (if you squint), Implication of suicidal thoughts, Rainy Night Drive (it’s a mood, I swear), Dean being unusually quiet, Lots of nonverbal communication, Reader and Dean have their own language, Dean finally gets a hug !! , sorta fluff in the end?, Season 7 spoilers, is set at the end of 11x7, No use of Y/N.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY Bobby's dead. And now Dean's dying his own, silent death. Sam sees it. You see it. But he brushes it off, forces on his mask as usual. But you know a different way to make it crack; One without words.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS 3k

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTE Still thinking of this scene and the many things that were left unsaid. Consider it a sort of 'fix-fic' for this ep. ending. And perhaps overall for Dean's 'I don't talk about my crap'-problem.

If you want to feel the full vibe (recommended 💗): The songs played in the background are Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic (as in the canon scene) and Both Sides Now [1969!] by Joni Mitchell.

Dean smiles to himself.

First time ever since Bobby's death.

Cracks it in silence. In the safety of a rainy night. With no one to witness it. He glances to the right and up to the rearview mirror; Sam's snoring in the passenger seat and you're knocked out in the backseat.

It's just him behind the wheel and Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic playing in the background.

But that's alright. Because the smile that's stretched across his face is hollow.

A forceful attempt at following the advice he'd gotten from Frank.

"Do it with a smile or don't do it at all."

The corners of his lips curl up - twitch - dip down. He presses them into a thin line, before he tries again.

Every muscle's fighting him. Every emotion disagreeing with the new mask he forces onto his face, the one which is supposed to keep him from breaking down. Help him to pretend that it doesn't matter, that it doesn't eat him up inside that no matter how hard he tries, people just keep dying.

John, Ellen, Jo, Pamela - almost Lisa and Ben - then Cas and now… Bobby.

Just another one to add to the pile, right?

Who am I kiddin'…

It's not just the losses. It's the goddamn waiting. The never knowing when the next hit is gonna come. It's just a matter of time until you or Sam join the others. He knows, because it will be his damn fault.

But he can’t just quit and leave you and Sammy alone with all of this crap.

Like hell will I.

So he keeps pushing. Manages a smirk that does nothing to his eyes.

Until the darkness suddenly swallows him.

Drowns him in the void of the night, in what's left in the wake of bright orange beams which ripple through the interior of the car in a flash of a blur.

The sight has your chest tighten.

You're awake now, watching his occasionally lit-up expression through the rearview mirror without him realizing it.

Your heart twists. Face scrunches up. Damn… it's truly painful to witness. After a long beat, you cannot take it anymore.

"Dean?" you speak up softly, voice still raspy from the last hunt gone sideways. Dean's expression drops the same moment. Switches to his stoic one like a soldier summoned.

"Hm? Can't sleep?" he asks, voice gravelly but with that nonchalant tone he always likes to make use of. He lets his wrist rest casually on the steering wheel while his eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror to check on you before they return to the street ahead.

"Mhm..."

You swallow. Suck in a silent breath.

"Are you… okay?"

"Yeah. 'M fine," he answers quickly. His voice firm and exhausted as it cuts through the music like a blunt knife.

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

The relevance of those all too familiar three damn words is sapped by now. In fact, it makes you wonder whether he even remembers their original meaning.

Dean's silent for a moment. Then his focus shifts to you as he searches your eyes through the small mirror ahead.

"What about you? How are ya holding up?" he inquires, his voice softened now.

Your eyes lock with his over the reflection. Both trying to read each other's emotions. But it's hard with the stark contours cast across both of your faces from the passing by streaks of light and the occasional shadows that eat your features whenever they roll across you.

You ponder for a moment. Then decide to go with the truth.

"Honestly? Not all too well," you admit quietly. You watch Dean's eyebrows pinch together, eyes fixed to the street – but it's obvious that he's fighting the urge to turn to look at you in concern. Instead he avoids your gaze altogether.

"You've been through the wringer. You should try'n get some shuteye," he mutters, fully aware that you weren't refering to the previous hunt.

You shift in the backseat. Pull your hoodie closer, clinging to the little warmth it provides while the distance between you two is stretching. In the way which always makes you feel like he's slowly walking away from you even though he's physically close enough to touch if you'd wanted to.

You hope he might say something more. Anything.

But he doesn't.

He's drifting further away from you and you can feel it.

Not just now.

But ever since Sam had gone Beautiful Mind and Cas had betrayed you all and died. It's like every time something happens, another piece of him is lost to the void.

And Bobby's death was just the thing to tip him over the edge.

"Can I pick a different song?" you finally pipe up again while sitting up straight, afraid of losing him completely if you were to let the silence stretch any longer.

Dean's attention snaps back to you, eyebrows raised. He hesitates, then nods.

"What d'you wanna listen to?"

"Um," you scoot to the middle of the bench, lean forward, chest hanging over the front's backrest as you fumble for the box still on the leather seat next to Dean. Your fingers rifle through the many bands and mix-tapes. Careful not to wake Sam, who's fast asleep with his long body folded into the corner of the passenger seat.

"This one," you hum satisfied as you pull one out and push it into the recorder.

Not even the first accord of the song fills the inside of the car when Dean's hand shoots out.

"Nope," he cuts in and hits the eject button with a little too much force, "We're not doing that therapy crap."

You startle at his quick reaction. Yet, you're not surprised, as you expected something along the line when you'd pick one of Bobby's tapes. The one Dean had saved from the many boxes which held Bobby's entire library and at least a few personal belongings here and there. Like the flask of his, which Dean's been carrying close to his heart for the past 5 weeks. And been making use of for at least two dozen times a day, sleepless nights not included.

"Whatever you're trying – don't," he adds annoyed.

Propped up on your forearms, next to his shoulder, you blink at his profile. He stubbornly keeps his focus on the road ahead, refusing to look your way. Once again.

You drop back into your seat with a heavy exhale. But stay quiet.

"What? Gonna give me the silent treatment now?"

Another beat of silence, then;

"I miss Bobby," you mutter in response.

Quiet. Honest and sad. Dean instantly picks up on it and his annoyance dissipates at once, frown wrinkles softened.

He lets out a quiet sigh. Then adds. "Yeah. Me too."

Heavy drops begin to rattle the hood. The sky seems to be able to do what he can't; emptying itself shamelessly. The unspoken conversation is taken over by the squeaking sounds of the wipers relentless battle against the flood that's trying to wash you off the streets.

The repetitive tac-tac-tac above you, along Sam's soft zzz-zzzz's has something calming. Soothing even. It drowns out the rest of the world, while the darkness swallows any reminder of civilization that passes by. And for a fleeting moment, the reality of you three is reduced to this.

All of your problems, all of your fears, losses, emotions, every thought unspoken; right here, right now, cooped up inside Dean's only safe haven.

He sighs. You sigh.

You sense the room to open up. It's small, it's fragile and you have no idea how much you can put into it until Dean decides to step outside again.

But you want to try.

"Sometimes… I think it's just all a nightmare, and when I wake up from it, he's still here… y'know? But… the nightmare never stops. And worst is… the world just keeps spinning," you confess in a weak voice. Vulnerable and broken. And for Dean it's just enough to make out amongst the noise of the car's engine and the heavy rain crashing down on its shell.

"Like nothing has changed. Like no one cares," you continue.

Dean doesn't move. He listens. Takes it all in.

Your focus flickers now, eyes glued to the raindrops racing against each other as they slide down the window. Its glass cold and damp under your shoulder which is pushed into the corner of the passenger door, temple dropped against it with a soft thud.

"And it pisses me off," you add in a bitter voice, "Everyone else just gets to live on. It's just not fucking fair."

You angle your head against the window, eyes darted past his shoulder to study his reaction.

Dean's jaw's set. His fingers tightening around the wheel ever so slightly, eyes refusing to lift and meet your pained expression.

For a moment it seems like he's going to open his mouth – but his voice dies down before his lips even part.

Perhaps because he's torn between letting the silence do the talking, or asking more and deal with the fear of not being able to carry the weight of your grief on top of his own right now.

You let out a soft huff at his lack of reaction. Which does not go unnoticed by Dean.

"Life ain't fair, sweetheart," he scoff-chuckles. The sound of it rough and bitter. His entire body is coiled tight. Clearly struggling to hold himself together. "And if you can't deal with that, chances are that you're in the wrong biz."

Your eyebrows furrow at his biting comment. And for a moment you have to bite your tongue to not fire something hurtful back. Instead you swallow the words back down, way too used to this defensive tactic of his by now to fall for it.

Even though Dean's putting up the same facade he's used for the past decades, you know that he cares. Deeply. Can see how his face does that pained scrunch whenever his heart twists. It's brief, but it's definitely there and you never miss it. Even if he won't admit it.

You both let your confession hanging in the air until it's lost in the heavy silence once more.

You turn your head to watch the world race past you. Pull a knee up to your chest to rest your arm on it. Forehead dropped against the damp glass. Resigned.

Out of your view, Dean keeps checking on your curled up form through the rearview mirror.

After a while, he suddenly reaches over and shoves the same cassette back into the player. Hits play without looking. And your head instantly whips up in surprise as he lets Bobby's favourite song, Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell, fill the room between you.

Dean's focus is back on the blurry road with the two beams of light that guide him. The slow and familiar guitar tunes make his index finger tap on the wheel along the beats. But you can tell that his mind is still somewhere else entirely.

You sit up straight and decide to try a different approach.

Leaning forward slightly, you place a hand onto his shoulder. Dean startles from the unexpected contact, but doesn't pull away. Instead lets your touch ground him. You rub your hand along his jacket, inching up to the exposed skin of his neck, where the tips of your fingers brush across it. Slow and soothing.

A soft exhale's huffed from his nose. Eyes flutter closed before they return their focus to the road.

His mask slips, just for a split second.

And you cannot help but feel a surge of hope. Hope to finally reach that stubborn ass who happened to become your best friend years ago and one of the most important people in your life.

"You know, I'm a damn mess. So is Sam," you begin in a slow voice and lean in closer to him, lips right behind his ear, "And we don't expect you to be doing well either. In fact, I'd feel better knowing that we can share that pain."

Dean sucks in a sharp breath before you even get to finish your sentence. But you cut him short with his protests stuck on his lips.

"Dean-" your fingers dig into his shoulder as a warning, "I'm serious. Can I ask you to be honest with me for two goddamn seconds?"

He huffs. Rolls his eyes as he dramatically lifts and drops his hands down onto the wheel, muttering something about 'stubborn woman'.

You squeeze his shoulder and he scoffs, acting annoyed as he always does when he's being called out on his bullshit.

"Fine," he finally relents. Your grip softens at his answer. Even if it's obviously reluctant.

You take a moment to sort your mind. Planning your path through a damn minefield of words right now.

Then you soften your voice, as if you were talking to a cornered animal.

"You're not really okay, are you…?" - his muscles tense under your palm like you'd just pushed the muzzle of a gun into his back - "You don't have to answer that," you quickly interrupt his thoughts as you could practically see his throat grow tight, mind struggling to form an answer.

Dean frowns. Eyes glued to the road. Expression still guarded, but there's just the tiniest hint of... disappointment. A silent cry of desperation. Desperate for being exposed. For someone else to drag his emotions into the open.

"Then why'd you even ask'?" He snaps back at you without looking.

Slowly you move the hand on his shoulder, across his collarbone and down to rest your palm on his chest, leaving him the chance to protest. When he doesn't, you bring up your other arm and wrap them both around him from behind. You pull yourself closer until your chest's flush against his backrest, then hook your chin over his right shoulder.

Dean stiffens at first. Stunned by your unexpected action. But then his body begins to relax in the safety of your familiar embrace. You feel his chest heave and fall beneath you as a long exhale leaves his lips.

"Talk to me," you murmur. He blinks in confusion, eyebrows quirked.

Then you tap your finger once.

Right on top of his left chest side. Dean doesn't comment on it, but you can tell by the way his eyes flickered sideways to meet yours for just a moment, that he registered it.

And he instantly understands.

How could he forget the night he had opened up to you for the first time. That night he'd shown up on your porch out of nowhere. Drenched and shaking. Two weeks away from being torn to pieces and dragged downstairs. How you'd held him the entire night. Cradled his tear streaked cheeks. Listened, even though the words had failed him.

The warmth of your palms against his chest calms the storm that's churning in his mind. He's sure you can feel the way his heart is pounding underneath your tender fingertips. Just like that night you'd told him this thing you'd like to try.

You never spoke about it again.

But you didn't need to, because Dean and you had been using it ever since like second nature. Your own little language. Secret. Safe. Innocent in its own way. It harboured no judgment, no walls, no fear of being vulnerable. And most importantly;

No words. Just touch.

"I'm here for you. You know that, right?" you ask softly. His left hand tightens its grip around the steering wheel, refusing to slow down Baby, while his other slips to his knee. There his forefinger arches then…

Tap.

Your chest tightens as you watch the crack in his wall grow bigger.

"You holding up?"

Silence. Then a hesitant;

Tap... Tap.

Somewhere at the corner of your peripheral vision you sense how his green eyes are stinging from unshed tears.

His right hand comes up to cover yours on his chest, searching your connection. No words. Just his fingers intertwining with yours. Heavy hand pressed down onto your tender one. He squeezes it. Holding onto you like you're the only thing to keep him from drowning… or from doing something real stupid.

You swallow, a thought forming in your head which you'd tried to ignore for so long.

"Dean... you ever…" you hesitate. The murmured words next to his ear momentarily die down as they become heavy and cling to your tongue like tar.

Your arms unconsciously tighten around him, like you're scared of his answer, afraid he might disappear the moment the question leaves your mouth. And frankly, you were unsure whether you even wanted to know.

Then his thumb presses into your palm. A silent permission for you to go on. Maybe some voice inside him even begging you to.

You swallow. Start again. This time your voice comes out in a mere hush, just to make sure Sam wouldn't hear it.

"You ever think of… ending it all?"

Dean stiffens. Throat going tight. His grip painful as he clings to you. You feel him lift his finger, slow, shaky…

…

Tap.

Your stomach drops and your heart feels like a dagger just twisted it inside out. The single tap, so soft but clear against the knuckle of your middle finger.

Dean's face scrunches up as he's holding his breath without realizing it. Secretly regretting it all already. You're gonna panic. Judge him. Pity him. Yell at him, scold him even, for just as much as considering the thought.

How could I be so goddamn selfish and worry her like this?

"Damnit," he curses in silence, his free hand dragged down across his mouth briefly before it returned to the steering wheel.

You say his name softly as you feel the guilt building inside him. His jaw clenches. Shoulders shifting under your weight. Dean had picked up on how your breath hitched next to his ear when he confirmed your fears. How your hands tightened under his.

"Sorry," he suddenly chokes out.

The voice so raw, so small, so unbelievably vulnerable as the apology slipped him, that you decide to close the little gap that was left between you.

You lean in, nose nuzzled into his short, dark blond ruffled hair. Forehead gently pressed against the back of his head with your eyes closed. He swallows thickly at the unfamiliar feeling of your warm breath on his neck, lips tingling the short hair there.

"It's okay. I got you," you murmur in a low voice.

Dean's eyes widen in surprise. Stunned at the way your words came out so… calm, understanding, reassuring.

"You don't need to fake a smile for me."

Dean lets out a heavy breath. A bit shaky.

You squeeze your interlocked hands and he subtly leans his head back against yours. The smell of his hair fills your nose as you allow him to rest against you, face nuzzled into the warmth of the nape of his neck, your arms slung over his shoulders and hooked around his rising and falling chest, nothing but the familiar sound of Baby's engines carrying you through the storm, the melodic pitter-patter of the rain on the hood and the voice of Joni Mitchell in your ears.

"Can I stay like this for a bit..?" you ask in a sleepy murmur.

Dean shifts slightly under your weight as he feels you grow heavier against his back. He's not used to this kind of... intimacy. The knowledge that you need no words to understand each other. How the warmth of your body is enveloping him from behind, or your face is burried in his hair like its the safest place. The oddly comfortable feeling of... just being held.

And deep down it scares him how he's absuletly craving for more.

After a moment, his forefinger wiggles free from your grip, his palm still covering yours. While out of your sight, the corner of his lips tug into a hesitant, genuine smile... and he taps once.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTE I'm still alive! Sorry for being so inactive lately... Writing is going very slow. And I'm one click away from throwing my laptop out the window (not really, I depend on Thanos. That's his name. 'Cause he loves to make things disappear lmao 🫰) ANYWAY. I've got so so many fics of y'all I want to catch up on. Promise I'll check them asap - so much I want to comment on and reblog but my tbr list just keeps growing?? Anyway, thanks to my lovely moots who keep me motivated to keep writing, I love you 💗 And a special shout to @the-potato-is-lonely for listening to my struggles with this fic 😭🧡

Dean Tag List:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3 @maddie0101 @livya99 @supernotnatural2005 @Ms-kayla-readinglover @youdontknowe @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @123passwort @lamentationsofalonelypotato @my-stories-vault

@champagnepoets @salemslostwitch @chevroletdean @multiversefanfics @toxicfataldestiny @sunnys-struggles @kimxwinchester @nesnejwritings @carliebear23 @alexxavicry

���ꗥ Want to join my TAG LIST? Fill out this form!

[max1461]

Ok, ok. This has gotten to the point where it is simply intolerable, I cannot describe it as any other way than I am being raped from the inside, my own self is gone and in its absence other people are inside my body, inside my mind, violating me completely. I feel that I have no free will. There is never a break. It is accretionary; once I have been violated, my physical body it feels like but also my mind, it just stays there, the violating-instrument stays stuck in me throbbing. Please, please, I have not had a break in six months, it has been accreting for six months, I need this to stop. I do not know what is happening. There are two definite "sides", it's like my middle was removed and these strange sensations and false memories and so on run up my sides and then fuse in the middle, into something wrong and awful. But my actual grasp of the facts, both purely semantic knowledge and reality-checking, are completely intact. But everything else is messed up. All food tastes like piss, good feels like bad, I can't think clearly. I need this to stop, I cannot wait any longer, I need this to stop.

The sides correspond to my eyes, the sides thing has a reality to it in the sense that if I close one eye my perception of the world will be colored by the sensations from one side, if I close the other eye vice versa, and often it feels like I have different "intentions" in my two eyes. When this started I literally felt like I was going cross-eye all the time, there was this obvious visual twisting effect, but only when looking at things where the weird scrambling-and-fusing effect had messed up my perceptions internally.

Also there is a definitely feeling of being "down in myself", of being stuck "down" inside my mind. Like my brain's internal body-map, and especially my face, is not lined up with my actual body but is like "way down in my mind", and my body is sort of "empty", if that makes sense? And sometimes it tries to fill up my body but the parts go to the wrong places, my head goes to my hand or so on. I don't believe it's actually there, but it's SO VIVID, it FEELS like it's actually there. I'll feel my nose protruding out of my arm and shit. And I'm somehow twisted backwards, like, the outside world and my mind's eye have been "flipped", so that what's in my head feels more vividly real than what's actually real, and what's actually real feels like it's being inserted directly into my head.

A lot of overlap with psychosis, but all my doctors have said they don't think this is it. Mainly because my speech is unaffected, it's fully linear, and my reality-checking and grasp of the facts seems fine. To that I would add, uh...

Ok, most mental issues seem "fluid". In the sense that, like, say you have anxiety. Well, you can be anxious about one thing one day, then about another thing the next, it ebbs and flows and so on. I gather that psychosis is a least a little but like this, your voices and delusions ebb and flow. I cannot stress enough that what is going on with me is not like this. It is absolutely accretionary. Every little momentary sensation or mental image or whatever, external or internal, builds up and "sticks" within my mind, it doesn't pass, it doesn't go away, it just accretes as a huge indescribable blob. When the body map stuff gets really weird and I start to feel like my head is in a different place or my left and right sides are getting pulled, there is often visual flashing and other strange visual artifacts, and strange, horrible smells. The smells are the most vivid sensory part. And then these incomprehensible sensations just stick there and accrete, I feel mentally and physically twisted into a knot, twisted around myself and pulled through myself a thousand times and glued like that. This goes also for my memories and so on, even though I no what happened factually the actual memory is not of that, it's some horrible twisted thing. And anyway, when all this happens, it feels like a straight up computer glitch. Not a mental problem, a fucking computer glitch. And it feels like I am being progressively rewritten.

I have had an MRI, it was normal. At first the doctors thought this may have to do with epilepsy but I've had a few EEGs, they were normal, and I was on epilepsy meds for a few months and they didn't help. It's been almost 7 months now and I can't handle it any longer. Nothing has helped at all, it's all day, no breaks, even when I sleep I just have awful incomprehensible dreams all night. It is literally hell.

Please, if anyone has ANYTHING they can think of to try, or anything, let me know, I am really and truly desperate.

[crepezinhos]

A Vampire’s Breakfast

POV: Hugo cannot resist the tempting scent of blood coming from between of your legs and he will not let you get out of bed to enjoy your Saturday morning until he’s cleaned the mess between them.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a fluffy NSFW work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Au is: In-Game

— Hugo x Menstruated!Reader

— Contains: Period sex, blood play, fingering and blood / cum eating and morning sex

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Your skin shivered in recognition of your alarm’s nosy and repete music, eyes snapping open instinctually.

Ugh… seriously..? You forgot to turn off your alarm yesterday..?! You only had one job to get yourself a good night of sleep and a fresh morning. But, no, you’ve gotten yourself the most annoying wake-up call you could get yourself.

So you quickly reached a hand to your alarm and lazily clicked the button that’d shut it up before your anger for it accumulated enough for you to explode and squeeze the alarm until it crumbled into hundreds of pieces.

But as soon as you started thinking about raising your body and your hips, you started to realize just how incredibly heavy they felt for some reason. As if something heavy was on top of them. Confused, you lifted your head to look down at your lower body, since that was the only part of your body you could move without moving anything else and possibly ruining your investigation, and find out what was laying on top of you.

Hugo Vlad.

Sleeping so visibly happy on your lower belly that he even had a little grin on his lips. You could swear he’d be purring if he was a thiren.

Now, this is new to you. You’ve never woken up with Hugo sleeping on top of you like that, only with him almost crushing you whole body as bigger spoon. But that was rare too. Hugo would almost always just sneak his way out of bed and home to go do his dirty work.

So this was definitely alarming to you.

“Hugo..?” His hanging ear immediately twitched at the recognition of your voice, eyes opening pretty slowly.

“Y/N…” He looked at you as if he was falling in love with you all over again, saying your name like a prayer.

“What are you doing..?” You asked in suspicion even if the slumber was almost forcing your eyes shut again.

"Let me ask you something first..." Hugo cleared his throat before continuing. "Y/N... are you... on your period?" The grin on his lips mischievously grew as he asked you such a random question.

All you did initially was express your confusion and shock with your face, frowning your eyebrows and widening your eyes. But then you quickly remembered that Hugo Vlad was a vampire, meaning he might've identified it, and you gave up on scolding him.

"Really weird question, but... I don't know..? If you smell blood, then I probably am.." You laid your head down in the bed again, lamenting the official announcement of your first day menstruating.

Thankfully you decided to put on a tampon last night to make sure you wouldn't have any bloody accidents going on in the morning whenever your body let you menstruation down. If you'd woken up with your annoying alarm and had this mess to immediately deal with... you would've probably just given up on enjoying the weekend.

“I definitely do… Oh, I definitely do…” Hugo’s smirk only seemed to grow weirder and weirder, looking at your crotch with… interest? “Mind if I take a look and confirm it?” You suddenly felt his other hand’s fingers, who had ran across you so quickly and smoothly you didn’t even feel it, hanging in the edge of your shorts, stopping them right before he could pull them down.

“… What the heck are you planning to do..?” You asked with zero energy to deal with Hugo’s stubbornness.

“I just want to check on my beautiful girlfriend and take care of her. Is something wrong with that?” He shrugged his arms, talking in a really obvious sarcastic tone, but you still couldn’t figure out what he had in mind in the end.

“Fine…” You sighed in defeat which made Hugo excited immediately.

In a blink, Hugo jumped from his laid position to kneel between your legs, spreading them apart to fit in between. His hands were quick to grab the edge of your shorts and panties again and he pulled them down until they were landing on your knees, meeting the lustful view of your nudity.

“Ahhh… It looks like you definitely bled last night.” Hugo sniffed the air with determination, as if he was excited about that. “How jealous I am of this thing right here in my sanctuary…” Hugo suddenly hooked his finger around the tampon’s string and pulled it out, bringing it close to his face so he could inspect closely just how much you’d stuffed it with blood.

“Hugo..! What are you doing..?! Put it back..!” You snapped your knees shut, trying to prohibit Hugo from touching you any more and also trying to impede your blood to drip down on the white sheets of the bed.

“No, no, darling… Don’t close your legs… I just want to take care of you…” Hugo slid a hand between your thighs, creating a barrier between them so they wouldn’t completely shut.

“What do you mean ‘Take care of me’..?!” You asked, trying your best to surpass the sleepiness in your tone, but you simply just couldn’t.

“I want to clean you up, that’s all!” Hugo smiled as if he didn’t say anything weird at all, almost excited actually.

“Clean me up..?! But I’m clean, aren’t I?!” You rose your chest a bit to look down at your crotch, only to meet everything around it as clear as it should be.

“Yes… but not here.” Hugo’s hand in your thighs suddenly slid up and stretched its index finger that quickly ran between your moistened lips, making you squeak in surprise.

“H-Hey..!” You protested, but he immediately pulled his hand out of your thighs before you could punish him yourself.

And while still ignoring you, Hugo brought that same finger close to his nose, red tip facing down, and sniffed it hardly.

“Ahhhh… So it really was you…” Hugo groaned, almost purring while he locked his eyes on you with even more hunger, as if you were a vulnerable prey.

“Obviously…” You replied, watching him suddenly surpass your expectations again with how he proceeded to open his mouth and thrust the tip of his finger inside it with no warning, sucking and licking himself like he was savoring a full meal after two days without eating.

Your eyes widened in shock seeing him do that and not in a good way. You were filled with disgust.

“H-Hugo!! What the hell?! That’s disgusting!” You brought both your arms to your face and used them both to blind yourself from that horrendous view of Hugo eating your period’s fresh blood.

“Disgusting? I’ll show you disgusting.” Despite being blind, you could feel Hugo lean closer and closer to you while that same hand of his ran up your chest, landing in your chest bone, only to push you down in the bed again.

You, surprised, spread your arms away from your face to make sure you were aware what Hugo was doing to you, only to find him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants as you expected from him after this move of his. His hard cock sprung free from his boxers the moment it had enough space to escape that tight coffin.

“Hugo, it’s 9 in the morning..!” You finally took the opportunity to fully shut knees against each other, without his hands interrupting you this time, not wanting him to get that dick of his any closer to you.

“Y/N, please… You have no idea how horny I am for you right now… Your scent is irresistible…” He leaned close to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin as he prepared to speak. “I just spent the last hour sleeping on you, wondering when you’d wake up for me to do this, counting every second while I admired your beauty… Do you have any idea how tortuous that was?” He purposefully spoke in a poor-puppy tone to convince you to feel bad for him.

And it worked because you sighed in defeat again and closed your eyes, still burning for more sleep.

“Fine… Just be careful…” You mumbled in boredom, but Hugo still had a total contrary reaction, noticeably giggling in your ear from excitement.

“Of course, my princess…” Hugo leaned upwards again, using both his hands to spread your legs.

Hugo licked his own lips at the sight of your pussy, hole almost dripping with your blood, lips slightly stained with blood. He guessed you had so much accumulated blood inside you, he wouldn’t even to make you wet first. The blood would be enough for him to slide himself in. And that’s exactly what he tested out, slowly pushing his tip inside you more and more. And as he guessed, you were indeed moistened enough for him to be welcomed in your sanctuary, and you’d probably become even mushier with the stimulus of sex, which he was barely drooling for.

“Fuck… You are so warm already…” He enjoyed how insides were extra warm with the presence of blood around it.

Hugo already begun going back and forth inside you in an average pace as soon as he was done deepening himself for the first time. Not slow and intense nor fast and raw, just a normal speed and normal intensity. Maybe he was also too sleepy to go any faster the same way you were too sleepy to do anything, even to moan. All the noises you were letting out were occasional grunts and groans, half-censored due to your mouth being closed.

“And I can already feel you tightening up more and more around me… Do you like it when I’m inside you this much? Even when you’re tired? When you just woke up?” Hugo wheezed again, looking down at you with that good-old mischievous smirk of his.

“Maybe I do…” You played along with his light degradation, still not opening your eyes.

And Hugo took advantage of that to attend his need to see how his dick looked around you, and he could swear he could cum with the sight alone. Can you image what it means for a vampire like him to have his cock disappeared inside his favorite woman and being dirtied by her fresh blood and clear juices at the same time? It was a work of art in Hugo’s eyes, one that made the butterflies of his stomach k turn it upside down.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re making a mess on me…” He couldn’t hold that comment back, too overwhelmed by the sight. “You have to let me suck your neck too…” And then he let that ask go too, begging you between his shameless groans, eyes glistening with his vampirism.

“Hugo, no… I don’t want to pass out while you fuck me at all…” You protested, opening your eyes just to ware him in case he still chose to push your buttons.

But Hugo would never do such a thing. Instead, he’d make you do that to yourself using his puppy-eye tactic again.

“Pass out? I would never do that to you, baby… And it’s not like you haven’t let me suck you before… Pleeeeeeaaaaseeee..?” He knew that annoying you enough would convince you to do anything he wished to do and you hated he much he exploited that because it always worked.

He got you to sigh in defeat again.

Trying to be positive about it, you thought to yourself that Hugo, in the end of the day, had no other intentions rather than to make you feel the best he could when you’re about to go through such a tough week in menstruation.

“What else do you want from me, huh?” You turned your face to the side and closed your eyes again, giving Hugo the space and consent to make out with your neck.

“Absolutely nothing else…” answered said before diving his head between your shoulder and neck, canines immediately piercing your skin upon landing.

It definitely stung you, but you were already halfway used to that pain due to how frequently Hugo would suck your blood. Right now, he actually didn’t even suck much blood. If he could be honest, he only did that to your neck so he could leave behind a beautiful bite mark on you. And it worked. When Hugo pulled his face out, your skin was red from the inflammation and there were two cute holes side-by-side in it that clearly demonstrated Hugo had been there.

“Beautiful…” Hugo complimented after swallowing the sip of blood he’d sucked out of you, his throat swinging forth and back once to show you he’d really done it, and he was proud of it.

“You freak…” You replied but Hugo ignored, licking his lips in admiration of the view of you. “You didn’t even bother to think about putting on a condom…” You complained as soon as you started to realize that Hugo’s dick did not feel rubbery at all, meaning he was fully naked inside you.

“No need to worry about that, darling… I don’t intend to cum inside you at all…” Hugo explained, eyes completely locked in your bouncing body while one hand could hold back and launched itself at one of your breasts, fondling its mass carefully and gently.

“Seriously, Hugo..? It’s 9 in the morning and you want to make a mess on my belly..?” You palmed your own forehead at the thought of Hugo doing that to you.

“Yes. Are there any problems with that? God forbid a man wants to show his love to his marvelous girlfriend…” Hugo ironized, completely devaluing your complaint, giggling at the dirty thought of him painting your belly with his cum.

“A girlfriend who is on her period…” You opened your eyes only to stare deeply at Hugo’s heterochromatic eyes, finally calling his attention for once.

“Even better.” He smirked down at you, ignoring your complaint again. “You know you don’t hate this.” And he doubled down on his argument, not taking you seriously at all. “Because I surely don’t.” He winked, finally angling his eyes down to look at where all the movement was happening again.

Hugo’s ears twitched at the sight, groaning in a primal tone once again as he saw his dick even more glistened with your clear wetness and blood now that he got your pussy to moisten more.

“Fuuuuckkkkk, you’re really messing me up down here…” Hugo laughed, placing another hand on your waist only to hold it hard.

And his pace suddenly quickened, too horny to keep moving nice and slow. But you didn’t mind. In fact, that made you start moaning a hit more frequently even if you were doing effort to keep quiet.

“I’m already about to cum… So fast… So easy… All because of you…” Hugo laughed at his own situation, trying to pretend his breath wasn’t hitching and struggling underneath all his joy. “You really have ruined me for any other woman…” Hugo whispered, cheeks glowing pink from confessing such an intimacy to you.

“You’re so cute when you’re not the founder of Mockingbird.” You lazily complimented him, which only fired him up to keep reaching his orgasm.

It was hard for you to see instances of Hugo Vlad, much less Hugo Vlad Ravenlock. Today he seemed to be allowing himself to let his mask fall and reveal the true man he is, even if it’s a bit disgusting.

Hugo does not stop working on weekends, he only takes longer breaks on them, meaning he spends very little time with you, compensating all your wait taking you out to amazing dates and later having you under him like this on the nights of weekends.

“Cumming…” Hugo groaned hoarsely, hissing one last time.

Then, he abruptly removed himself from you, beginning to spill all his orgasm on top of your belly like a mad man, accompanied by a guttural moan from the deepest corners of his throat. His hands even trembled a bit, pointy ears twitching heat and warmth taking him over the edge squishing your hips and boob tightly again. Initially he had his eyes snapped shut due to how hard that orgasm was, but he soon widened them open again to witness the mess he was doing to you.

The combination was truly repugnant to you. His blood-stained cock painting your belly with his sperm. But for Hugo, you looked like an even finer piece of art. He had to bite his inferior lip to how himself from going savage.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Hugo wheezed after his tip finally stopped expelling cum out of it, still looking down at the bloody mess he did on him and you with pure admiration and appreciation.

“Are you happy now?” You acted bratty on purpose to feed Hugo’s ego.

“Yes… but not enough…” Hugo replied, making your eyes widen with a bit of shock at that implication of a second round. “A man that doesn’t make his perfect girlfriend cum is not truly a happy man.” You felt Hugo’s grip tighten around your hips, preparing to thrust his hips onto you again.

“Hugo, no..!” You moved your hands down and held his wrists, chaining them where they were.

“Why not..? I just want my queen to have a good morning…” He did his poor-puppy face once again, pointy ears even leaning down, reinforcing his act.

“I feel good enough already…” You ignored his act, which made him sigh in defeat.

“Are you sure, my love?” Hugo leaned his face down, staring deep at your eyes truthfully interested.

“I promise you.” You gave him a little reassuring grin, convincing Hugo to finally end that warm session of sex you two had.

“Fine…” Hugo smooched your forehead, kneeling down on top of you again right afterwards, his dick still hanging naked in the air. “Want to see a magic trick?” He smirked down at you, and you immediately recognized it as a sign that a joke was about to be done.

“Do I have another option?” You asked ironically.

“No.” Hugo smiled, completely contrary from his negative answer.

Then he rose both his arms, opening his palms and fingers to show them to you.

“See my empty hands?” He moved his fingers in a wave rhythm, calling your attention to each of them.

“Yes, Hugo. I see your empty hands.” You answered with an ironic tone again.

“Now, let me use a hand of mine to get this thing out of your ear…” He leaned down again, an ‘empty’ hand reaching close to your ear and going behind it.

After gesturing it a bit offstage, he finally pulled his hand back, showing you an unopened tampon hanging on the tip of his index finger.

“Wow… I’m so surprised… I wonder how did you do that…” You asked in a really obvious sarcastic tone, making Hugo giggle.

“I know, I know…” Hugo bragged himself while opening the pack with the assistance of his mouth.

Then he carefully thrusted the tampon into you, enough for the string to be pulled out if needed.

“There we go…” Hugo shoved the remaining plastic in the back pocket of his pants. “Now…” Hugo placed the tip of his index finger on your belly, slowly sliding across all the stains he’d spilled on you, scooping it all. “Would you mind..?” He approached the finger a bit closer to you, quietly asking you to eat it.

“Fine…” You slightly spread your lips apart, giving him enough space for Hugo to transport the cum into your tongue.

You weakly swallowed it down, leaving Hugo very happy and satisfied with your performance, enough to pat your head after for a bit. But then the next thing he did was use that same hand to stroke his dick.

“Want to see me do the same for you?” When he brought that same hand, shaped like a ring and now dirty with blood, just a few inches away from his mouth, he knew that’d immediately make you angry.

“Ew, Hugo!” You shut your knees together again, trying to get yourself away from the disgusting man in front of you, who only laughed in response.

“Alright, alright…” Hugo finally pulled your panties and shorts back in place and pulled your shirt down again, then finally beginning to crawl away from you, holding his dick a bit more down now so it wouldn’t infect anything else with its red stains.

But before he went to the bathroom to eat all that blood clean himself, he decided to walk to the bed’s side, standing right next to you.

“Rest a bit more, darling.” Hugo pulled the sheets of the bed up to your shoulder with his remaining hand, caressing your head one last time.

“Thank you.” You said with a genuine smile in your face now.

“My pleasure, my love.” Hugo whispered warmly, and as soon as you blinked, the founder of Mockingbird was gone for work.

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

[fee-phy-fo-fum]

okay. okay!! ...i cannot pick just one. also there may be repeats of what other people have recced but here we go!!

Parallax by discatded

pre-canon, mal du pays exists and essentially haunts siffrin (and the party) on the way to dormont. some things are resolved, some aren't

EMOTIONAL SLEDGEHAMMER TO THE FACE

my comment for it exceeded the character limit on comments. twice. my comment for it is 3 comments long. i have 2 comics for it. one of it is animated. i have That Much feelings about it.

Four Eyes by blueshine

siffrin's loops from isabeau's pov but with one major difference that butterfly-effects itself into a canon divergence

its nonlinear but in a way that like. makes sense. how can i describe this.

cutting through all of the isabeau layers like onions. its so good. everything hits just right on the edge of like overwhelming and every chapter gives new context to previous chapters

i dont reread it as much as i do other fics bc of the length but its got a fair number of rereads from me for a fic thats almost 200k long right now do not test me i have an 8 page comic for it

Rippling out into the Source by Blazing_rain

pre-canon, mirabelle sees ghosts of siffrins to be in the house without knowing who siffrin is.

the subsection titles? gorgeous. conspiracy theorist style mirabelle? wonderful. the emotional beats??? left me gritting my teeth together and sobbing in bed.

i am BIASED but i do love it. its a brilliant execution of the idea that left me feeling like i was executed.

Even in my fantasy, I can't commit to believing by loafabun

post odile looping, loop travels with the party and loop and siffrin are just twisted mirrors of each other and neither are happy about it

no one is good at communication in this fic. this also checks out with canon.

this one's a very indulgent reread i come back to every now and then and by every now and then i mean like once a week at least. hey i wonder where all my free time goes

Like a Wheel Ever Turning (series) by annasofroma

odile looping au. this does not mean it goes smoother and also odile is very not normal about some things.

to be fair. no one in this series is normal about um. a lot of things. things are weird!

i think this one balances the tones of the humour and the suffering really well! not quite too much of one or the other and just enough to kinda keep things under control

kayy i think those are top 5 for me?? but other fics i really really liked too:

the chokehold of a broken family bond by ronzcaby

throw stones at walls you'll never climb by clockwork_owl

(i really can't stay) baby it's cold outside by meltyicecream (nsfw bits)

A Long Way to Go to Not Remembering by Incoure

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above by Cinnamin_Is_a_Star

Just want you close to me (too close TOO CLOSE) by TheRantingSage

Understudy in the Audience by AsleepBySeven

Void In My Head And Under My Skin by AutisticSinosauropteryx

reblog with your favourite isat fanfiction so I can go and check it out

[uhuhmaries]

If It Lingers, Why Leave?

Summary: The night in Tokyo wasn’t supposed to happen. But between the bubble bath, red wine, and quiet confessions, resisting him becomes impossible. Now it’s slower, deeper—dangerous. And when you walk away, you’re not sure if it’s really over… or just beginning.

First Part: https://www.tumblr.com/uhuhmaries/785892265077948416/the-tension-between-us

Warnings: nsfw (18+), bathtub intimacy, slow sex, emotional vulnerability, post-hookup tension, unprotected sex, emotional cheating, soft dom!harry, reader has a situationship, light drinking, emotional confusion, paparazzi mention, angst

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You ask him softly, almost shyly:

“Can I take a bath?”

He doesn’t say a word. Just lets out a chuckle, nods, and disappears into the ensuite.

A few minutes later, you hear the water running. When you walk in, the lights are dimmed to a soft golden glow. Lavender-scented bubbles climb to the rim. A bottle of red wine sits uncorked on the counter with two crystal glasses.

Harry’s sitting slightly at the edge of the tub, sleeves rolled, checking the temperature like it’s second nature.

“Didn’t know what scent you liked,” he says, glancing over his shoulder, voice low. “So I guessed. Hope it’s alright.”

It’s more than alright.

It’s too much. It’s intimate. Thoughtful. Gentle. Dangerous.

It was supposed to be a one-time fan hookup.

You murmur a thank you, and he steps back, eyes flickering down your body just once before he says, “I’ll give you a moment. Shout if you need anything.”

But something inside you—maybe the wine, maybe the ache—speaks before your mind can catch up.

“You could… stay. If you want.”

There’s a beat. He looks back at you.

Then: “You sure?”

You nod. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

Harry doesn’t answer right away. He just walks over to the counter, pours two glasses, and sets one beside the tub. He sheds his shirt and watches you with quiet intensity as you slip out of your robe and step into the bath.

It’s warm. Soft. Safe.

And then he joins you.

Across from you, one knee bent, wine glass in hand, his skin wet and glistening under the low light. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s heavy. The kind that says everything without a word.

He speaks first. “You’ve been quiet.”

You glance down, swirling your glass. “Just… thinking.”

“About earlier?”

You nod.

Harry rests his arm on the edge of the tub, swirling his wine. “I don’t want to make this harder for you than it already is.”

“You didn’t. I’m just… a big over-thinker and this just seems unreal.”

You pause, then whisper, “I still cannot believe it.”

His eyes flick up as you part your lips, about to admit something you’ve been avoiding.

“I have someone back home. Not official. Not… fulfilling, either.” You huff out a soft laugh. “But being here, with you… it’s messing with my head.”

He watches you carefully. “Messing how?”

“Like I don’t want it to be a one-time thing,” you admit. “And I know it should be.”

There’s silence again.

Harry sets his glass aside. Moves closer until one of your legs drapes over his. He doesn’t touch you (yet) but you feel it anyway: the pull. The gravity.

“This is not a normal thing for me to do. I hope you know it,” he murmurs. “At the bar… hair all messy. Lips still swollen. Barely walking straight. You went back to your table like nothing happened… and I wanted to stop you.”

Your breath catches.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask.

“I figured if I did… you wouldn’t leave at all.”

His hand slides under the water, gentle against your thigh. He leans in.

“I’m trying to be good,” he whispers, mouth inches from yours. “But it’s hard when you’re right here. All soft and wet and lookin’ at me like that.”

You lean forward, lips barely brushing. “Then don’t be.”

That’s all it takes.

His hand finds your waist, pulling you into his lap. The water sloshes around you as he kisses you slow, filthy, wet kisses like he’s tasting memories of last night. His fingers trail between your legs beneath the bubbles, finding you already aching.

“We can’t….” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod. “Agreed. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

He lifts you gently, aligning himself beneath the waterline. You both pause, breathless, staring into each other.

“This might make things messier,” he says softly, tip sliding in inch by slow inch.

“It’s kinda too late for that, Styles.” You whisper.

He groans quietly. “Fuckin’ hell…”

And then he’s inside you—deep and slow, arms tight around your waist as your bodies adjust, like puzzle pieces fitting back together. No rushing. No hard thrusts. Just tension and softness and breathless want.

You move together like it means something. Every slow thrust feels heavier than the last, laced with guilt and longing, like you’re both clinging to something you know you shouldn’t want. But you’re only human. And so is he.

Harry’s breathing stutters as he starts to pull out, but you wrap your legs tighter around him, hips tilting up to meet his. Your release crashes over you, and the way your body clenches around him steals his restraint.

“Fuck—” he gasps, voice breaking as he spills inside you, undone by the way you take him so willingly.

Afterward, the silence is warm. You both slip into the shower, skin to skin, rinsing off the mess like it’ll make the situation cleaner than it really is. You wash his hair; he rinses yours.

There’s laughter between the soap and steam, soft smiles in between the tangle.

But neither of you say what you’re both thinking.

Because it will be too much.

Later, after a long, silent moment tangled up in bed sheets, his fingers play with your hair and he murmurs, “Stay.”

You shift. “What about tomorrow?”

“We’ll worry about that then.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You wake up before sunrise. Quietly get dressed. He watches from the bed, eyes sleepy but soft, like he’s memorizing you.

“You’re really not gonna leave your number?” He asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice, eyes following you as you pick up your bag.

You smirk over your shoulder, heart pounding.

“If you ever play a show in any city that I’m in at the moment… I’ll find you then.”

You don’t say goodbye. Just kiss him once more and leave.

You step out of the hotel lobby, heart heavier than your suitcase. The air feels thicker now—like everything that happened upstairs is already slipping away. You don’t know how you’re going to move past it… but life has a way of dragging you forward, whether you’re ready or not. Reality hits harder than his goodbye.

As you walk the quiet Tokyo streets, heading back toward your own hotel, you tell yourself this is the end.

But then your phone buzzes. You glance down— and freeze.

A blurry paparazzi photo is already making the rounds. A shadowy silhouette of a woman leaving the building where Harry Styles is ‘allegedly’ staying.

Your silhouette.

Your friends are still asleep when you return. But you?

You’re wide awake.

Still wondering what this was ever meant to be.

If it meant anything at all.

And whether Harry… even has the space in his world to wonder the same.

You try not to hope.

But fuck, it lingers.

Right there in the silence between your steps, and in the ache you carry all the way home.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

📝 Author’s Note:

DO WE LIKE IT????????? I’m sorry it turns out to be such an emotional WRECK….. (i’m just a girl 🙂‍↕️). I honestly think I still can milk this one out to be a series…. Let me know, let me know.

Ps. Thank you so much for showing so much love to the very first one “The Tension Between Us”!!!! It means so much!! I loved writing it, and I hope you’re loving it just as much. I promise I’ll never leave you hanging too long. 💌

[mary-james-world-of-shames]

Batfam as Lilo and Stitch(Revised)

So, okay, I cleaned up the idea from this post better. Where he's De-Aged Tim, with the premise being like Lilo and Stitch, of course reworked to be more fitting to each character and their relationships with one another.

So here's my whole idea, that I will never write because that's way too much work, but I think people will enjoy the idea.

Roles:

Dick as Nani

Tim as Lilo

Damian as Stitch

Jason as Jamba

Cass as Pleakley

Ra’s as Big Alien bad guy(I can’t remember his name)

Talia as the alien in charge girl(?)

Barbara as Bubbles

Steph as lover boy but it’s actually family friend gal instead. yeah.

The roles aren't strict, as I said and will explain, it'll follow along in a more character arcuate story arc. It won't be perfect, I haven't read a single comic, I'll be honest, but the idea is burning in my mind. So fuck it we ball.

So, story def opens with What’s the Norm, so we know how it fucks up.

Damian is sneaking around. We hear a conversation between Jason and Talia about how he’s been behaving recently. Jason mentions it being off, and Talia shelves it for now, assuming perhaps it’s more so something to do with puberty and growing up then anything else.

Then of course, that goes to shit, as Damian break out of the League, injuring plenty of people along the way. Jason is frustrated he couldn’t help but finds out where he’s going when looking through his room for clues. He’s found out who is father is and he wants to learn more, he also thinks Ra might use his body as a host and Damian would rather, y’know, live.

Via Ra and Talia’s agreement, Jason is assigned Cass, much to his dismay, to go and find Damian.

Cut to Dick and Tim, mostly focused on Dick but it’s more third person, we can see an insight on what’s going on with them and why they are fighting in a way.

Barbara is being Oracle and has to just. Deal with their tension. She’s frustrated but understands they’re both in mourning sort of right now. Just different stages. Tim’s in denial and Dick’s depressed. Maybe it starts with them fighting, we show how they aren’t working together well and Tim gets hurt and Dick just snaps at him, and tries to bench him because?? He can’t lose another person. But he’s too emotionally constipated to really express that to Tim. And he’s trying to take on the role of caretaker when Tim is used to him as a brother, and he was sort of unattended all his life so it feels more controlling, and frustrating to him because of it. He doesn’t understand why Dick doesn’t trust him and thinks he views him as lesser when in reality Dick is going to be sick looking at the way Tim is spiraling, reminding himself of how he was when he lost Jason, he’s terrified this is going to break or has already broken Tim and Dick cannot lose another person.

Tim goes out without Dick’s watch or permission. Barbara attempts to coax him out of it without picking sides, but tells Tim she has to tell Dick if he leaves. He scoffed her off and claims she’d picking sides. Tim meets up with Steph a little while she’s fighting and they chat some, Steph being like, “Oh hey, I thought you were benched?” And Tim gets sort of snippy with her too, although she takes it in stride, they begin to separate and Steph’s contacted by Dick, asking where Tim is, she tell him he’s just left her.

Dick is quick to catch up on Tim, while he’s in the mist of some gang bust and they argue in the middle of it. Distracting Tim just enough to get him hit and he’s Down. Like, serious down, knocked out and unconscious. Dick fucking snaps. he lets loose and nearly fucking kills a guy while he hallucinates Jason taunting him

Dick snaps out of it when small hands try to pull him away, pleading as he states Batman doesn’t kill. This reveals little Tim and Dick is just fucking struck. Because jesus Dick doesn’t remember him ever being that small. He knows he was, clearly. But damnit, he’s smaller then Jason was.

Dick takes him back to check him over, Tim lets him, but while he’s being checked Tim is like, “Well, I know you’re Nightwing, why are you dressed like Bruce? Where is Bruce?” and honestly Dick’s not even sure he has the fucking heart to tell this kid the truth. So instead he tries to figure out Tim’s current age and is just fucking struck again when he realizes this is so soon after Jason died. He forgets how Tim behaved then, but damnit. It’s so fucking different and yet the same and Dick is sick when he sees the starstruck look that Tim used to get in their early years. And fuck it hurts. It hurts to see.

Dick hates it, but Tim was robin at this time. And he actually listens. and damnit, he cannot leave Tim at home alone. He tries to and Tim is just… He doesn’t need to be alone in a big mansion anymore. And he figures after trying to bench him once Tim will just sneak out again(he will), better to have Tiny Tim in his line of sight and under his protection then have him sneaking around the shadows like he used to.

Patrol one night they find Damian fighting some guy that tried to mug him, because Dick doesn’t expect it he can’t stop the kid from killing the man and is just fucking frozen. Because like a child just killed a man. Also holy shit he looks like Bruce?? Damian recognizes Batman but is like?? You’re not fucking father, who the fuck are you? And Tiny Tim is like, well, you see, Bruce is out of commission, this is Nightwing. Damian’s like, okay, but where is my father?? And Dick like Fuck. I have to take care of another kid, don’t I?

Damian comes home with them so Dick can fix him bc why the fuck did he just kill a man?? Damian doesn’t answer a lot of questions, but he does state he is the blood son of batman, and the heir to the legacy. Tim explains Batman doesn’t kill people, so if he is he’ll have to stop doing that. One thing leads to another, and Tim and Damian agree he should be Robin as well. Have two robins out their training. However Damian is reluctant to have Tim with him, but damn the kid is so brightened by the idea of having another Robin with him. Actually he expresses his willingness to step down when Damian is ready. Which is not at all what Tim is like now. Reminding Dick that Tim never wanted to be Robin, but felt people needed him to be.

Now adays, Tim needs to be Robin just as much. He gave up everything to be Robin. He doesn’t have anything else.

Reluctantly, Dick agrees this would be the best plan so he can keep and eye on both of them. However, Barbara does not agree. Tim is young and vulnerable, and he could say things that the elder version of himself would not want to share with Dick. Plus, um?? Damian doesn’t seem too happy about sharing and is not past murder. So maybe having Tim and Damian stay together is a very bad idea. Dick mentions Tim should turn back eventually anyways, and Barbara askes him swear if he doesn’t turn back in a time limit(Three days like Lilo and Stitch maybe), then Barbara will be taking Tim. Who Tim remembers as Batgirl, so he has no problems with her.

Of course Jason is absolutely pissed to be back in Gotham, and more pissed to see his little replacement Robin running around. Even if he’s pretty sure he was told the kid was older, must have been misinformation, he doesn’t think to hard about it, because they are trying really hard to think of a way to capture Damian without alerting Tim and Dick to them being around. Jason is perfectly willing to send them both to the hospital, but Cass refuses to allow him to lay a hand on Dick or Tim. Reminding him their mission was just to bring Damian back, nothing more. and she s more then willing to face him off. Jason reluctantly realizes he can’t win against Cass, so they tick to the shadows, where Damian is perfectly aware they are. He used Tim as a human shield for the time being. Even if he did want to be rid of him before, he realizes he needs him for the time being.

Chaos ensues. Fights where Damian nearly kills more people as has to be held back by Dick or Tim, nearly killing Tim for stopping him, but remembering his human shield. Jason is wildly amused by Damian’s playing along to the “just a kid” thing. Tim and Damian get closer, as Tim talks about the Robins before him, why he became a Robin, and Bruce. Who Damian asks about a few times.

However, as all things do, things go wrong. Damian nearly ends up killing Tim, Dick snaps at him, and when Damian’s survival of the fittest training doesn’t seem to work with Dick in this case he’s just. Confused. He was raised like this his whole life, that he needs to be the best. Not to help people, even if it gives him a warm fluffy feeling when he does. Even when the tension loosens when he realizes he doesn’t have to kill people. He… Doesn’t want to kill people. Now he doesn’t have to.

Dick nearly breaks down, but realizes he can’t when Tim breaks down. Because Tim thought he was going to lose Damian, lose another Robin. He couldn’t bare it. He hates being Robin, he misses Jason, he misses Dick, he misses Bruce. He misses his parents and he’s upset that they haven’t even noticed that he’s gone and god damnit, he doesn’t want to be Robin! Being Robin hurts, and it’s hard, and he wishes someone else could do it, that it didn’t have to be him. They he had plans and a future and he might have to throw that all away for the sake of everyone else and that sucks!

He would do it, but he’s so relieved that Damian is here, they he wants to do it.

And Now Dick has an entirely different reason to want to break down. Because Tim didn’t have Damian in time. Tim did lose everything, Tim gave everything up, to be Robin. It was too late for that. When Tiny Tim becomes Tim again, he won’t want to give up Robin, because that’s all he has. Dick can’t fix that. But maybe… In some imaginary way he can. He can… Help Tiny Tim, make him feel normal, like a kid again. Like he doesn’t need to be Robin, while he has the time, he can do that. He can protect Tiny Tim from himself.

The time limit is met and Barbara comes to take Tim with her. and Dick is absolutely against it, because he just found out how awful Tiny Tim feels and it’s partly his fault. While they argue, Jason and Cass take the time to try and grab Damian. Only to fail again. And in that time, Tim and Damian alike slip away.

Ra’s is mad that there has been no progress, and decides to take matters into his own hands. Unfortunately he grabs the wrong little black haired boy, fortunately however. This kid is bright, he has fight, willpower. He has such a spirit, Ra isn’t particularly mad to have the wrong kid, but sees their is a spell on him. He wonders if he could keep it on so he can raise Tiny Tim to be even better, or turn him back and see how much better he is grown. Ra’s decides to remove the spell, and Tim is back to himself.

Damian runs back to Dick, however Jason and Cass catch him. They’re arguing enough to get Dick’s attention. Who asks where Tim is. Damian reluctantly explains, and then furthermore asks for Jason’s help. Jason is reluctant as he mostly worries about Dick finding out who he is, but relents. Dick thinks he has a mental break when he finds out Jason is ALIVE AND WELL, sort of well. And of course he is reluctant to allow Jason or Damian to fight Ra’s, worry of losing them. Cass assures him and bonding ensues while they go to rescue Tiny Tim.

However, the least expected thing was fining out in the duration that Tim is with Ra’s he’s big again, and Bruce is back. Brought back by Tim with the help of Ra’s who actually believed him. It takes the entire family, including Bruce to try and convince Tim he needs to get away from Ra’s, luckily he does. However he does confess not recalling much of being Tiny. Dick is actually sort of relieved by that but… At the same time he never got to give Tiny Tim the life he deserved. And it’s too late to undo everything done.

Dick returns to being Nightwing, Bruce to Batman, Jason says he needs to do his own thing for a while, and Cass tags along, the two get Steph to tag along too. The only problem being Tim and Damian. However, Tim agrees to help with his training. Not ready to give up Robin, but being given the time to figure out an alternative. Dick and Tim are still in a ruff patch, but they don’t scream at one another every chance they get. So look at the up side!

I don't have a strong ending idea, which is one of the reasons I won't write this, the other being I don't think I have a good enough grasp on all the characters to be able to write them in this position but i think the idea is enjoyable nonetheless.

[miumiubaek]

stay n cook ~ chef!sukuna x wife!reader

grocery list

you walk around in the women's hygiene aisle trying to find your usual brand of pads, see its interesting to play hide and seek and look for products when they change up the layout of the store but you are annoyed today for no reason.

"sukuna i need an extra pair of eyes" yuji is giggling holding onto sukuna's hair, he is placed on sukuna's shoulders. "woah yuji you grew so much you're so tall" you gasp playfully making the boy blush. "i'm the tallest, more than you more than sukuna", he exclaims and you get on your tippy toes to try and pinch his cheek affectionately. sukuna being the menace he is also gets on his tippy toes making it hard for you reach yuji. "i will start climbing you like a tree sukuna", you whisper to him "i'd love that" he whispers back.

"ohh it must have been heartbreaking" you see an old lady smiling at you. "i'm sorry?" sukuna is offended thinking she has something mean to say. she points at yuji "so much pain carrying and birthing a child for it to look like a carbon copy of the dad and nothing like you huh" she pats your back before smiling warmly at yuji waving and walking away before you could deny sukuna laughs pulling you to the other side.

You forget what the lady said as you try to check and make sure you've got everything for sukuna's meal prep today. He does not do much meal prep he likes to prepare everything fresh but he makes all the bread for the week on sundays and pickles some veggies. You are standing next to the cooler in the produce section when yuji is running to you with tears in his eyes, his nose red. "sukuna will eat me", he cries into your chest when you pick him up, as you try to reassure him that nothing like that will happen the boy slowly calms down sniffling. Yuji stays in your lap hugging you throughout the car ride back home and even after going home he makes sure you are around the vicinity. You glare at sukuna who is eyeing yuji with a smirk. "stop it you are scaring the child", you slap his chest.

Later in the day sukuna is making you some cut vegetable salad thingy and his hands are all red from the beetroot. when you are busy with your laptop he shows both his hands dripping with red liquid to yuji before dramatically licking some "children's blood tastes so good", he says "hmm?", you don't pay attention to the pale kid sitting on the high chair staring between you and your monster of a husband.

"Sukuna why did you not get pineapples, i saw some good one's", you say taking a look at all the cut fruits for tomorrow. "are you not in the mood for peeling them?", you ask picking up yuji and walking closer to where sukuna is cutting up the meat. yuji shuts his eyes not wanting to let sukuna bully him more.

"no pineapples for some time", he says you roll your eyes. "bossy", you mutter walking away from him. yuji is so relieved when his dad arrives to pick him up because he does not know when his uncle might just start chopping him up into pieces. you go to open the door and right when yuji was ready to run behind you sukuna grabs him and puts him over his shoulder like a sack of baby potatoes. "remember what i taught you, say that exactly and i will not cook you", he warns and stops you from opening the door, his brother can wait. "yuji has something to say", he says looking at the little boy in his arms. "i'm bored playing with you", you gasp lightly, your hand to your chest - always the dramatic one, sukuna cannot help but roll his eyes. "i would love if there was a little baby around to play", he says in a rush before jumping out of sukuna's hands. you are stunned when sukuna opens the door, you send off yuji with a kiss on his cheek and sukuna whispers something in his ear making him giggle. you do not utter a word and rush to your laptop.

"honey", sukuna strokes your hair, you are lying on your bed that is the perfect size for you both, you made sure its not too big so you won't drift away from each other in your sleep. Your head is on his chest and you can feel his rythmic heart beating a bit faster now. "did i put you in an awkward position today? i'm sorry", he uses a finger to push your chin up so he can see your face. "no no its just that... i know we did not exactly talk about children but... what if i don't want any", you says your expression shows how nervous you are and sukuna chuckles. "more of you for me, i don't mind if you and me are the only people in the world", he says and your eyes well up. "but you like yuji" "i do, maybe that kid can stay", he says leaning down to peck your lips. "what the madam says goes, ok?", you melt in his touch and words. "maybe..." you hide your face in his chest. "we can try after this month", you say voice muffled. "he is surprised you can literally feel his heart skip a beat. "you are really ok with that? don't do it for my sake i hate children anyway i'm only doing it because its with you", he babbles but you pinch him to stop. "i want to.. really", he chuckles. "i have to add more fibre, calcium and iron to your diet he sits up and your head falls off his chest making you grumble. he leans over to his bedside table and takes out a small container. he slams it into your hand "two tablets a day, lets start with one and increase it to two" "what the hell is this", you read the label. Folic acid tablets. "when did you even get these? were you planning this?", you shout and he smirks "rights after the old lady called that brat our child, imagine me you and our baby girl going grocery shopping", he says with a sigh pulling you back to his chest and stroking your hair. "baby girl? like you know already", you raise a brow. "i know" "what if we have twins", you challenge. "two girls then", he says making you giggle.

you are both almost asleep when you suddenly remembered yuji's crying face. "kuna what did you say to yuji, why was he crying", you ask plopping your chin on his chest, so you can get a better look at his face. "we were in line, he heard my stomach growl and laughed at me, i just told him i'm hungry enough to eat a child and brat started crying, weakling", there is a grin on his face like he is reliving the exact moment. you slap his chest trying to control your laugh. "you're such a meanie, i hope our girls bully you", you say and sukuna sucks in a breath "i hope they do", he says and you can't help but kiss him crazy.

Masterlist

A/N: chef!sukuna is so juno by sabrina carpenter coded

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 126

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

With my delivery of hojicha my delivery of matcha arrived!

I really like this matcha- I may order it again in the future. The only thing i didn't like was that it came in a pouch instead of a tin (it's harder to get out).

With the chapter today I broke out some of the matcha!

And now, let's get into chapter 126!

Wait a second! Why is Hua Cheng acting so mean? p29

Honestly that was my thought too. Jun Wu definitely also knows Hua Cheng's verbal password. p30

Oh. That makes sense about Xie Lian not getting stabbed. That was the worst day of both (hualian's) their lives and Hua Cheng probably doesn't want to relive it. p31

Damn why is Mu Qing running away! p33

When I first read about the empty shell people, I didn't think they could move lol. Here this one is paddling through lava and getting pissed at Xie Lian p34

Oh shit, did Mu Qing survive the lava??? p35

omg. Okay. He's alive for now! p36

Jeeze the reversed fate, "You know I'm not lying, right?" p37

Man if this is Mu Qing's death, then it will be the worst one in the series I think. I low key feel bad for him, even if he is working with Jun Wu. p40

Yay! Xie Lian got him! Also- yay for breaking the trauma cycle here. Xie Lian could have returned the energy Mu Qing sent his way all those years ago instead of saving him. p41

I love how Hua Cheng fully doesn't care if anyone lives or dies UNLESS gege cares about it. p45

oh damn! Xie Lian's been snatched! p45

omg! all of them (minus feng xin I think) are heading towards the lava pool!!!!! STRESS! p46

This chapter ending aged me

I can't, I need a resolution LOL. Please let them make it out of this. My heart cannot handle any part of Hualian burning to death.

[aotopmha]

I don’t know if you are still answering questions about your takes with AoT and observations of the fandom. I just wanted to ask about if you’ve noticed this fandom reaction as well. I finished watching AoT some weeks ago and was surprised when I checked about people’s complaints about the ending. I wasn’t really sure myself about the twist about Eren becoming the villain, but I did find it compelling in certain ways. I thought many fans would hate that, but instead I got the impression most fans who hated the ending actually hated Eren breaking down at the end and admitting to not knowing what he was doing and not killing 100% of humanity outside of Paradis. It’s like many fans preferred Eren to be a “strong and wrong” chad fascist man rather than a kid who was driven to madness and despair who knows what he is doing is wrong but cannot help it (and a sick part of him deep down wants to do it). This shows that the genocidal monster isn’t who he truly is, but what destiny and perhaps guided by the entirety of Eldian intergenerational trauma with Ymir, wants him to be. It’s hard for me to imagine the adorable but mentally unstable boy we cared about for three seasons just completely succumb to evil like that.

Oh yeah, all asks are welcome all of the time.

It just takes a while for me to get to them sometimes and I was away from AoT specifically for a bit.

Yeah, that's 100% it. A section of people just hated the ending because the story ended with Eren dropping his facade.

I think it might still be my favourite part of it because of how it rips apart the fascist idea of the cult of personality.

One of the cornerstones of fascist ideology is a central infallible personality to rally around and particularly the ones who subscribe to those ideologies really, really don't like it when the truth of their humanity is laid bare.

Eren isn't an infallible god-like figure here to save humanity, he's a stupid angry child who wanted to dismantle an oppressive system so noone had to suffer its consequences anymore, but went about it in the only way he saw to be right, which happened to involve destroying the world.

And looking at the historical and modern membership of fascist movements, it's for the most part made up of stupid and/or angry men who need a scapegoat for their personal issues/suffering (which sometimes is very valid, which is why the movements can be so effective).

I think the story ultimately posits that unintelligent and rash decisions aren't going to dismantle a long-standing oppressive system without a lot of damage, but as I'm also realising on my revisit, that oppressive systems can not truly be defeated by throwing away your human connections.

And I think the ending also irks the more left-leaning people who think revolution is the be-all-end-all solution to all of the world's issues, when history shows it's often just a stepping stone of many sacrifices dotting the way.

For the same group, the refusal to completely disvow Eren by the narrative and characters can be seen as an endorsement of his actions.

(This is the part I've personally been thinking about a bunch. Even with the anime changes, was the story too sympathetic towards Eren?)

I think it pisses off a bunch of groups because it's an imperfect answer by someone who is clearly working through these ideas themselves.

For example, it can also be seen as a shutdown of revolutions in general.

If the sacrifice is so great, to the point it might destroy the world, why try to change it at all?

But then, during my current rewatch, I was reminded of just how consistent the mantra of "If you can't sacrifice anything, you can't achieve anything" is and I think this is just taking that principle to its biggest picture negative conclusion.

It's limited by Eren's tunnel visioned perspective rather than portrayed as something to not strive for at all because of the potential consequences.

Also, not sure about the phrasing of "adorable" and "completely succumb to evil" because to me it feels like it downplays what Eren did, but Eren being a little shit is a really important part of the series to me in hindsight because it also deconstructs the idea of a "perfect soldier" (Reiner is the more literal commentary of this, same for any of the irrational decisions especially Mikasa and Levi made).

Marley's soldier statue is hollow because there is no perfect hero to follow.

In the end our "heroes" all had to kill a bunch of people to get where they needed to get, still didn't completely disvow Eren because of personal reasons and the strongest conclusion reached was that they had to make the best of what Eren gave them.

The military isn't the perfect protector of the people, it's made up of people who happen to be irrational actors susceptible to corruption and driven by their personal experiences.

Thank you for the ask!

[lsd-astronaut]

Doctor!Faramir x Vampire!Éowyn

Chapter 1: Farewells & Welcomes

Coming back from the dead with a new work! It's my first time writing Farawyn and a multichapter fic so please be nice T_T

February 14, 1666

My dear little brother,

It is with a heavy heart that I must announce that our mother left for the Heavens just a few hours before I pen you this letter. Sir Wynn, her physician, said there was naught that could be done for her at this stage of the disease, which has already claim’d so many innocent lives in His Majesty’s divine kingdom.

I am aware that you were very close to each other, but I think it convenient to advise you against travelling all the way here from your current abode on the other side of the Channel. Father has withdrawn into himself and is more irritable than ever, if that is even possible. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I enclose a memento from her in this missive, so you might still remember her.

Your humble older brother,

Boromir.

Faramir’s expression soured as his eyes scanned the beautiful loops that characterized his brother’s penmanship. It was a skill that had been beaten in both of them by the best private tutors their father could find, yet the results were evident in only one of the siblings, the other too distracted with his books and fantasies to focus enough.

If the date at the top of the letter was anything to go by, his mother had died a little more than three months ago. He applauded Boromir’s kind advice, but he would not have been able to attend the funeral no matter how much he had wanted to. The perks of living in a remote mountain village, so close he was to the Alps.

It seemed another bout of the plague had sprouted in London, and this time the hand of death had enclosed around his mother’s throat. The family had been lucky to avoid getting infected in the past, although both his stiff right hand and now the cold corpse of his mother were grim reminders that even fortune is bound to run out one day. It wasn’t as if Faramir could do anything about the events unfolding in England, so far beyond the horizon it felt like another world to him, one where he wasn’t welcome anymore. He crumpled the letter in his fist and threw it in the fireplace with a decisive flick of his wrist.

Morning stretched its languid tendrils through the windows of his small cottage, signalling yet another day of work in the nameless village that had been the doctor’s home for the last five years. Faramir looked at the hastily scribbled list of patients he had to check up, and bit the inside of his cheek as the gears in his mind moved with due speed and precision. Deciding on the route for the day, the doctor folded the note carefully and slipped into his front pocket before grabbing the leather suitcase with all he needed to work.

Not a few steps across the beaten path that connected his house with the quaint village, and he was already being stopped by a group of villagers, who seemed a mix of wary, concerned, and at times, outright hostile.

“Is something the matter, good people? I was just about to go through my daily check-ins. I will get to you all, I only must ask for your patience.” Faramir said in his usual gentle voice.

One of the men huffed. “It is not us that need it, doctor. You must not have heard it, so far away you live from the main square. Last night, two strangers arrived. They speak a strange language, and we cannot make ourselves understood. Seeing as you are such a knowledgeable man, we thought it wise to ask you for help and interpretation.”

“And wise you were, indeed, Monsieur Jacques. If it’s alright to you, I would like to meet these outsiders.”

The villagers seemed eager to comply, for they surrounded and guided him to the square where the biggest building of the village stood. Faramir entered the inn, and didn’t take too long to find the outsiders that had lay the village in disarray.

At first glance, one could immediately surmise the two were family, perhaps siblings. Both had long hair that curled slightly at the ends, and shone blonde as if melted gold. The lady had shrewd brown eyes that betrayed the nobility which now that he noticed, their bodies exuded with their posture, even despite their travel-worn clothes.

The man fixed a stern glance at Faramir and snarled some pointed words in a language that the doctor took some seconds to realize was Romanian. Clearing his throat, Faramir asked, “Do you speak English, gentlemen?” The lady’s eyes widened, and light illuminated her face as a grin stretched across it.

“Yes, we do!” She turned to the other man. “Finally, someone who understands us, brother!” The man simply hummed, crossed his arms, and leaning back, looked at Faramir with a clear defiant look in his eyes.

“May I ask your names?” At this, the man snorted and haughtily responded. “Isn’t it good manners in this backward village to introduce yourself before demanding it from your guests?”

Faramir could only thank God that the villagers didn’t understand even the barest of English words, or there would have already been blood, or perhaps a fire if given enough time. Breathing in and out once, the doctor acquiesced to the man’s demand.

“The name given to me at the time of my birth was Faramir.” And with a pointed look, he added. “And your name?”

The lady giggled, a sound that stirred something very deep inside Faramir’s stomach, although that could also be a reminder from his body that he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. “My name is Éowyn, and my brother here is called Éomer.”

[senatortedcruz]

Donald Trump has done something truly terrible to my 401k

[monsterqueers]

Hey if people are thinking of 'stockpiling HRT' and you are doing it with Testosterone, be aware that is a controlled substance and doing this WILL GET YOU A FELONY CHARGE IF YOU ARE CAUGHT (and it would be very easy for this to happen through the way those posts reccomend).

Its your decision if you want to risk imprisonment (and then definitely losing hrt access), but be aware of the serious consequences- especially if you are recommending this to people!

If you do this with E, you get a slap on the wrist. If you do this with T its a felony. A felony charge deeply effects everything you do. Its not just hard to DYI T, its MANY TIMES LEGALLY RISKIER AND HARDER.

[tennessoui]

cackling at the idea of anakin blurting out #27

very anakin fr

[from this prompt game!] [i've already done: 5. 'are you jealous?' & 46. 'hey have you seen my...?'

27. "I'm pregnant."

The minor princess currently touching Anakin's forearm has spent all night toeing the line between friendly and polite politician who feels understandably starstruck around two retired war generals on her tiny inconsequential planet and wants to ensure they enjoy the dance held in their honor and too friendly entitled princess who needs to back off, seeing as Anakin is a very happily taken man whose beloved is standing literally right next to him.

It's giving Anakin a headache, trying to discern her motive and trying to figure out a way to make it quite clear he has no interest in any sort of recreational pastime with her in any sort of unofficial capacity without causing some sort of galactic incident.

He'd promised his master and the Council: no more Galactic Incidents, at least until the next calendar year.

It doesn't help matters that Obi-Wan, who should be the most upset if this minor princess is really trying to lure Anakin into a dark corner for nefarious reasons, is doing nothing to aid him in this trying time. Even though they've made it quite clear to each other over the past six months that they're in an exclusive, loving, committed relationship that has no room whatsoever for princesses of any kind.

Maybe that's the problem, Anakin thinks morosely as the princess flags down a passing waiter and lifts two flutes of wine from his tray. Maybe Anakin's made Obi-Wan too secure in his love, and now he thinks all he has to do in these situations is stand there with his arms at his sides, smirking slightly and looking gorgeous.

"Anakin?" the princess prompts, offering the drink. Automatically, and for no reason Anakin can think of except for long forgotten instinct, he glances at Obi-Wan first, as if asking for permission from his father. As if he's not twenty-four years old, a war general, a Jedi Master, etcetera.

When Obi-Wan just inclines his head with glittering eyes and that damned smirk only partially hidden behind his own raised glass of wine, Anakin almost accepts the princess's offer. Because she's definitely offering much more than just a drink. Maybe she even dosed that drink with--with something. Something to make him more agreeable or pliable or--Anakin doesn't know. But something serious enough to wipe that smirk from the corner of Obi-Wan's stupidly kissable lips, that's for sure.

But then he looks back at the princess and categorizes instantly in his mind all the ways she is not his beloved, and he decides that despite Obi-Wan's general ability to be an ass, the last thing he wants to do is take the drink. Or, truly, remain in this conversation.

"Oh, no thank you," he tells her politely.

He remembers a second later when her eyebrows fly up her forehead and her mouth pinches into a tight, aristocratic line, that on this planet it is considered incredibly rude to reject a gift of any sort.

And he'd promised No Galactic Incidents.

"I'm pregnant," he adds. "So I cannot. Partake. Though it looks good. I mean, beautiful. I mean. I'm pregnant. Yes."

The princess's eyebrows fly higher. Beside him, Obi-Wan coughs rather violently. Due to swallowing his drink wrong or to hide a burst of laughter, Anakin doesn't know.

"Oh," the princess says. "I...was under the impression that humanoid males cannot carry offspring."

Anakin clears his throat and crosses his arms behind his back. He wonders if it'll be a more believable fiction should he place his hands over his abdomen, then he thinks about anyone seeing that ever and decides he'd rather lose his other flesh one to a lightsaber all over again.

"I'm from a desert planet in the Outer Rim, your highness," he tells her. " Tatooine, if you have heard of it. Many species there have evolved special biological traits over time to ensure survival. This is one of them. You understand, of course."

He isn't even sure the words he's saying make any sort of sense at all, and Obi-Wan has gone from being absolutely no help to being an incredible hinderance instead, standing completely silent next to him and Force signature blocked from their bond.

"Oh," the princess blinks and then blinks again. "I apologize, of course. I did not realize."

"You could not have," Anakin assures her, kindly in his opinion, and she makes herself scare only a handful of minutes later. Apparently as much as she'd appreciate bedding a war hero, she draws the line at bedding one with child.

This realization is enough to make Anakin wonder if perhaps he should pocket the excuse for the next time he's at one of these affairs and fighting for his life. After all, his lover has proven himself to be incredibly useless.

Speaking of which:

"Hope you enjoyed that," he mutters to Obi-Wan as he turns his back on the ballroom to glare more fully at his master. "Thanks so much for your support."

Obi-Wan blinks guilelessly at him, lifting his drink to take another sip. Purposeful now, probably. To show off that he can drink to soothe his nerves while Anakin won't be able to touch the stuff for the rest of the night.

"Please, have patience with me, Anakin love," Obi-Wan says. "I've just found out that I am to be a father. I'm in shock."

Anakin tightens his hold on his wrists behind his back. It's either that or shove his most beloved into the buffet table.

[jammatown919]

Thinking about Sammy being so messed up about Brooklynn's death that she literally hallucinates seeing Brooklynn in her house.

Didn't blame her before, but especially with this, absolutely cannot fault her at all for the way she responds after going through that and then not only learning that she grieved for nothing, but the person she misses so much rejected her help, won't come home, and won't apologize. Like what do you mean I missed you so bad I HALLUCINATED YOU and you won't come home???? Or talk to me????? Or give me any sign that you give a singular fuck about what I'm going through because of you????? And now all my issues with my girlfriend are coming back to the surface and she's putting YOU first and now we can't talk to each other??????? And now I've got one solid friend and one practically stranger on my side because everyone else is going after you and leaving me behind AGAIN????????

Like obviously I think she'll forgive Brooklynn in the end, and she'll probably come to understand to a degree that Brooklynn was trying to keep the others safe by keeping them at a distance, but right now? From her perspective? Completely justified in her anger.