#lol i refuse to tag anything properly

[cece693]

Could I request some Hannigram for a reader who operates on a backwards schedule? Like eating breakfast at 9pm and dinner at 7am.

Anytime they’re seen during the daytime they just look exhausted, lol

My Morning vs. Your Night

pairing: hannigram x gender neutral reader tags: hannigram are worried, your job is vague so it's up to your interpretation, you look dead and are exhausted, caring hannigram

You didn’t mind the hours at first. Working through the night suited your quiet nature, and the city seemed more peaceful under fluorescent lights and moonlit streets. You liked the dark, the hush it carried, and the way no one needed anything from you except your job’s unrelenting demands. But even you had to admit it was taking a toll.

You could feel your body fraying at the edges. Nights had become days—your sun rose while others slept, and your “good morning” was usually a mumbled greeting at 7 p.m. Then, when the world was waking up, you were crawling under the blankets.

Will was the first to notice the strain. He always noticed things—something about the way your eyes lost their usual spark, the way your head would loll forward in the middle of conversation. He’d be sitting at the kitchen table, feeding the dogs in the early morning, while you stumbled into the house just before dawn. His brows would crease in that concerned way, the same gentle worry he wore when coaxing stray animals to trust him.

Hannibal, in contrast, observed you more subtly. He measured the dark circles under your eyes, the slump in your posture. He noted the times you arrived too late or too early for a meal, rummaging for breakfast at nine in the evening. He witnessed how exhaustion made you forget to eat proper dinners, your last substantial meal too many hours in the past. Their worry was shared—spoken in Will’s gentle voice and in Hannibal’s carefully worded suggestions.

Hannibal was a blur of precision as he artfully arranged your plate—a culinary masterpiece that qualified as breakfast by your schedule. Hash browns with a fried egg, a delicate drizzle of sauce that smelled faintly of herbs. He placed the plate in front of you, leaning in with an elegant posture. “You must eat,” he said softly, voice like silk on porcelain. “Your body needs care even if your hours are reversed.”

You tried to give him a small smile of gratitude, but your eyes slid closed for just a moment of rest. It felt like even blinking took more energy than you had. “I am eating,” you replied, forcing cheer into your tone. You sank your fork into the food, and as always, it was divine. This didn’t escape your notice, but your taste buds and Hannibal’s cooking had begun to take a backseat to pure fatigue.

Will hovered by your side. He still wore a sweater with a few dog hairs clinging to the sleeves, and the usual shadows of his own weariness had nothing on the purple bruises beneath your eyes. “I’m worried about you,” he said, gently patting your shoulder. “This isn’t healthy. You’re coming home in the morning and not even sleeping properly. You hardly rest before you go back out again.”

Your gaze shifted to him, and your heart clenched at the genuine concern carved into his expression. “It’s just the nature of the work,” you said quietly. “I can’t exactly turn it down. They need me.” Will exhaled, and Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder as if reminding him to tread carefully.

A week later, the inevitable crash came. Maybe it was a double shift that turned into a triple. Maybe it was the pounding headache that refused to relent. You wound up driving home while the sun was already high in the sky—past 7 a.m., well into your typical “dinnertime,” but you’d missed all your usual signals.

You stumbled into the house, tears of frustration threatening to fall. You kicked off your shoes, ignoring the annoyed whine of your tired muscles, and almost collapsed in the foyer.

Will was there in an instant, arms catching you around the waist. “Whoa, easy,” he said, voice thick with concern. “Let me help you—just breathe.”

Hannibal appeared like a shadow, as swift as a heartbeat, pressing a gentle hand to your forehead. You saw the flicker of alarm in his eyes. You must have looked truly terrible. Your eyelids fluttered, the world turning blurry. “I’m so tired,” you mumbled, as if your exhaustion was something new and shocking.

Will and Hannibal exchanged a look above your hunched form, and Will gently scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the couch. You sank into it like a wilted flower. Before you could register it, Hannibal disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. No one spoke until you took a few sips, water dribbling down your chin. Your hands shook so hard it was difficult to hold the glass.

Then Hannibal, with a low, steady voice, said, “We can’t watch you do this to yourself any longer.”

Will nodded. “We talked about it and we think you should quit this job. Please. For your own sake.”

It wasn’t an easy decision. You’d put so much into this job. But you remembered all those times you nearly passed out at your desk, times you neglected meals, the nights you promised Will you’d be home by dawn only to arrive in the bright glare of midday. So you stood in your supervisor’s office the next afternoon (evening, by your internal clock) and handed over your resignation. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—fear, relief, regret, and anticipation. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a proper sunrise while wide awake.

Stepping out of that building for the last time, you felt lighter. Your phone buzzed with a waiting text from Will:

We’re so proud of you. Come home safe.

It took a while to reset your routine. At first, you still found yourself awake at bizarre hours—your stomach growling at midnight, craving what it had learned to call breakfast. But now, when you emerged from the bedroom at odd times, you were greeted by Will in the living room, dozing lightly, as though waiting for you. Hannibal often had a small snack prepared, an elegant amuse-bouche to tide you over while your body adjusted.

Some nights, Hannibal would read aloud from a book of poetry while you rested your head in Will’s lap, focusing on the cadence of Hannibal’s voice to soothe your restless mind. Will’s fingers combed absently through your hair, grounding you. Slowly, you found yourself drifting off earlier and waking closer to what most people called “morning.” You’d have breakfast around nine—actual nine in the morning. Will smiled at you over a cup of coffee, and Hannibal offered you a plate of fresh fruit and delicate pastries.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had breakfast with both Will and Hannibal in natural morning light. It felt surreal, a luxury you hadn’t realized you’d been missing for so long. The kitchen was bathed in a gentle glow from the rising sun, and for once, you didn’t have to squint against it, half-conscious from a grueling shift.

“How do you feel?” Will asked, sliding you a cup of tea.

You paused, steam rising into your face, the warmth of the mug cupped in your hands. “I feel…rested.” The word sounded alien, but it made you laugh a little. “I forgot what that was like.”

Hannibal, perched elegantly across from you, inclined his head. “It is good to see color in your cheeks again. You have a natural glow this morning.”

Will’s foot nudged yours under the table, an affectionate gesture. “Not that you aren't handsome/beautiful, of course,” he teased in his soft, playful way, “but you did look like a ghost for a while there.”

A shy laugh escaped you, and you reached across to squeeze his hand briefly. “It’s strange, but i’m glad I quit.”

“Good,” Hannibal responded, his smile as subtle as ever. “Because your well-being is paramount. To both of us.” A comfortable silence settled among the three of you. It was only broken by the quiet clink of silverware on plates and the soft hum of the dogs in the next room. You took in the moment, letting your shoulders relax in a way they hadn’t in ages. The day stretched ahead of you—not night, not the sleepless hours, but a real day full of possibilities and the promise of healthy routines. Will winked at you before biting into a piece of toast, and Hannibal sipped his coffee with measured elegance.

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [4]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: dudes i have so many chapters pre-written! be ready for consistency (lol)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma let me know if you'd like to added!

Tonight was the night. 

You’re sure of it.

The decision was made pretty clear to you that night at the arcade. Just two days ago, Sukuna had finalized what you’d feared to be true—he didn’t care about you anymore. And honestly, maybe he never had. 

You’re not sure.

You don’t know what would possess him to date you in the first place if he was never interested in you, but you also don’t understand how, regardless of how he felt, a person could be so cruel to another. You don’t think you’re perfect, of course you aren’t but you don’t think you deserved any of the crap you put up with because of him. 

You should’ve realized it the second you caught him cheating—no, you should’ve realized sooner. All those months spent walking around him like you were on eggshells, afraid that the slightest action would make him react poorly to you. All the times he’d let his friends be cruel to you without saying a word to defend you. All the times he’d ditched you for someone else.

Him cheating on you was just the cherry on top.

You’d been silly to think you’d be able to make him like you again.

You’d been silly to think he even deserved a second chance in the first place. 

It wasn’t about you being good enough or not–it wasn’t about being clingy or undesirable or anything of the sort. You deserved better. And you refused to let him walk all over you any longer.

Because when you think about Gojo’s soft hands on you and the way he’d teased you and yet there had been no malice behind it, you’re warmed at the thought of a guy being so charming to you.

Because when you think about Geto’s concerned eyes and the way he’d given you his hoodie and walked you home, you’re eased at the thought of a guy being so gentle to you.

Sure, it’s maybe a little silly and sure, neither of them probably meant anything by it — nonetheless, though, their actions are sweet and kind and reassuring to you that you don’t need to put up with some guy who can’t even break up with you properly if he doesn’t like you.

And it’s that that stills your nerves the second you reach Sukuna’s apartment door.

You think of when Geto had dropped you off at home, the both of you slowing to a stop just outside your front door.

“This is me.”

Geto nods, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he lets his eyes wander across your house before settling back on you. “Cute,” he smiles teasingly. Your cheeks warm at his words, looking back at your tiny little house that you share with your parents; you weren’t a very wealthy family but the three of you made it work and truthfully, it was enough for you.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head. You move to cross your arms over your chest, before you remember you’re still wearing his sweater.

The decision that comes to your mind's made in a split second.

“Would you like to come in?”

Geto pauses, eyes widening in disbelief as he glances over at you.

“I-I mean…” You stammer, the realization of what you’d just asked and how it came out sinking in as you mentally curse yourself for being so utterly stupid. “I mean… I can wash your hoodie for you and then you don’t have to wait until Monday?” Then, another thought occurs to you. “U-Unless you have so-something to do and don’t have the time which then, I totally–”

“Sure.”

You’re left with your hands in front of you, frantic like you tend to get when you’re nervous, blinking over at Geto as he nods. He takes a step forward and then walks past you, calling over his shoulder; “are your parents home?”

Snapping yourself out of your stupor, you spin to face him, racing past him and up the steps of your front porch while reaching for your keys. “No,” you answer somewhat shakily. “My mom usually stays late at her job and my dad works two weeks on and then seven days off so I don’t see him until his week off.”

Lips parting, Geto calls out a hum of understanding just as you unlock your door, stepping in before opening the door wider for him to step in after. You meet his eyes briefly before closing the door behind him, offering him a pair of slippers to swap out for his shoes and taking a moment to watch as he wanders into the living room, eyes glancing curiously.

“Did-Did you want anything to drink?” You ask, slipping off your own shoes before sliding your feet into your pink slippers.

“No,” he calls back, voice somewhat distant.

You nod even though he can’t see you, calling over your shoulder that you’re going to change, quickly shower and put his hoodie in the wash right away. Geto hums out in response and then you’re making your way down the hall, opening the door to your room. You pause just briefly, glancing over your shoulders at the door before shutting it behind you with a soft click. You make sure to be quick, not wanting to waste Geto’s time, unzipping his hoodie and sitting it against your bed before taking off your blouse and letting that fall to the floor. You grab a baggy t-shirt from your dresser and make your way to the bathroom connected to your room.

Your shower is quick–you mainly just want to get all the sticky residue from the soda off of you. The second you’re done, you step out, drying yourself off before slipping back on the skirt you’d been wearing before, along with your underwear and bra and then draping the baggy shirt over yourself.

You take your towel, your blouse and Geto’s hoodie and step out of your room, making your way further down at the hall before entering the final room on the right. You start the load right away, ignoring the nerves that bubble up in your chest as you finally make your way back to the living room/kitchen.

“The wash should only take forty minutes and then I’ll dry it right after so you don’t—”

You pause the second you see Geto standing against the far wall of the living room, a picture frame in his hands.

Glancing over your shoulder, Geto grins; “you were an adorable little girl.”

Face hot, you scramble, crossing the distance between the both of you and frantically yanking the photo from his hands. Geto lets you with a simple laugh, it grows in volume the second you hug the photo to your chest, turning away from him.

“It’s not that embarrassing.”

“Yes it is,” you pout up at him. “My parents insist on keeping this stupid photo even though I look horrendous.”

Geto just shakes his head. “You look cute. Especially with your little pig-tails.”

Glowering at him, you huff; “shut it. I’d like to see a photo of you when you were younger and see how fashionable you were then.”

“Okay,” Geto shrugs. “I’ll show you someday.”

It’s not the response you’re expecting. Not at all. Stunned, you turn to face him, lips parting as he smiles down at you warmly. The expression on his face is clear – he means it.

“O-oh, well—”

You’re cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jumping, you spin around only to see your mom making her way in, the frame still clutched tightly against your chest as you freeze, Geto doing the same behind you—both of you oddly feeling embarrassed like you’d been caught doing something embarrassing when all you’d been doing is talking.

Geto’s cheeks are pink as he pushes his face into his shirt, trying to hide.

“M-mom!”

Blinking, your mom pauses by the door, meeting your eyes before glancing back at Geto who stands behind you. She blinks once or twice more before she smiles, somewhat nervously; “honey, who’s this?”

You remember then your mom doesn’t know who Geto is and you didn't tell her you were bringing someone over.

“O-oh,” you stutter, mind racing as you glance back at Geto who meets your gaze back. “This is—”

“Geto Suguru,” Geto answers for you, stepping past you swiftly to offer a hand to your mother. She seems surprised at first but her features ease into a warm smile, eyes shining as she shakes Geto’s hand in response. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Damn. you didn’t know Geto could be that smooth.

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” your mother beams. “Are you a friend of my daughters? I assumed that she’d still be out on her date.”

Tensing, a flash of Sukuna laughing at you comes to mind.

That’s right… you’d forgotten in the midst of everything with Geto.

“It was more like a hangout with friends,” Geto explains swiftly. “I offered to walk her home. That’s all.”

Your mother takes the explanation with ease. “Oh. What a gentleman!”

Geto just laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. You watch as the bun he normally holds his longer hair in loosens somewhat and for a brief moment, you have a burning desire to see it loose around his shoulders.

You blink yourself out of that thought quick.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Suguru? I’m making some miso soup for dinner.”

“No that’s okay,” Geto brushes off gently. “I should really be heading home.”

Finally finding the courage to speak up, you rush forward; “but your hoodie!”

Your mother just glances at you confused but Geto shakes his head, smiling at you; “just give it to me on Monday,” he waves your concern away, moving to put back on his shoes. The second they’re on, he turns to your mother; “it was lovely to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N.” Then, his eyes fall on you and you freeze, confused by how piercing his gaze is. “I’ll see you Monday.”

You nod, numbly, and then he’s opening the door, offering one more wave before making his way out.

And you stand there for a moment longer, confused by the racing of your heart.

“Well,” your mother sings with a knowing look. “He was certainly handsome, wasn’t he?”

It was only Sunday, so you haven’t returned his hoodie to him yet… oddly, you found yourself excited.

A buzz pulls you from your thoughts and you come to the startling realization that you’ve been standing in front of Sukuna’s door, practically daydreaming about Geto. Slapping your cheeks lightly, you shake your body, pulling your phone from your pocket, smiling when you see it’s a text from Shoko.

Of course, you’d called her yesterday telling her what you planned on doing and she’d been more than ecstatic — given that this is something she’s been waiting for since when you and Sukuna practically started dating, you knew she had to be the first one you told. She’d expressed how proud she was of you and how she expected to hear every little detail Monday.

She was just texting you to wish you luck; 

hope you make him cry :))) he deserves it!

Then, following that, she texts; 

seriously tho, good luck. call me if he’s mean and ill come beat him up

Laughing softly to yourself, you’re quick to reply with a thanks and a joke about making him cry in return. Once it’s sent, you move to put your phone away, figuring you should actually get on with it instead of just standing out here like a freak — it would be the worst if he opened the door and caught you.

But, just as you move to turn your phone off, another text buzzes in.

And it’s not Shoko.

It’s Gojo.

What’re you doing?? 

Brows furrowing, you step back, moving so you’re not so obnoxiously in front of his door and move to reply.

About to break up with my boyfriend

Well, might as well be honest.

Why?

Gojo’s reply comes a second later.

Oh??? 0_0

Biting your lip, you snort.

Yup. 

Did you need something?

This time, his reply takes a bit longer. Your brows furrow when you see the speech bubble pop up and disappear a few time before finally, his message comes through; 

Nope! Good luck :P

Well… that was odd.

Thanks?

Gojo doesn’t reply after that. A few more minutes of waiting and you realize he’s moved on, you finally pocket your phone once again, eyes turning towards the door to Sukuna’s apartment. It was now or never–no more stalling or daydreaming… you needed to do this.

Taking one sharp inhale, you knock against the door. A few seconds pass and you hear footsteps approaching, and you expect it to be his little brother that opens the door (since it usually was), but to your surprise, it’s Sukuna.

His eyes narrow when he sees it’s you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks gruffly, and you take in the fact that he’s shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Fuck… you forgot that how attractive he was.

No! Focus Y/N! Focus!

Shaking your head, you meet his gaze head on. “Is anyone home?”

Confused, Sukuna just raises a brow. “No? The idiots out with his friends.”

“Perfect,” you smile, stepping in without giving him the chance to argue otherwise. Your name leaves his lips in annoyance but you just ignore him, forcing yourself past him and moving so you’re standing in the living room, facing him with a small smile.

Huffing, Sukuna shuts the door with a somewhat aggressive slam before coming to stand in front of you.

“So?” He growls, “what is it?”

Straightening your back, you meet his eyes. “We’re over.”

There’s a beat of silence, it lasts for a second, then another, before a mocking laugh bubbles from Sukuna’s throat. “What?”

Stealing your nerves, you nod. “I’m breaking up with you,” you explain, voice tight. “I thought it would be right for me to do it in person rather than over text.”

The amusement fades from Sukuna’s face and he genuinely looks shocked when he realizes you’re serious; “you’re… actually breaking up with me?”

“Yes,” you assure, taking extra care to keep your arms next to you and not hug yourself out of comfort. You’re nervous, you’re positive you’re shaking, but you focus on making your voice as even and confident as possible. “That was all I wanted to say. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ll be going now.”

And you move to leave, but his hand wraps around your upper arm, halting your movements. His grip is tight, fingers pinching into your skin and you freeze.

“You must be joking,” he practically growls, and your eyes fall on him in surprise. “There’s no way you’re actually trying to break up with me right now.”

Swallowing thickly, you try to pull your arm out of his grip to no avail. “Yes, I am.”

His grip tightens, turning painful and a cry leaves your lips. The shock quickly twists into fear and you stare at Sukuna in disbelief. 

“You? Break up with me?”

“Yes,” you ground out, trying to ignore the fear. “Now. Let go.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Sukuna shifts and then his free hand is grabbing your other arm and he’s pushing you back, forcing you to stumble backwards as you try not to stumble over your own feet.

“Sukuna! Let go!”

“No. Shut up and listen.” He growls, and the harshness of his tone surprises you, body freezing as his grip tightens further–you’re sure there’s going to be bruises there tomorrow. “You don’t get to break up with me. Not you.”

“What-What are you even talking about?” You gasp, confused, baffled and worst of all, afraid. You thought you’d been so brave coming in here and breaking up with him. You thought you’d finally decided to stop letting him walk all over you and yet, here you are, terrified and stumbling over your words. “D-Don’t you hate me? Why… Why else would you kiss Mei Mei?”

And Sukuna freezes, body stilling as his eyes zone in on you. “You saw that?”

“I-I…” Forcing yourself to calm down, you nod; “I did.”

Sukuna laughs at that. “And you still ate lunch with me? You still decided to go on that date with me?”

Bewildered, you shake your head. “I was—”

“Why break up now?” He cuts in, leaning close. “What’s changed?”

He squeezes your arms when you don’t answer right away and you yelp.

“What’s changed?”

“I-I… I don’t want to be with you anymore!” The words tumble from your lips, quick and scared and without thought and yet, it’s the complete truth that comes pouring from you. “I’m tired of feeling like nothing because of you!”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything at first. His grip never wavers but he just stands there, staring at you, all whilst you try to pull yourself away. Then, just as his lips part, the sound of his name being called pulls both of your guys’ attention away from each other and on Yuji, his little brother, who stands by the door with his two friends, a boy and a girl that you’ve seen once or twice around the house the few times you’ve been over.

All three of them are looking at you both in surprise, but Yuji looks the most upset, a disturbed look on his face as his eyes settle in on the bruising grip Sukuna holds on your arm.

He loosens his grip a second later and you’re quick to take that chance to pull away, stumbling from him, meeting Sukuna’s eyes before focusing back on Yuji. You move quick, without thought, avoiding everyone's gaze as you straighten yourself out, rushing past Sukuna and towards the door where Yuji and his friends quickly move out of your way. Yuji looks like he wants to say something, reaching out for you in concern, but stops himself.

Just as you’re about to step out, you turn back to Sukuna.

“I meant it,” you force out, gripping the door tight to steady yourself. “We’re through.”

And the door falls shut behind you, your feet moving rapidly to get away and get home as fast as possible.

The second you are gone, Sukuna sends one sharp look at his brother before making his way to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and slamming his fist right into the wall next to it.

[ro-written]

Bright Like Night, My Sea of Stars - V.S

Tags/Warnings: Sanji is in loveeeee (aw), Tsundere!Reader, reader had a VERY rough childhood (read: Kuro and the Black Cats), violence, angst, fluff, cussing, it is 1 am and I am not editing this rn but i will later lol

Word Count: 4.2k

Playlist:

“CIGARETTES” by Amir Obè “Just Pretend” by Bad Omens “Oceans” by Seafret “Da Selby Pt. 1” by Hozier

He’s sure he was in love. He knew it because the feeling in his chest was one he had never experienced before. Well, not like this. 

Not in the way he feels a squeeze at just a simple look you give him. A concerned look when he’s out of breath from fighting. An excited look that you tried to hide when you realized he made your favorite dish again. A peaceful look when the stars and the ocean blend to create a more infinite galaxy and you have the fortuitous chance to view it. 

Just as the waters echoed back the bright lights of the sky, he mirrored the look you cast while he realized that he, a mere human, had the absolute blessing of being in the presence of an ethereal entity such as yourself. His ocean that will always answer your stars.

He didn’t understand it, to tell you the truth. How could he be so lucky to end up in the presence of the person he knew he was destined to be with?

By chance, it was you and the crew who walked into the restaurant. And as pissed off with Zeff as he wished to be, it was Zeff’s decision to put him out on the floor that landed him in front of you. He kicks himself now for flirting with Nami first before you. Since once he heard that pretty laugh, bright enough to make even the nastiest at Baratie have their heart stutter, he could feel it in his throat. A knot. Constricting against his windpipe. The compliment he had ready to launch at you was right on the tip of his tongue, and it refused to come out. Because nothing he could possibly say could be the right thing. He could never possibly compose the right words to let you know the tidal surges you created within him. So, with a red face, he looked at you and mustered up the word: “Water.”

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow and squinted eyes, lips partly open. “Was that a statement? Or a question?” You had laughed out slightly. His staring started to unnerve you, and you cleared your throat to look around.

“Hey, waiter,” Zoro to the rescue. “You okay?”

That seemed to snap him out of the trance you had summoned Sanji in, he whipped his head to face the green-haired swordsman with a nasty look.

“I am not a waiter.”

With that simple statement, he turned to walk back to the kitchen.

Maybe you had some sort of influence over his decision to join the Straw Hats. But he didn’t admit that. Zeff did.

You seemed to have some sort of effect over him, unfortunately. This effect kept him from being able to come up with witty comments and quips to launch at you and ultimately left him stuttering and stumbling over himself while you watched him with a look asking if he was okay. He wasn’t. In the worst way.

Eventually, eventually, he found his footing and could somewhat properly talk to you. Questions about if you had any input on dinner, if you had seen his whisk, or if you knew how much longer for the next stop (that one could have been directed to Nami or Luffy, but anything to talk to you.) And you can’t forget the silly little flirtatious comments. Not at all his best work. 

“Is that a new haircut?” He asked, leaning against the countertop in the kitchen.

“No?”

“Oh well…you-uh. You look good with it.” He rushed out after that one.

He was a man in love.

And he had no clue what he was doing.

It brought him to Nami’s door one night, after cleaning up from dinner. She seemed to have the most common sense when it came to people. If anyone could help him, it had to be her. I mean, what other choice did he have? 

“Sanji, you have to understand that…for them it’s more difficult than you realize.” Nami sat on her hammock with her arms crossed, staring at Sanji as if he grew another head. He put his hands out in front of him, making exaggerated movements with his arms.

“Well, yea I know they are pretty stoic but that’s why I am he–” 

“No, Sanji, you don’t understand. This is one you might want to sit out.” She cut him off before he got too far ahead. Her words confused him. Sit it out? Why? His face contorted and he cocked his head to the side, frown pulling at his features. Nami sighed, telling him to grab the stool that sat right under her mirror, to which he pulled it out and sat in front of her.

Thus started the story of you.

Taken from your parents at such a young age by the Black Cat Pirates. All because your parents weren’t able to offer up tribute. You were raised to clean the ship, dodging Kuro as much as you could. But it could never last long. It started after you turned ten, the training. The rigorous, violent training. He taught you everything he knew, one way or another. If you didn’t learn quick enough, the punishment would land you with you being stitched together by the ship’s lackluster doctor whose training included being given a needle, thread, and some alcohol and told “good luck!” But it didn’t stop.

Kuro made you eat the Devil Fruit. Forced down your throat while the others held you down. His own little secret weapon, one that people never suspected when happened to “wash up” on their front door step, pleading for help. Or after you became of age, and could tempt people back to Kuro for their final exit from this world. Their screams were why you frequented the comfort of the night sky when everyone was back in bed. Why Sanji could regularly find you staring longingly into the sea. The ocean. Your love, and your demise.

“It’s a lost cause, Sanji. I don’t know if they will ever truly feel such peace to where they can accept such love.”

He left Nami’s cabin feeling especially heavy that night. And when he walked out on deck to see you staring down into the ocean, he held his breath. What does he say now? Sorry that you had the world’s shittiest childhood, but I can treat you right. That would be a winner for sure.

He decided to not join you that night. Or the next.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join you. Fuck, he was chomping at the bit to go see you. And that’s why he couldn’t. Not until he figured himself out in this entire equation. He didn’t want to freak you out, scare you away. Everything you grew up with…there was a burning desire for him to protect you. But he didn’t know how.

The complete shift in attitude from the chef did startle you, though. Your interactions of awkward short conversations with his absolute failed attempts of flirting became him attempting to dodge you entirely. You would walk into the kitchen for a snack, just something simple, and he would leave out immediately. You would look at Luffy, sitting at the table with wide eyes, munching on a sandwich. He would simply shrug his shoulders, and continue to grub on his (immensely large) snack. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and headed to the cold chest to get something.

Something within you was…pissed off though. Angry. But you couldn’t put your finger on why.

If that asshole wants to ignore me, then so be it.

You were washing your clothes out on the deck, pinning them up on the wire you and Nami had set up. You had chosen this spot in particular to have the line strung so that the sun would hit the clothes, but also so that you could listen to the waves crash hit the boat while you did your chores. Hearing the water move made your brain silent, making it easier to go on when you were by yourself.

But you weren’t completely by yourself.

You could hear his steps around the corner, stopping just before he “revealed” himself to you, watching you from afar. The crew was always amazed at how sharp your hearing was, rivaling Zoro’s. But being on a boat full of pirates that dubbed themselves the “Black Cats” would do that to you. You still remember the weeks of training Kuro put you through vividly. No matter how hard you tried to put it out of your mind. 

You closed your eyes and inhaled a deep breath of the salty ocean’s smell.

“Sanji.” You called him out from his hiding spot. He hesitated, but then slowly walked from around the corner, taking a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lighting it. He stops a bit of ways from you, watching out at the water.

“So, have you finally decided to talk to me?” You opened your eyes and continued to pin your sheets on the line. His eyes jumped to you, wide with shock.

“Wh– What do you mean?”

“For almost a week now you’ve been dodging me.”

“No I haven’t!”

You stopped your chores before turning your head towards him, eyebrows raised and debating back and forth with yourself if you should knock him in the head or not. You decided on the latter, and scoff instead.

“While this boat is considerably larger than what the crew started with, it’s not that big. People notice when someone is running away from them. Especially here.” You resumed your task again as he sat there, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, processing what you said. 

You finally finish hanging your laundry and grab the empty basket, placing it on your hip before turning away and walking back towards your room. Before you could get around the corner though, he spoke up again.

“Nami told me.” You froze. “She…she told me what happened.”

You only turned your body slightly, your right side facing him. It was enough of a sign for him to continue on.

“And I’m sorry that happened to you, (Y/N). No one should ever, ever go through even a day of what you grew up with.”

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Sanji.” You grit out.

“That’s not what I– I just– I’m trying to– Fucking goddamn it.” He took his cigarette out and threw it out at the water, your eyes staying trained on his face. His hand rubbed down his face, struggling to string together a coherent sentence of what he wanted to say.

“Listen, stove boy, I don’t need you or any of their goddamn pity. So if that’s what this is about, then you can sho–”

“I’m in love with you!”

It was silence. Deafening silence. He couldn’t read your face. It was just…blank.

“I’m…I’m fucking in love with you. Everything about you. Your damn smile that seems like it’s rarer than the All Blue. Your passion and care for this crew. Your bits of wisdom when we need it the most. Your smart ass comments. Just fucking all of it. I want all of it.” His voice sounded absolutely desperate, and if you were to actually stop to listen to the nagging feeling in your gut, you would have recognized it as something. 

“I guess what I’m asking is…I was hoping that maybe we could…be…closer? You and me?” With bated breath, he watches as you stare at him, taking in everything he said.

And you responded with one simple word.

“No.”

His heart pounded in his ears. Blood rushed to his head as his heart jumped to his throat, effectively choking him of his answer. You stood there watching him for a moment before you sighed, turning around to continue your walk.

“Then I will never stop.” He called out, once again, stopping your feet’s movement. You didn’t turn around again this time. He took one step closer to you, though.

“I won’t stop (Y/N). Not until you realize that you are safe. That I can keep you safe. I won’t stop until you realize that you are deserving of love. And I will show you that love.” You grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Until my heart has been ripped from me, and my body is tossed into this cruel ocean. And even then, not even the harshest storms or waves will keep me from you.”

You walked away.

It was a particularly difficult battle, but nevertheless, you persisted. Your kyoketsu-shoge flew through the agitators attacking your crew, blade slicing through them effortlessly. You could hear Sanji’s grunts from his fighting behind you, and you took a split second to look back, checking in on him to ensure he was okay.

You were thankful you did, as one of the “Purple Band” pirates charged at him while Sanji dealt with one aggressor already. You whipped the rope around on your weapon, turning your body and letting it launch towards the pirate. The ring wrapped perfectly around his leg, and you pulled, causing him to fall into the sand. Using your strength, you pulled him over to you, him fighting and clawing at the sand the entire time in order to get away. However, as soon as he was close enough, you jumped on him, blade sinking deep through his sternum in his chest. After one last gurgle, he finally stopped wiggling, and you took a deep breath before unsheathing your blade and wiping it off on the (now dead) pirate’s clothes. You stood up, unraveled his ankle from your rope, and looked at Sanji, who was watching you. 

It surprised you, but you tried to not show it in your face much. You could feel your heart pounding, however, ready to burst from your chest. You brush it off as coming down off the adrenaline from a fight. But you watched as his eyes scanned down your body, checking to see if any of the blood from the battle was yours. He only breathed out a sigh of relief when he decided it wasn’t.

“Are…Are you okay?” You asked him in a voice that sounded almost worried. Almost.

“I’m good. How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?” He took a gentle step forward, but stopped before he got too far. But something had caught his eye. A slight shine came from the sand.

“I’m fi–” 

“Look out!” He flings his body against you, causing you to drop to the ground. 

The next thing you hear is a shot, a yell, and his body dropping to the ground next to you.

You heard Zoro’s Wado Ichimonji slice through the gun, and, eventually, the pirate who had shot the ghastly bullet. But it all tuned out for you, as you stared at the blond man groaning through his gritted teeth next to you, rolling onto his side.

“S-Sanji?” You crawl on top of his body, seeing him open and close his eyes dazedly. “Hey, look at me now, keep those eyes open.” You pat his cheek gently.

“I must be dead…” He smiled, looking directly at your face. “Because there is no way such an angel like you is on top of me. Not in this lifetime.” His smile was cut off by a painful grunt.

“Hold on Sanji, Zoro and Luffy are coming over and we– we are gonna get you back to the ship, okay?” You sputtered out words while you tried to remember any medical training you possibly could. But Kuro never thought you would need anything like that. Sanji gurgled up some blood, with some of it splattering onto your face.

“(Y/N) we need to grab him,” Zoro’s voice came from behind you as you stared in horror at the cook’s endless coughing. Nami grabbed your shoulders and pulled you back, allowing for Luffy and Zoro to pick Sanji up and hurry him back to the ship. You sat there in the sand for a moment, Usopp to your left and Nami to your right, watching as the two men carried Sanji back. But eventually, you got up, and rushed to follow them.

Hours.

Hours of Nami and Usopp keeping you out of the room while the doctor that Luffy and Zoro found was in there to help Sanji. You could hear his grunts and yells as you paced around the deck, trying so hard to focus on the sounds of the ocean, but only able to hear him. 

He was in so much pain. And you couldn’t do anything about it except fucking wait. He took that goddamn bullet for you, and you couldn’t do shit for him.

Eventually, the yelling stopped, and before you could bolt to the door to bust it down, Luffy and Zoro walked out. Their faces looked grim and you tried to get a read on them besides that. As soon as you tried to open your mouth, the doctor walked out, apron bloodied. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You stood solidly, attempting to keep your voice as steady as possible. None of the crew members had seen you in such a state. Sure, you could keep yourself together well enough, but they could still see the look in your eyes. A frantic search for someone to tell you anything. The doctor simply sighed, adjusting his glasses.

“I’ve done what I can for now. All you can do at this point is wait. It’s up to him and how much fight he’s got in him.”

You stared at the older man. A part of you wanted to reach out and strangle him. To tell him to go in there and make Sanji better. To make him keep going until your cook woke up. But you didn’t. How could you? He did his job, and that’s all you could have asked for.

So, your shoulders fell and you took a deep sigh before you walked into his room.

“I’m worried.”

“Well, we’re all a bit worried.”

“Yea, but, Luffy…(Y/N) has been in there for the past four days. Only leaves to eat or use the bathroom. It’s not healthy.” Nami dropped her hands in exasperation. Luffy simply stared at her, a pained, tight-lipped smile as he tried to figure out what to do.

“We both know how any conversation would go. I think we need to let this play out, Nami.” Zoro stepped in to give his insight. He shared a somewhat similar personality to you the most. If anyone might have any idea on how to proceed with your (unhealthy) actions, it would have been him.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I really do think we should go–” The door to the kitchen opening cut Nami off, and you walked in. Everyone’s eyes turned to you, and you simply looked back at them. The sudden silence told you everything you needed to know about the conversation you walked in on.

“I was just going to make some soup for him. He may be hungry when he wakes up.” Was all you stated before moving to the stove to get started on your cooking.

You had taken over pretty much all of the “Sanji watch shifts.” Occasionally, they would pop in to see how both he, and you, were doing. They would come in to see you changing his bandages, or would find you reading a book to him aloud at times. More often than not, though, you would just talk. Out of the months the crew knew you, these past four days have been your most talkative. 

Usopp even swore he heard you sing once. They all brushed that one off.

You finished making the soup, putting it in a bowl and grabbing a spoon, making your leave to allow the others to keep talking about you.

You knew they were worried, and some part of you felt bad for being the cause of the worry. But an even bigger part of you could only think of Sanji and doing whatever you could to make him feel better. Your mind was set.

You sat down right back where you had been for days, soup in your lap ready and waiting for him to wake up. You stared down at it, thinking back to a few weeks ago, a bit after his declaration of love. 

He had made your favorite dish. You don’t even know how he figured it out, or if maybe one of the crewmates told him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to really mind too much. Not after taking a bite out of it. It was even better than when you had it for the first time all those years ago. When Kuro decided to “treat you” for your sixteenth birthday. At least, that was what he said. You knew the truth – that it was actually because you had scored him such a big treasure all by acting a little helpless and scared at the doors of some mansion an elderly couple owned. Right before he came in to…

“How is it?” Sanji sat in front of you, a smile on his face, eyes wide. You didn’t realize you had been staring so hard at the dish as if it was speaking to you. Your head jolted up, registering what the cook had just asked.

“This is…it’s good. Thank you.” You continued to eat, and he sat there watching as you took down another bite, and another, and another. One corner of his lips lifted up and there was some type of…adoration in his eyes.

“You know, I learned a phenomenal recipe for it when this one chef came in to Baratie,” he went into a story as you continued. “He showed me certain tricks and what the best types of ingredients were for it.”

“Yeah? What did he teach you?” You look at him with a raised eyebrow, still shoveling more food in.

“Well I can’t tell you all my secrets, now can I?” He winked at you. It felt weird, how smooth he could flirt with you now after everything that happened between you two. Maybe that was all it took for him. Putting his heart out to you as he did.

“What if you’re not here one day? How else will I be able to make it this well?”

“You don’t gotta worry about that, love. I plan to always be around to make it.” He looked down at your, almost clean, plate.

“I’ll make whatever you want. If it means your happiness, I’ll do it.”

You didn’t realize the tears were falling until one dropped onto the rim of the bowl. You looked up at Sanji’s body, still out cold, and wiped the tears off your face. You let out the littlest laugh.

“You know, you told me I didn’t have to worry about knowing those little tricks you mentioned because you’d always be around. Guess who was right?” You laughed humorlessly, still staring at his face. He was so pale, one might have mistaken him for being dead. And with his breathing so shallow…

It broke you.

“You wanted to be close? Right? Well if you wake up, we can be closer. That’s all you gotta do, stove boy. You wake up, and I will listen to all your ridiculous flirting attempts and try all your different food experiments and…” Your voice died out, once again staring at the bowl in your lap. Fuck. 

You finally decided to just put it to the side and get up to kneel right next to his bed, grabbing at his hand.

“I’m…I’m scared, Sanji. I’m terrified. I can’t get close to any of you because I could hurt you. Kuro isn’t dead and when he finds out that all of you have become something to me, he will kill you. Friends get in the way of doing a job. He will kill anyone to get me back, his fucking weapon, and I can’t–” Your voice cracked as the tears once again ran down your cheeks onto your chin.

“...I can’t lose you Sanji.” You put your forehead down on the bed. “You’ve made me safe here. Always putting me before you, always checking on me. You fucking made me my favorite food. And he can take that all away once he finds me.” You sobbed into the mattress. Reality struck you viciously, repeatedly, over your back, with a metal pipe. What happens when he doesn’t wake up?

“He won’t.”

You inhaled sharply. 

“He won’t take anything.” His voice croaked out, hoarse from having no water for days. “Kuro.”

You lifted your head up from the bed to look at the chef’s face. His eyes, while a difficult feat, opened up to look at you.

“Because I won’t let him come near you. Ever again.” He looked so deadly serious. “You’ve had to protect yourself for so long, (Y/N). Please, let me do it.” His hand squeezed yours, reminding you that you still held it.

A smile took over your face, and you laughed. A true laugh. One that you couldn’t remember when, or if, you’ve ever felt before. One that supplied your entire body with elatement. Relief filled your lungs, and you threw your body over his to give him a hug. With this, he too laughed, feeling honored to see the rare sight of you truly, thoroughly happy. 

The waves crashing outside against the boat filled the air, and your body relaxed 

If you couldn’t feel the sea, well…

He would be your ocean.

This was written by @/ro-written and is not to be plagiarized, translated, or distributed anywhere else. Copyright 2024.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome

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[matsudashusband]

nsfw modern!jean headcanons pt. 2

MINORS DNI // GENDER NEUTRAL READER // NO Y/N

-jean is a thigh man. you cannot change my opinion on this. hes def a bi icon, and thighs are something gender neutral. what started as an innocent need for a lap pillow turned into a kink for him. he is very into thigh worship. lay his head on your lap when he has a headache, and suddenly he seems fine as he trails kisses along your inner thighs.

-LOVES TO TEASE WITH HIS MOUTH, SPECIFICALLY. he ABSOLUTELY has a thing for oral fixation.

-after a party one night, you and jean were just feeling it, and this would be the first and last time you'd have sex with him in his car. i'll include this in the next sfw hc post, but jean to me would drive a 2001 silver honda civic. he hit his head one too many times for it to be worth doing again in the future. he also accidentally left the front seat reclined and the next time he drove, it was to pick connie up and he called him out for being freaky lol

-in the last post i touched on positions...missionary is def his favorite...y'all tried it from the back once and it felt good but jean claimed "he felt like it could've been anyone he was fucking" because he couldn't see your face and feel the love the two of you had to share with each other. he said if he ever would do it again he'd probably have to watch you in a mirror.

-jean keeps his body hair trimmed very precisely. no armpit hair, trimmed balls, and a very prominent happy trail. (HOT)

-he is into plugging, but that's as far as he goes for anal. he is a bit of a clean freak and is too worried about shit on his dick/a strap. (sorry to kill the mood lmfao...this is why i can't write serious smut.)

-this man refuses to have sex if he doesn't have at least two condoms on hand (in case one breaks). he is soooo better to be safe than sorry. in fact, jean hides condoms everywhere. his wallet, his car, bathroom, nightstand, under the bed, and random drawers. whenever he worries that his supply is dwindling, he always finds some more in hiding spots.

-speaking of condoms, he never lets you buy or pay for them. he believes it's his responsibility if he's the only dick haver in the relationship.

-jean would never do friends with benefits. ever. it's too casual to him. he needs to feel that deep connection to properly show his partner the love he has for them.

-he barely gets jealous. over like...anything. jean is so secure in the fact that the way you feel about him is the exact way he feels about you, due to how long you've know each other.

-you often ask jean if there's anything he wants to try in the bedroom, his response is to always shrug and be like..."hmm...nah." and he doesn't lie about that. he doesn't watch porn or read erotica to gather ideas.

-speaking of porn, he considers this cheating in a relationship, BUT, if you were to ask to film it with you, jean would try to talk you out of it for privacy reasons.

but...if y'all did do porn it would be the top of the romantic tag <3

[wisteriasymphony]

WIP WTHURSDAY - snagging from @bittersweetresilience because i want to join in on the fun too :33

Context: This is for a later chapter in The Warm Embrace of Shadow. To anybody not familiar with the AU, I apologize for the psychic damage incurred by Kagami being Like That. She's just a girl it's not her fault

The tea table was long enough that either of them would have to shout to be heard, meaning that any real and fruitful conversation was out of the question. While the binds around its wrists and ankles kept Adrien mostly restrained to his chair, there was enough slack in them to barely lift himself off and look over the assortment of tea cakes and towers of sweets over to Kagami, who was taking a sip of earl grey. Adrien's eyes went back on the deserts. If his previous experiences gave any indication, only ten percent (at best) would be eaten with the remaining ninety percent being tossed into the garbage. There was no telling what did or did not have chocolate in it, either, so any bite of the sugary stuff could trigger his gag reflex. Starving was clearly his only option here. “Good afternoon,” Kagami finally spoke, officially beginning the whole charade. She moved stiffly, rehearsedly, as if her chains were even shorter than Adrien’s own. “Your face has changed once more, I see. I understand it now. You are incomplete without your misery, so you must make it visible.” Adrien clicked his tongue, sneering “The story is that I broke my nose from falling down the stairs.” Kagami hummed in response. “What are lives if not a collection of stories?” He couldn’t tell if that was meant to be sympathetic or mocking. Not to mention how ridiculously trite it sounded. Adrien flicked his wrist—the chain snapped back and forth along with the movement, and yet it did not break. It was tempting to Cataclysm his restraints just to free himself, but Adrien was hoping that he would give Kagami reasons to hate him without having to rely on revealing himself as Chat Noir. After all, if Chat was still alive, it was only a matter of time before Ladybug tried to actually kill him. Adrien had every reason to believe she’d succeed in that, and while death was tempting, another meeting with that tyrant was not.  Speaking of omnipresent tyranny… "In our brief departures from one another, there was ample opportunity to reconvene with my mother, as you so... harshly requested," Kagami spoke, in that voice she always put on. "May it come to your attention that what it set in stone cannot be easily undone, not when the stonecarver refuses to put down the chisel." Adrien merely rolled his eyes, his chains clinking some more as he reluctantly went to pour himself a cup of his own tea. "Is your chair bolted to the floor too, Kagami?" was all he asked. Kagami's initial silence made it clear that, out of anything he could've said, he wasn't supposed to ask that.  "...A flea in a lidless jar will only jump to the height of the lip and no further. Such lids are only closed when the flea is not properly trained." "Just bring your chair closer, I don't want to have to yell over to you." Kagami stopped again. "...No."

No pressure towards anyone tagged! (And sorry to anybody if I retagged lol) @silliersiluriforme @isabugs @bakawitch @official-vampire-business :3

[sam-is-my-safe-word]

Demon Dreams

Demon!Dean Winchester x Jensen Ackles

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Non- AU, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Season/Series 10, Character Bleed, Jensen Is Not Okay, Jared is Jared, Jared Is Worried About Jensen, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Dean Is An Asshole, Emotional Manipulation, Identity Crisis, Possession, Sort of? - Freeform, Wet Dreams, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Strangulation, Exorcisms, Sexorcism If You Will,

Word Count: 3,201

Summary: Jensen is no stranger to character bleed. But it's not meant to take over your life like this, right?

Notes:

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "you fed my demons" "you created mine" square.

Okay, this is the most fictional thing I've ever written lol. This is an utterly fictional Jensen set in an AU with no wives or children. I am not implying for one single second that anything in this fic actually occured. Nor am I implying Jensen is gay or bisexual. Please don't sue me lol. Also, first time writing RPF/RPS. Still feel some kinda way about it. Be gentle with me (even though I am not gentle with you, my dear readers)

Endless thanks to my beta @runawaydr3amerao3 for all her help in making this so much better than I could have & for her comma wrangling <3 Endless thanks also to @talltalesandbedtimestories for getting me involved in this whole bingo thing & cheering me on <3

Jensen is no stranger to character bleed. It’s happened before. Some characters are just too heavy. 

It’s happened with Dean a few times. Hard scenes that invade his dreams for days afterwards. Character arcs that refuse to leave when he sheds Dean to put Jensen back on and leave him snapping at everyone. 

This is different, though. This is like the character has taken on a life of its own in his head. 

Jensen is no stranger to sex dreams either. He’s a healthy guy in his mid-thirties with no long-term partner and a job that takes up almost all his life. 

Jerking off at 3am because he woke up hard from a dream of some faceless someone riding him like a mechanical bull, and his alarm is going to go off in just over an hour and he’d really like to sleep a little more and sleep won’t happen until he deals with his cock, is just another part of life. 

This is different as well. This isn’t a faceless stranger. He knows the person haunting his dreams. 

Intimately. 

Jensen has dreamed about Dean lots of times. He’s an old friend. 

This is not his Dean. 

~~~

Demon Dean was a challenge. He started out fun to play, a nice mix-up. A chance for extended scenes with Mark, to let out Dean’s inner asshole. A sex scene - awkward - and a fight scene - awesome. The black contacts weren’t fun but overall it was a good time. 

Up until filming the third episode, when he had to act against Jared again, and suddenly Demon Dean wasn’t fun anymore. Then it was hard. Then it was fighting against every acting instinct that came with ten years of Dean, ten years with Jared. 

Not Dean, Sam’s brother anymore; Demon Dean, Sam’s enemy. It was a hard headspace to get into. Chasing Jared around the bunker with a hammer was brutal. He couldn’t even truly lose himself in the character because he still had to direct everyone else. 

Then it was over. Just three episodes and he was free to lose the murder shirt and style his hair properly again. 

And he’s proud of his work. Especially ‘Soul Survivor’. It’s always a challenge to balance actor and director, but he’s thrilled with how it turned out. He made Demon Dean a true threat to Sam, and as long as he doesn’t examine that too closely, it’s okay. 

But it’s been a couple of weeks since they finished ‘Soul Survivor’, and Jensen is still waking up sweating after dreams about black eyes and the words ‘do it’ ringing in his ears. 

~~~

Look, Jensen is a perfectly sane guy. He has a great handle on his mental health, knows the signs of when he needs to reach out. Hell, after ten years of helping Jared, Jensen would say he probably knows more about mental health than most people who don’t actually suffer with mental health problems. 

So while he knows that his dreams of weapons, black eyes and the thrill of the chase are just character bleed, he also knows that he needs to be aware in case they develop into something serious. 

But nothing he knows tells him what to do when he starts to look forward to his dark dreams. 

Jared might be able to help, though. 

So a few days later, when he wakes up hard and aching after dreaming about Demon Dean fucking his throat raw - all while holding a knife to it - after he’s taken care of the problem, he texts Jared - once he’s washed his hands, of course. 

It’s still early, but Jared gets up hours before he needs to, to work out and walk his dogs and generally become a person. A far cry from Jensen, who falls out of bed after four snoozes of his alarm and downs coffee until his eyes open. 

Jensen: You up?

Jared: Yeah, lol. Why are YOU up?

Jensen: Can’t sleep. Can I ask you something? 

There’s a pause and Jensen thinks maybe Jared’s sitting down or something. No one asks to talk at 3:30am. He isn’t expecting the phone to ring in his hand. 

“‘Lo.” 

“You okay? Not like you to be up at this time, never mind asking if you can ask me something.” 

This is exactly what Jensen didn’t want. Now he has to try and explain himself with words instead of text. 

“I’m okay. Just… Do you even dream about Sam?” 

Jared lets out a small laugh; Jensen can hear the relief. 

“All the time, man. All the fucking time. You don’t dream about Dean?” 

“Yeah, I do. I mean… like, weird dreams about Sam?” 

Jared hums. 

“I had a recurring dream that he kept showing up to my high school graduation and glaring at me. Like I was an asshole for finishing school, y’know.” 

Jared chuckles.

“Or when I’ve gone a little too hard on the candy and there’s Sam, staring at me from across a table with a pile of salad in front of him. Like, okay, dude. You’re a health nut, I’m not. That kind of weird?”

God help Jensen, Jared is going to make him spell it out. 

“Not exactly…” 

Jared must hear something in his voice because he starts to laugh, far too loudly for the time of day. 

“Ohhhh… that kind of weird. Jackles, you pervert, you.” 

This was a terrible idea, why did he even message Jared? He’ll never live this down now.

“No, not like- I mean, that kind of weird but not… Stop fucking laughing, Jared.” 

Jared has gone from laughing to belly laughing; Jensen can hear him fighting for breath. 

“I’m sorry...”

“You’re not.” 

“No, I’m not. This is too funny. Hollywood hot-shot Jensen Ackles all in knots at 3am because he had a wet dream-” 

“I fucking DID NOT!” 

He did, though, night after night. 

“Why are you blushing then?” 

“I’m no-” 

Damnit, he is. He can feel his cheeks heating up. 

“It wasn’t a wet fucking dream, Jared. I’m not thirteen, for chrissakes. It was just a weird dream and it kinda freaked me out.” 

“A weird sex dream, you mean.” 

“Yes.” 

Jared is still laughing but it’s starting to die down now. 

“Okay, calm down. Yes, I dream about Sam. Yes, sometimes they’re weird. Yes, sometimes they’re sex-dreams-weird. Hell, I dream about fucking Sam more than I dream about fucking anyone else.” 

Jared sounds perfectly at peace with this revelation, and if it was regular Dean that Jensen was dreaming about, he might get it. 

“I mean, it’s either dream about fucking Sam or dream about fucking you . I’ll take Sam any day.” 

Jared starts fake gagging and Jensen is over this entire conversation. 

“Okay, good talk. Thanks, Jared. I’ll see you in a little while. Let’s just forget this ever happened.” 

“Wait. You know I’m only messin’ with you. You can talk-” 

*Click*

Well, that was a waste of time. Jared sounded sincere at the end, but Jensen is too embarrassed to even try to talk now. Hopefully by the time he has to face Jared in the car, Jared will have found something else to talk about. 

~~~

Jared was smart enough not to bring up the early morning phone call, and after a brief hug and a nod, they were all good. 

Demon Dean, though? He’s dining out on the call, milking Jensen’s embarrassment for all it’s worth. 

It’s a special kind of humiliation when someone is three fingers deep in your ass and you’re moaning like a whore, and they bring up an awkward 3am call you had with your best friend a few days ago. 

“So you think this is weird, huh?” 

Jensen never doubted Dean’s swagger was well earned, but Demon Dean turns it up to eleven. Jensen hasn’t come this hard since he was a teen, and it’s part of the reason he looks forward to these damn dreams, even though they freak him the fuck out. 

“‘Cause you sure seem to like it.” 

Demon Dean twists his fingers and Jensen howls.  

“You like being here, at my mercy. You like when it hurts, when you’re scared. When I take it.” 

Jensen’s hips buck. God, he’s so close. 

“This is where you should be. That pretty face needs to be sucking cock or face down in the sheets.” 

Jensen isn’t eighteen anymore, he’s not new to the scene and insecure about himself. He knows he’s a good actor, a good director, a fucking professional. But something about Demon Dean cuts through all that and suddenly he’s a kid again, doubting everything. It makes him even harder. The pitch black eyes and the waves of menace rolling off Demon Dean make Jensen legitimately scared of him, even though he knows it’s just a dream. 

“Does it feel weird , Jensen?” 

Jensen can only moan in response. It’s so fucking good. 

“Answer me!” 

There’s the cold and heavy weight of a hammer pressing into his Adam's apple, and when Jensen opens his eyes, Demon Dean’s own ice black is all he can see. 

“N…no.” 

He’s rewarded for his answer by a hard thrust in and upwards. He’s right there, he can taste it. 

“N…no.” 

Demon Dean mocks him. 

“No, it doesn’t look like it, either. Looks like you’re having a blast. Cunt so tight around my fingers. Looks like you’re right where you should be.”

Jensen can’t breathe. 

“Say it. Say you feel right here, cunt stuffed full of me.” 

“I…”

“Say it, Jensen. Or I’ll stop.” 

“Fuck. Fuck… I feel right.” 

“That’s it. This is what you’re good for, isn't it? Just a pretty boy to get fucked.” 

“Ju-just a pretty boy to get fucked. Fucking… please!” 

Demon Dean smiles coldly. 

Jensen wakes with a groan, hips still thrusting into the mattress as he soaks the sheets.

More laundry. He should buy more sheet sets. 

~~~

Jared pulls Jensen aside a couple of weeks after the call. They’re out with some cast and crew from that week's episode, just relaxing, having some drinks and blowing off steam after a difficult shoot. 

Jensen really doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want to be anywhere, really. But he couldn’t refuse, not without prompting more questions. So he paints on a smile, sticks to beer and tries to let the conversations happen around him without getting involved. 

Jared must notice his discomfort and grabs him on a trip to the bathroom. 

“You alright, dude?” 

Jensen sighs internally. He doesn’t want to do this. 

“I’m fine, just tired, y’know.” 

Jared cocks his head a little; looks at Jensen too closely. 

“You wanna get out of here? I’ll split an Uber with you?” 

God yes. But then it will be questions on Monday and he can’t with that. 

“No, I’m good. Besides, you’re having a good time. You don’t gotta leave on account of my old ass.” 

Another head tilt, Jared really can be a puppy at times. Normally, Jensen adores this caring side of his friend. But he’d give anything to have that focus aimed away from him right now. 

“Jen…” 

“I’m fine! Okay. I’m fucking tired, it’s been a long week. Let’s just… get another drink or something. Okay?” 

Jensen didn’t mean for Dean to come out of his mouth then. It happens, but not usually in temper like that. Jared holds his hands up in surrender and lets Jensen walk past him, back to their group. 

~~~

He’s on his knees, Demon Dean’s cock buried in his throat. It hurts, he can’t breathe, but it feels so good. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Choke on it. Gonna get that throat all fucked out.” 

Jensen moans and digs his fingers into Demon Dean’s hips. 

“Gotta help you find Dean’s voice somehow. Know you’ve been having trouble with that.” 

Demon Dean runs a hand through his hair as he says it and Jensen forgets to be offended.

“That’s it. That’s it. Pretty mouth on my cock. Just like it should be.”

~~~

Something isn’t right with Jensen. Everyone can see it. He’s just not present anymore. Not totally at least. He gives it his best on set, but he just can’t seem to find the right headspace anymore. Scenes that he would knock out in two takes, max., are taking six/seven/eight now. 

Jared is beside himself with worry. 

“Jensen, please. If you won’t talk to me, talk to someone, anyone. Please!”

“I’m fine, Jay.” 

Weary smile. Tired eyes. 

“Jensen. Is this about those dreams you were having?” 

“No! Of course not. Anyway, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Jen…” 

“Night, Jared.” 

~~~

“I should just keep you here, Jensen. In your mind with me, all the time. Think how good it would be, nothing to worry about. Just pleasing me.” 

“Please…” 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Made to be laid out on silk sheets and just fucked . Over and over and over. This is where you should be.” 

“Fuck…” 

“Too much pressure out there. Acting, directing, managing your life. Wouldn’t you rather stay here, just us?” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. With you.” 

~~~

It comes to a head during the filming of ‘The Executioner’s Song’. An absolutely pivotal moment for Dean, and Jensen just cannot get his head in the game. Everyone is frustrated, including Jensen. 

But as always, it’s Jared that breaks the spell in the end. 

“C’mon, dude. Get it together. I’m sick of redoing this scene.” 

It’s said with humour, but Jensen can hear the tension and frustration underneath. 

The words spill out of him, without thought.

“I think I’m gonna quit…” 

Jared just looks at him, slack-jawed. There’s silence for a minute. Thankfully they’re in a quiet corner of the set while the crew resets the equipment… again. 

“What?” 

It’s said so softly, Jensen almost doesn’t hear it. 

“I think… I’m not cut out for this. I should quit. This isn’t what I should be doing.”

Jensen says it calmly, as if he’s pondering what to have for lunch. But when he looks at Jared again, he’s floored by what he sees.

Jared is crying. His eyes are full of tears, one is tracing its way down his cheek. He’s clenching his jaw, but Jensen can see the wobble. Jensen is reminded of filming ‘All Hell Breaks Loose Part II’, wiping away the stray tear that fell as Dean mourned Sam. 

It’s like the fog lifts from Jensen’s eyes. He realises what he just said. 

“Jared…” 

He reaches out to touch his friend, but Jared turns and walks away without a word. 

Jensen just watches, unable to move, as Jared goes to the crew and tells them he needs to go home. The director tries to beg Jared to stay, saying they’re already so behind schedule - a glance in Jensen’s direction at that. Jared is unmoved, though. Jensen hears him say that even if ‘he’ - meaning Jensen again, of course - can get it together, they won’t get anything usable from him today, and he’ll be back on set bright and early tomorrow to get it done. 

Shame, hot and sick, fills Jensen. What has he done… 

Jared has already left by the time Jensen gets his things together. The car that usually drives them both to and from set is waiting for him, though. Jared had said he was going to make his own way home. No one wanted to argue. 

The ride home for Jensen is smothered in thick silence. Not even a goodbye is exchanged with the driver when they pull up outside Jensen’s apartment building. 

What has he done…

What has he let himself become? 

He spends the evening drinking bourbon from the bottle and stopping himself from calling Jared. Even with the early finish, it’s still late - by normal standards - and he’s tired from the day. The bourbon speeds the process along and it’s not long before his head is hitting the pillow. 

Jensen is well into the dream before he realises this is one. It’s almost like lucid dreaming, these nightly visits with Demon Dean. But he’s never tried to control them, just takes what Demon Dean gives to him. 

Tonight, though, tonight he sees through the veil. So to speak. 

Demon Dean is above him, watching him with those blank, black eyes and that cold smile, distorted by the grimace of effort he’s putting into fucking Jensen as hard as he can. He’s got two fingers buried in Jensen’s mouth at the same time and he’s spouting the usual shit, but this time, Jensen knows it’s shit. 

“God, wish I could fuck your mouth and cunt at the same time. Both so fucking tight and pretty.” 

He thrusts deeply and Jensen groans around the fingers before spitting them out in disgust. Demon Dean doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Fuckin’ perfect here, right where you’re meant to be, getting this tight hole fucked sloppy. Just what you’re good for.” 

Jensen snaps, or breaks free. He’s not sure. 

With a roar of anger, he bucks his hips upwards, uses the momentum to shove Demon Dean over onto his back. Jensen goes with him, ends up straddling his waist, feeling Demon Dean’s hard cock resting against his ass, no longer inside him. 

With the demon beneath him, Jensen raises a fist to punch him, break his nose, his cheekbone, his jaw, anything. But those depthless black eyes and that cold fucking smirk stop him. Demon Dean would welcome the violence. Jensen is not a violent man, not unless he has to be. 

He has to be here. Has to take back control in the only way Demon Dean understands. 

He wraps his hand around the throat beneath him, squeezes just a little. Just to test. 

“You fed my demons long enough. No more.” 

The laugh that comes from below him is a little strained, a little wheezy. Jensen brings his other hand up, wraps them both around Demon Dean's neck, thumbs crossing over the Adam's apple. 

“Fed your demons? Jensen, you created mine.” 

Jensen squeezes. Hard. Tight. His arms shake with the effort. The face beneath him goes red, then purple. But the body never fights to break free. The hips under him squirm and thrust. 

Tighter. 

Harder. 

Jensen is sure something is going to pop, unsure if it will be him. 

Right as his arms are about to go limp, unable to hold the tension anymore, he feels the cock behind him twitch, kick and then shoot hot over his ass. When he looks into the face under him, the eyes appear to roll back. 

But instead they just morph to green, the same green eyes he’s seen in the mirror every day of his life. 

His hands fall from his own throat and the body under him takes a deep breath. 

Not Demon Dean anymore, only Jensen. 

Jensen wakes with a shout, his hips churning into the sheets and mattress below him, cock still spurting cum into his boxers. 

He’s soaked in sweat and when he realises what woke him - strangling Demon Dean and watching him morph back into Jensen - he feels new cold sweat break out all over him. 

Is it over? Is he free from Demon Dean’s spell? 

He needs to call Jared… 

But first, where did he put those new sheets?

[part-time-zombie]

Blue Around The Scales

pairings: loceit (platonic, can be seen as romantic)

summary: logan doesn't worry about very much, and he tries to respect janus' privacy. after janus starts acting strangely, logan takes it upon himself to make sure he's alright.

tags/warnings: shedding

word count: 3345

a/n: i wrote this before janus' grwm video, i hope it still holds up lol. i also hope what i looked up about snakes is accurate enough.

Logan didn’t worry easily. Most problems were easily resolved and not worth his concern at all. Even if it were a more difficult issue, it mostly just frustrated him more than anything. It challenged the notion that he always had the answer to things, which of course he does. That’s his job after all. He was not the type to be concerned about anything, especially since he could often solve most problems before they could raise any concern at all.

In this case however, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of tension settle over him. Over the past week or so, Janus had been acting rather strangely and with no discernible cause. He rarely left his room at all lately, but when he did Logan noticed subtle changes. He was less active than he usually was, which admittedly wasn’t much to begin with. It wasn’t exhaustion as he was still very much aware and alert and showed no signs of fatigue, but he had been spending most of his time resting on the couch and hardly moving unless absolutely necessary. His scales seemed to be fading in color and vibrancy as well, dulling to a sickly grey that he refused to comment on. He was completely irritable and withdrawn, though it never got any worse than excessive eye rolling and rude responses. Any attempts at inquiry regarding his behavior only ever resulted in stubborn silence from him. Worse yet, Logan can’t recall the last time he saw Janus eating anything.

He did try to encourage Janus to eat, but he always declined whatever had been offered to him. It didn’t matter if it was Patton's baking, Logan's cooking, or even a simple glass of wine. Janus would refuse to consume anything, saying little else than that he wasn’t hungry. Thinking that he might have been suffering from the effects of his coldblooded nature, Logan even tried to turn the heat up but with little success. Even when the thermostat was set at eighty, Janus refused to eat or move. With all of these increasingly troubling symptoms and no identifiable source to them, Logan couldn’t help but be a little bit uneasy. Something was wrong, Janus wasn’t functioning properly, and he definitely wasn’t feeling well despite the sides being incapable of falling ill in the first place. Whatever was going on was not good, and it could even potentially affect Thomas.

Logan tried not to say anything about it at first. It was clear that Janus didn’t want to talk about it and Logan wanted to respect his boundaries, but at the same time he was getting increasingly desperate to find an answer to what was going on.

It was when Janus didn’t show up at all that he let himself worry. Janus had been skipping breakfast all week now, but he usually showed up roughly an hour later. It was now noon and he had yet to appear, and Logan's attempts at summoning him were fruitless. Janus had never declined an opportunity to appear for a debate or discussion before and he always showed up when he was summoned, so him not being present at all was beyond surprising.

With little else in the way of ideas, Logan found himself standing in front of Janus’ door, readying himself to knock. He had never intruded on Janus’ privacy before, but he felt the situation called for such measures and he had no better actions to take. Taking a deep breath, he raised a steady fist and knocked firmly on the door.

It took nearly a minute of silence before he decided to knock again, this time louder.

“Janus, it’s Logan. Are you still in your room?”

“… No.” came the response, very clearly from within the room.

Logan sighed to himself, not willing to play against Janus’ sarcasm today. “May I come in?”

“Yes…”

Upon receiving admission, Logan did not hesitate to open the door and enter, only for his glasses to immediately condensate and fog up at the extreme humidity he was confronted with inside Janus’ room. He took his glasses off momentarily to clean them while he heard a surprised and slightly panicked curse come from somewhere off to his left. He put his glasses back on quickly at that, taking in the sight before him.

Logan had never been in Janus’ room before, but it was certainly quite lovely. It was warmly lit and minimalistic in design, with black and gold as the most prominent color choices. There was a large bookshelf to his right full of various novels, biographies, and even a few knick-knacks, with the bed at the far end of the opposite wall. Next to it and in the direction of the sound was a large vanity set with a small plush stool. It was here that Logan saw a very flustered and very disheveled Janus.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted, hurriedly tying the black robe he had apparently just now covered himself with. His hat and gloves were discarded along with the rest of his outfit, though Logan could still see some yellow and black patterned sleep pants beneath the robe. He had definitely not been expecting Logan to enter, considering his state of undress.

“Apologies, I thought you said I could come in,” he explained.

 “Yeah, as a lie. Much like how I was clearly lying when I said I wasn’t in here. Why are you even here in the first place, what do you want so badly?”

“Well, I wanted to check up on you. You had been behaving strangely for quite some time now and I couldn’t help but feel concerned about your wellbeing.”

Janus scoffed, though it lost most of its impact now that Janus was so off-kilter. “How sweet of you to say. Really, I’m touched by how you apparently care so much that you barged in on me like this. As you can see, I’m fine, now just get out of my room already.”

Logan was about to do just that, but as he prepared to move he saw something in the light that gave him pause. Leaning forward slightly from where he stood, he tried to better examine what it was that he had seen on Janus’ face.

There, near his left eye, a part of his scales had peeled back slightly.

“What are you staring at?” Janus snapped.

Logan tried to clear the look of shock that had surely formed while he gaped at Janus.

“Your scales…” he started, not quite sure how to properly phrase his observation.

Janus seemed to understand him immediately though. He gasped lightly before all but slapping a hand to the left side of his face, turning his head to hide his scales. “It’s nothing. You didn’t see anything, alright, just leave it alone!” he exclaimed, as the now clearly visible right half of his face flushed beet red. If Logan didn’t know any better, he’d say Janus was embarrassed.

By now his concern had been replaced with an overwhelming surge of scientific curiosity. Logan shut the door behind him and took a small step forward.

“Janus, are you shedding?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Janus’ eyes widened before quickly looking away. “What? No, that would be ridiculous. Why on earth would I shed? For all you know these scales aren’t even real. It could just be some very convincing makeup,” he rambled, practically squirming in his seat.

Logan fought back a smile at the extreme reaction. “Maybe so, but I’ve been around you long enough to tell that those scales are very much real. It would make sense for you to shed them anyway, seeing as the coldblooded nature of snakes has also carried over to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to show the others!” he retorted. “Frankly, it’s all rather personal and I’d rather you didn’t go talking about it.”

“Of course not. I assure you; I will keep this information to myself,” he replied, which did seem to somewhat calm Janus. He had yet to remove his hand from his scales, however.

“Can I help?” Logan blurted out. He honestly hadn’t meant to ask that question for the sake of not overstepping any boundaries, but his desire to make himself useful and potentially learn more about Janus’ scales in the process had become too strong.

Janus stared back at him, surprise and skepticism clashing on his face.

“Why?”

“Well, if these scales are by any means difficult to remove I could certainly be of assistance. I wouldn’t mind helping, though it’s up to you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Janus seemed to consider this for a moment, before sighing rather deeply to himself and finally removing his hand and exposing his scales. “Fine, but you will not under any circumstances breath a word of this to anyone, understand?”

Logan nodded, already walking over to Janus. The peeling was even more evident up close, with it seeming to start at his hairline before it reached his eye. It was a fascinating sight.

“Right, what do you know about snakes shedding?” Janus asked.

“Not very much, I must admit. I know they do it fairly regularly, though the frequency decreases as they grow. I also understand that it is a natural part of how they grow as their skin essentially becomes too small for them, so it peels off at a certain point. I suspect that your odd behavior last week was symptomatic of your scales preparing to shed.”

“You do catch on quick,” he answered with a teasing smirk. “Snakes also shed their old skin in one solid piece,” Janus added. “I’m not so lucky.”

He brought a hand up and gestured to a part of his scales, near the bottom half of his jaw. There was a swatch of scales, but they did not continue down his neck or connect with the rest of the scales on his face in any way.

 “The scales on my face are pretty much self-contained, and have to be peeled off in separate patches,” his hand indicated the points where the scales ended and joined seamlessly with his skin as he spoke, highlighting their isolated placement.

Logan hadn’t really considered that before, but it did hold some merit. He couldn’t help but wonder where the rest of his scales might be, as he only saw the ones on his face.

“Anyway, I suppose I’ll demonstrate for you first so you know how to do it right,” Janus said, his tone poorly feigning nonchalance. “Can’t have you making any mistakes now, can we?”

Logan bit his tongue at that, nodding instead as Janus began.

“The scales don’t come up on their own, you have to scratch at a spot until it peels,” he started, fingers coming up to where his scales had already peeled back. “Once it peels back, it’s just a matter of slowly lifting them away from the face until it’s all off.”

He pealed the scales off while he explained, as if he were merely removing a sticker. After a minute the scales on the upper half of his face were shed and placed on the table.

“And no, I don’t eat the skin. Don’t even bother asking,” he groaned.

“I wasn’t going to,” Logan replied. “Besides, I feel like that’s a question Remus would be more inclined to ask you than me.”

Janus didn’t say anything, only letting out a small chuckle.

He started gently scratching at the scales closest to his ear next, gently pinching at the part that came loose and pulling back with the same practiced ease as before.

“Does it ever hurt at all?” Logan inquired.

“Not really, it’s more or less like peeling dried glue off of your skin,” he said with a shrug. “It’s much easier when it’s humid, makes it easier to remove.”

He finished shedding the scales on his face soon after, suddenly looking very sheepish.

“What’s the matter?” Logan asked him.

Janus took a moment to respond, not looking up at him. “The rest of the scales are in a more, sensitive area, so to speak.”

Logan felt himself flush. He couldn’t possibly mean that they were located near his…

“Well, not there, Logan, good god!” Janus hurriedly explained, putting a hand up between them as if to wave the thought away. “And here I thought Remus was the pervert.”

“You said they were in a sensitive area, though,” Logan defended. “That coupled with your clearly flustered behavior, it would only make sense to assume such a thing!”

“Just get your head out of the gutter already, will you? It’s nothing like that.”

“Well, where are your scales located then? I haven’t seen them anywhere else on your person so far, though I haven’t seen much more than your face and on one occasion your arms.”

“Just don’t be weird about it, alright?” Janus urged. He turned his back to Logan and slowly let his robe slip down his shoulders with a shaky exhale.

His back was completely covered in scales. They started from the back of his neck and continued all the way down to the small of his back before finally blending back to skin. They wrapped around to his chest in a fashion that paralleled his ribs, with thins strips of them looping up and over his collarbones as well, not quite joining the scales that extended from beneath his arms. The scales were dull and faded to a lifeless grey, but it was still a mesmerizing sight.

“If you’re just going to stare then you may as well leave,” Janus snapped, staring back at him through the mirror with a still-present blush on his cheek. “I’ve done this before on my own and I’ll do so now if you aren’t actually going to help.”

Logan apologized before gently moving his hands up to Janus’ neck. “Please let me know if I am ever hurting you or making you uncomfortable in any way,” he said before starting.

Janus quietly nodded, looking down at his lap where his hands were balled into tight fists.

 Logan started making soft, delicate scratches just like Janus had done earlier, being careful not to hurt him. It took him some time, but he finally managed to coax a small part of the scales to come up from the skin. After ensuring that Janus wasn’t bleeding or otherwise hurt, he started to gently peel away at the scales, moving slowly and carefully. The skin eventually reached his shoulders, at which point Logan briefly stopped to free up the scales that curved over to his chest, checking with Janus all the while. They came loose in the same manner as the ones from before, peeling back to join the rest of the shed skin from where he had left off. He did the same to the other side, already becoming familiar with the process. It was quickly coming easier to Logan, and he prided himself on his fast learning.

He started to guide the shed scales further downward until they wrapped around with his ribs, at which point he repeated the same process as before. He checked in with Janus the whole time, noticing him minutely relaxing more and more as time went on. His fists were no longer clenched and his eyes had slipped shut, and while he still carried some tension in his shoulders his face had softened, revealing a delicate lightness in his features. He seemed to let himself become calmer and more open the longer Logan worked, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat honored that Janus was trusting him with something this delicate.

He continued to help shed the scales, gently easing the old skin back without tugging on the newer and more sensitive scales beneath it. He noticed some light scarring by some of the edges of the skin, spots where Janus had presumably struggled to rub the scales free. He decided not to comment on that, focusing instead on gently removing the last of the old scales with one final peel.

Logan stood back for a moment, letting himself admire the sight before him. With the old skin gone, the new scales beneath it were incredibly vibrant and bright, catching the light in a rather iridescent array of colors. Yellows, greens, even shades of brown, all shiny and new. He tried his best to commit the sight to memory, certain that he may not get a chance to see it a second time.

He placed the shed skin on the table with the rest of the old scales, causing Janus to open his eyes at the sudden disruption. He sat up straighter and quickly adjusted his robe back over himself, not realizing how much he had drifted off. He eyed the pile of skin almost incredulously, lifting it up to better examine it.

“You got it all in one piece?” he asked.

Logan nodded, pleased he did well.

“I must admit I’m surprised. I half expected you to tear it somewhere down the line.”

“Have you ever done that?” Logan asked him.

Janus shook his head slightly, turning back around and looking up at him. “No, but I’ve come close. Usually, I have to start peeling at all of the edges and make my way inward until I can pull it all away. Either that or I just end up using a backscratcher. Neither method is exactly fun, though.”

“Do you often do this by yourself?” Logan couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s not like anyone else knows about it. Well, except for you now.”

“Remus and Virgil don’t know?”

Janus let out an irritated huff at that. “God no, can you imagine? Virgil would find some way to convince himself I was dying every time, and Remus would just make a mess of it for fun.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“That’s a fair point. I certainly wouldn’t want Remus putting you at risk while you shed.”

Janus arched an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden candor.

“Might I add, it is good to know that I was right.” Logan added.

“Right about what?”

“Your scales are in fact pleasantly smooth. You are not a ‘slimy boy’ as Thomas put it.”

Janus sputtered at that, eyes wide and determined to look anywhere but at Logan.

“You can’t possibly say that with a straight face,” he said.

“But I did anyway. I would also like to point out that your scales are very lovely after they’ve been shed. I almost wish you didn’t hide them so much, though I understand why you do.”

If Janus wasn’t embarrassed before, he certainly was now. He was flushed and flustered, ducking his head and floundering over his words while he struggled to say something.

“You have to stop saying things like that, you’re making a fool of yourself.” He groaned.

Logan wasn’t about to point out which of them was currently embarrassed, humming in dismissal instead. “I hope my help wasn’t too terrible, I know this is a personal matter for you.”

He shrugged again, a faint smile replacing his blush. “You didn’t do too bad, it was definitely easier with some proper assistance. I trust you still won’t mention this to the others?”

Logan smiled softly at the praise before replying. “I swear, no one will hear of this from me.”

Janus gave him a stern nod. “I intend on holding you to that.”

He held out a hand, and Logan shook it.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to join us for a movie night later in the evening, now that you’re finished shedding?” he asked, letting his tone betray his hopefulness. “I know I at the very least would enjoy your company a great deal.”

“Only as long as there’s going to be snacks and plenty of wine,” Janus answered, a teasing smirk returning to his face. “I’d kill someone over leftovers right about now.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to Janus joining him tonight.

@lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @nico-the-overlord @rougeside4 @keitaisghost @new-zee-land @yuckypuppie @can-i-take-a-stab @britt-ish123

[pi-kin-ic]

i have mature content + sexual themes hidden. i should not be seeing yalls hard kink dead dove smut fics in searches (im not even going into fandom tags btw, im a stim blog who looks for stim posts but yall r fucking everywhere). flag + tag ur posts properly. or dont, i ♡ reporting you 💕

seriously tho its fucking insane. "dont like dont read" "just filter it then" IM TRYING LOL BUT YALL REFUSE TO ACTUALLY FLAG UR POSTS AS MATURE / SEXUAL so liek uhm i hope ur blog gets deleted * tucks my hair behind my ear cutely *

its literally not hard to add community labels and i know yall are aware of that feature bc ive never posted anything like that and tumblr still spams me with the 'add community label?' popup half tha tiem i try to post anything

you cannot be all "dont liek dont read" while actively making it harder for people to get away from ur posts. "just block me then" i can have and will continue to block but the saturation of yall in tags is insane and blocking you AFTER ive seen something triggering does little to help the fact that youve already upset me

also imagine saying 'minors dni' on an explicit post that you didnt bother to mark as mature content. im not a minor but its still insane to me like how are you going to say 'adults only, minors dni !!' and then not take the very simple step of toggling a single button to make it harder for minors to interact with you. its because you dont actually care if minors interact and you just want to be able to say "well i SAID minors dni"

if people actually used the proper features that would allow me to filter out their content i wouldn't have to report them, nor would i see them in the first place 🤷🏽 oh well

from the bottom of my heart i hope that ppl who dont flag their shit get their blogs deleted. block me if u want this isnt my main and i will continue to report yall every time i see you. ur breaking tumblrs terms of service lol eat the consequences of yr actions

[avatarrecom]

Day 1: Handjob

Pairing: Poly!recoms x Recom!reader (can be read as character x reader)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: First time writing smut, so it probably sucks lol. Also, this is more a them receiving, because Z-dog and Walker obviously don't have a dick. I'm using the tag #Kinktober Avatar_Recom for my kinktober stories.

And I'm starting to use the tag #Avatar_Recom writing for all my other writing, so be sure to follow those tags!

Kinktober masterlist

🌍 Recom Miles Quaritch He would never give you full control. When you give him a handjob you’ll try to take as much control as you can. He’ll entertain it for a little while, letting you think that you actually have full control. But he quickly shuts it down when he thinks you’ve gone too far. You’ve been stroking his cock slowly, trying to edge him the best you can. Like I said, he’ll entertain it for a while, but he takes back control any time he sees fit. So the moment he thinks you’ve had your fun, he’ll grab your wrist in a bruising grip and he tells you that you better get him off, otherwise he’ll teach you how to properly edge someone… All night long if he has to. It drives him crazy when you lightly trail your nails over his cock, just a ghost of a touch. When he takes back control he’ll start moving your hand for you with a warning look in his eyes that tells you you’re gonna be in trouble if you don’t obey. When you’re finally doing what he wants, he’ll relax against the headboard, one hand still on your wrist, the other drawing lazy circles on your hip. He’ll let out breathy moans at your strokes. Shudders when you run your thumb over the slit. Refuses to cum on your hand, he only wants to come inside you.

😈 Recom Lyle Wainfleet This man turns to putty the moment your hand closes around his cock. Loves it when you have a tight grip with a few fingers at the base, while you’re stroking the rest.  Has experimented with cock rings, but loves it the most when it’s your fingers. Could totally get off on just seeing the size difference between your hand and his cock. Tries not to buck his hips into your hand, but does it anyway. Look at him through your eyelashes while stroking his cock, he’s an instant goner. Heavy breathing, hands fisted in the sheets while he tries to focus his eyes on you, with you preferably being naked ofc.

🍬 Recom Z-dog She doesn’t like not being in control and not being the dominant one with you. She also doesn’t really like receiving from you, prefers to give. You practically have to beg her, but she caves because she knows that in a way, it’ll bring you pleasure too. She’ll lean against the headboard, with you pressed to her side. You’ll have your fingers moving in and out of her cunt, while your thumb rubs circles on her clit. Her arms would be tightly wrapped around your shoulders. She’ll moan quietly, not because she’s vocal, but because she knows it’ll make you happy/proud that you can coax those sounds from her. Even while you’re fingering her, she’ll be more focused on your pleasure, than her own.

🥽 Recom Walker She’ll be so smug that you want to pleasure her. She’ll tease you the whole time. Won’t ever admit it, because she likes to tease you a lot, but you bring her more pleasure than she lets on. Won’t moan much or anything like that, because she’s too busy teasing you.  She has to touch you the entire time. Tries to rile you up as much as possible.

😎 Recom Mansk Tries to keep his composure, but fails horribly. First he’ll start with heavy breathing and groans, but it soon turns to moaning. Definitely keeps you closely in his lap, likes to take in every detail and reaction of your body. Wants to know how you feel and what you’re thinking when you’re stroking his cock. He’ll want to keep his sunglasses on so you can’t see how much it affects him when you touch his cock. He’ll squeeze his eye’s shut when you make him cum with your hands. You have to force him to take his sunglasses off, you threatened him that you’ll never touch him again if he keeps them on during steamy time.

🧯 Recom Prager He’ll kiss you deeply while you’re stroking his cock, because he gets flustered when he hears his own sounds and when you’re looking at him, with him being the only one to receive pleasure. He pants and moans the cutest. He’s weak the second you even look at his cock. Very, very sensitive tip. Like when you touch it he almost cumes. So you usually avoid touching the tip until you want him to cum. And when I say that he explodes when you fondle his tip after stroking him for some time, I mean he Explodes with capital E.

⚕️ Recom Ja He fully relaxes when you start stroking his cock. Has you straddling his thighs. His hands draw lazy circles on your hips when you’re naked, or snap the waistband of your underwear against your skin when you’re not. Praises you so much and so damn good that you can almost cum from that alone. The fluffy end of his tail is softly stroking your back. He either moans, or hums with a satisfied, relaxed and droopy smile on his face.

🧢 Recom Brown Keeps you on his lap, tightly against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies, making it kinda hard to stroke him, but you don’t mind. If he has to be naked so you can stroke him, then so have you. Definitely loves to feel the heat of your cunt against him. He 100% has his hands squeezing/spanking your ass at all times. He refuses to admit it, and you better never tell anyone outside your lovers, but this man purrs. Like full on, cat getting scratched behind the ears, mode. Speaking of ears, he loves it when you stroke him with one hand and the other is on the side of his head, stroking under and behind his ears. He’s literally a cat. But all jokes aside, he loves the intimacy of it.

📿 Recom Lopez He won’t accept being the only one who receives pleasure. Has to either have his fingers in your cunt or on your clit. Or he’ll grasp your hips, making you grind your cunt against his thigh.  He loves it when you stroke him with alternating hands, that when your right hand is at the tip of his cock, your left already starts at the base. When he receives pleasure like that, he’ll go full Mexican.  It’s like his brain just forgets English. Definitely bares his teeth in pleasure. He’ll nip at your neck the whole time.

⛓️ Recom Fike He’ll bury his face in your neck, trying to muffle his sounds. HIS WIMPERS OMG! His tail is tightly wrapped around your waist and his hands bruising your thighs, as if he’s scared that you’ll suddenly magically disappear. BUT HIS WIMPERS!! He’s so cute when you turn him to putty. Definitely babbles nonsense. He comes basically the second you touch him.

[mysticstarlightduck]

New WIP Tag Game! OC Fun Facts!

Hey! So I'm bored and want to do something fun, so here it goes a new OC tag game!

(I originally posted this in the wrong place lol, because I was hella tired yesterday, but here it goes - a repost on my actual blog lmao)

Also, pls reblog to get the game going! 💕

Rules: Make a list of fun facts about your OCs. Like a headcanon list, if you will! Except it's actually canon lol.

I'll go with some of the cast from Scrapyard Boys!

Valen Cassidy

... has never dated anyone before and despite his usual brash, occasionally hawkish, and extroverted personality, actually feels really awkward/too shy to ask anyone out

... likes pop rock, pop punk, and heavy metal. his music taste varies between happy-go-lucky, upbeat, feel-good songs and the most aggressive "I hate the world"-type heavy metal

... hyper fixates on arcade games and hates losing. like, he'll throw a full-on pity party or start an argument if he loses In front of other people

... can only sleep properly if he has his dinosaur plushie with him but will never let anyone find out

...can mess someone up in a fight, especially if he hates that person or if that person threatened his friends. like he is freakishly strong and has a very short temper - his punches are devastating and his superpower isn't even super-strength

... is a night owl and hates waking up too early. is the most grumpy, angry kid in the face of the earth up until 10AM even if he drinks a truckload of coffee

... has some anger issues and feels super bad when he accidentally snaps at/says something rude to someone without a reason - he doesn't mean to be rude, and if he happens to be stressed and loses his temper, he is very harsh on himself afterward

... can actually bake pretty well and loves making cupcakes

... hates horror movies with a burning passion but will watch them if dared just to uphold his "tough guy" reputation, and then promptly won't sleep for two nights straight afterwards

... since his power is Electrical Conduction, he can actually charge things, like cellphones and laptops, etc, if he does so very carefully

Quince Warren

... likes 80s pop music and early 2000s alternative rock songs, especially grunge

... prefers to solve things diplomatically or by talking it out, because his powers are usually lethal to others and he's scared of using his powers to this day

... likes waking up early, usually before anybody else, and sleeps so soundly he could literally sleep through the apocalypse if it happened

... could not dance properly if his life depended on it

... drinks more coffee than is probably healthy, but likely doesn't realize it isn't ideal

... cries while watching romantic comedies and gets way too invested when watching soap operas

... has unnatural pain tolerance - can probably break an arm and legit not realize anything is wrong until someone points it out

... will eat pizza for breakfast if unsupervised

... is unhingedly good at hide-and-seek to the point that his friends will give up looking for him and he'll simply emerge, seemingly from out of nowhere, and they'll have no idea where he came from

... is very respectful to others and despises people who don't respect other's boundaries

Jordan Raith

... suffers from chronic insomnia and gets pissed off when he can't sleep even though he knows to expect it, takes sleeping medicine but his superhuman metabolism refuses to let it work

... likes all things macabre, gothic, and dark, ranging from 1800s gothic romance novels to early 2000s teen horror movies, will 100% enjoy the heck out of a Halloween party

... occasionally sleepwalks and talks in his sleep almost every night

... adores fast food, especially from diners, and his favorite food to order is strawberry milkshakes with a plate of tuna sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies

... loves listening to music and is almost always wearing his headphones, has a playlist for every occasion, and his favorite music genres range from moody, dark aesthetic songs to cheesy pop songs

... has a 'bad boy style' and genuinely digs it, as he is a fan of a gothic aesthetic, and despite being a troublemaker is also a cinnamon roll

... is the most dangerous, murderous, and downright ruthless member of the main cast, even some villains are afraid of him

... has an old motorcycle

... confessed his feelings for the girl he likes (Maggie) a week after meeting her, and their first date was eating ice cream on a graveyard. they've been soulmates ever since

... hates loud noises and people who are obnoxiously loud in proximity to him

... is unpredictable and genuinely terrifying to his enemies

... is bad at handling tech and social media - gets confused easily and might post a bunch of nonsense on accident + has no patience to handle it

Emily Warren

... loves puppies and cats with her whole heart, and has a chonky cat named Sir Theodore Smothie The Third, who has the personality of a chaotic little bastard of a gremlin

... has a crush on Valen because she finds his personality endearing and he is generally a great friend but is waiting to figure out if he feels the same about her

... loves survival videogames and is very competitive when it comes to beating a high score

... despite singing rather well, likes to playfully sing as awfully as she can to annoy her brother (Quince)

... can play the guitar decently and likes learning new tunes

... rarely gets into fights but has a couple of brass knuckles and a switchblade in her pockets just in case

... dyes a single strand of her hair a different color each month, or every time she can remember to

... wears glasses and has very poor eyesight without them

... her power is Combustion and she has pretty bad control over it so she can either cause block-levelling explosions or less than nothing, and it's very much a problem

... loves musicals and boy bands - and has a poster of her favorite boy band in her room

... adds stickers to anything and everything, especially if they're glittery stickers

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[evilwriter37]

That post about people complaining about properly tagged things reminded me of something! It's a funny story, don't worry. I can laugh about it now.

Be me, age I dunno, like 12-13. Something like that.

I have recently discovered fanfiction and am searching for fluff between a ship I like. I see a birthday fic for one of the characters, boasting Character A giving Character B a special birthday gift.

The fic had no rating, nor archive warnings, and there was nothing in the tags so much as implying it was anything but pure. So I, being my naive self, clicked on it. I was excited to see what deep and meaningful gift A got B, excited to see if I understood any canon tie ins the gift had

Then they mention condoms and I "nope"d out of there and cleared the browser history. I almost read smut by accident, and the lack of rating made me think "Oh, the author just didn't feel like putting a rating," as I had seen that before.

Ah yeah, that does happen! It was very common on ff.net to do that to avoid having the story taken down. People tag a lot more thoroughly than they used to. I certainly started to once I moved to ao3!

So, uh, yeah, if the story is tagged properly and you clicked on it anyway or just outright refuse to filter out the tag? That’s on you. People need to stop putting the burden of curating their own space onto other people. Like, that’s just not how it works. The ao3 filtering system is phenomenal. People need to make use of it!

Sorry I used this to get on my soapbox once again! (Can I have some help getting down?)

Lol, younger me read the smut anyway. Whoops! 😂 That is quite funny though!

[bringtheviolence]

⠀ delta, any prns.⠀ ⠀eighteen plus, mdni.⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ more info below.⠀⠀reqs: open.

⠀⠀— yo!! my name is delta, as you see above. i go by any pronouns, but if you’d like specifics, they/them is fine. as stated above, this blog is 18+, therefore, minors are not welcome here. i’m twenty this year, so the content i post here will be intended for more mature audiences. i’m a college student, and i also work five days a week, so my schedule can be a little packed at times. but, i love to write, and i love my silly little bands, so why not make the most of it?

⠀⠀this blog was started with the intentions to share whatever ideas that have been sitting in my head for the past few years. the content i write here will be primarily rpf, centered around the band bad omens (including matt dierkes + others!). i also may write for other bands, though, such as lorna shore, sleep token, etc. i may also write some wrestling focused content! it all depends on what i’m feeling.

⠀⠀ as mentioned before, my blog will feature some mature content. this includes sensitive topics and darker themes, such as mental health. i will do my best to provide adequate trigger warnings for all of my work, but this is your heads up! however, at the moment, i do not write smut. this is simply because i do not feel confident in my own abilities to do so LMFAO. that being said, if anyone out there wants to be a ‘co-author’ of sorts, and help with writing smut scenes, should they come up (with adequate credits, ofc), i’ll always be open to that. i don’t mind writing allusions to smut, but at the moment, smut is not something i am actively writing. sorry guys ):

⠀⠀ requests, messages, asks and whatnot are currently open, and likely always will be— with the knowledge that i may not always get to requests quickly. whether you wanna chat, or have a request/ides for a fic, you’re always welcome to reach out! i have the right to deny any request i want to, and i am not obligated to provide a reason as to why. you can request anything from hcs to oneshots to moodboards, or whatever the heck else! i do have many of my own ideas for full series to write, so i don’t really take requests for those, but you are always welcome to tell me your thoughts and ideas! who knows, maybe i’ll like it and turn it into a series! be as specific and detailed with your requests— trust me, the more details, the better.

⠀⠀as of right now, there isn’t a whole lot i refuse to write, save for smut. of course, there’s the basic things— like i will not write a depiction of s/a or something of the sort. but allusions or mentions of potentially triggering topics, whether in the past or present tense, may appear in my work. of course, they will be adequately tagged, and if you feel something else should be tagged, let me know! i do not write ships at the moment. i will do my best to write most of my work with a gender neutral reader— though exceptions to this will occur.

⠀⠀i will try to adequately tag my work with appropriate tags. for example, my general oneshots and whatnot should be tagged with “#bringtheviolence fics”. works that are part of a series will also be tagged with that respective series name, and requests will be specifically tagged as such as well. posts that are not specific works and are more so just me yapping will be tagged with “#delta speaks”. this may change or be added to as i actually start to write more.

⠀⠀to close this all off, i want to clarify: while i’m not necessarily new to tumblr, i am new to actually writing and properly working tumblr and its posts and whatnot. therefore, mistakes in formatting or whatever may be common. tl;dr, idfk what i’m doing! i’m just here to write and hope somebody likes it. if u have any tips or tricks, they are greatly appreciated LOL. thank u, and i hope u enjoy what i put out! again, messages are always open. take care of yourselves ♡

[spnbabe67]

Comfortember Day 1: You're Safe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character (Sort of Friends, Sort of Lovers)

Warnings: Nightmares (Fire, smoke inhalation, near-death experience)

Summary: When Tori wakes up from a nightmare in the dead of night, Dean is there to calm her down.

Word Count: 883

This is my (late) contribution to @comfortember's November Challenge with the prompt "Safe".

Forgive me if I didn't tag/give credit right. This is really my first time doing any of this lol

Fear choked Tori like an icy hot hand around her neck, smoke thick like water prevented her from inhaling properly and left her with wracking coughs. The splinter-heavy floorboards dug into her knees, and the inferno raged around her, flames licking like the devil's tongue that left dark marks on her flushed olive skin. She tried to scream, but only a hoarse whisper passed her lips. Blunt nails scratched at her throat, trying in vain to flood her lungs with the sweet spring air that seemed to exist outside the house fire she found herself trapped in.

Tori's throat seemed to close even further like a boa constrictor around its prey with each attempt at an inhale longer than a millisecond; all Tori could manage was a feeble cough. The walls were slowly looming in, it was harder and harder to keep her eyes open, to keep fighting to breathe. Tori vaguely felt her body slump to the floor, curled into the fetal position, gasping for air. The vision at the corner of her eyes faded, a dark veil growing as the lack of oxygen slowly suffocated her.

As her vision went fully dark, Tori found herself jolting straight up in her bed, hand clutching her throat. She gasped, the euphoric feeling of cool air filling her aching lungs, an ache that receded in tandem with the terrors that drove her from slumber. Slowly, Tori's surroundings became known to her. She was in her room at the Men of Letters bunker, the only light in the otherwise dark room filtered from the hallway under her door. The flimsy material of her tank top was soaked with sweat, clinging to her dewy skin. She sucked in a shuddering breath, dropping her hand from around her throat, fisting it in the bedsheets by her side.

Tori was the furthest thing from surprised when the door to her bedroom creaked open. She had refused when Dean and Sam offered to oil the hinges; even though they ensured her the bunker was warded against anything and everything, the creaky hinge added her own personal brand of protection. The green-eyed hunter had some freaky, sixth sense thing going on, showing up at her door in the immediate aftermath or sometimes in the throws of her night terrors. She supposed he was well-versed enough in the phenomenon to notice the small tells that even Tori couldn't mask with well-placed jokes and sarcasm.

Tori looked up from where her head hung between her knees that she had propped up to her chest, dark brown eyes catching on the eldest Winchester's form, following him as he shut the door again. No words were exchanged, none were needed as Dean rounded the foot of the bed, sliding onto the mattress beside Tori. No words were needed as a warm hand laid against the feverish skin of her bicep, Tori followed the non-verbal instruction, letting her body relax back onto the bed. Tori slowly felt the tension that was wound like a spring start to dissipate as the hand Dean had on her arm found its place on her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest, fingers slipping under the damp cloth of her shirt to trace soothing circles on her stomach.

After a couple minutes of silence, Dean spoke. "Wanna talk about it?"

Tori's tongue flicked out, wetting her lips and buying herself time to decide to share the particular memory preventing her from sleeping through the night.

"It was that hunt in Cali. When that demon set fire to the house with me still in it." Tori whispered, shifting under the covers further as her body temp fell back to normal, her damp clothes cool against her skin. "Only this time, you and Sam weren't there to save me."

Dean's arm tightened around her waist, a clear indication that he remembered it. The demon they were hunting had gotten the drop on them, taking Tori and sending the brothers on a wild goose chase. By the time Dean and Sam found the house Tori was being held hostage in, it was already up in flames. Dean, against his better judgment and Sam's cries of protest, sprinted headfirst into the inferno. Tori was seconds away from death, but Dean had managed to get them both out.

"You're safe now, Tor." Dean breathed into Tori's hair, lips pressed against the downy soft strands. "I gotcha."

Tori swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and the salt water that threatened to spill down her cheeks. A shuddering sigh left her as she curled further into Dean's embrace like if she molded her body into his just right, she could hide away from the world in the primordial embrace of love and safety she craved each time the terrors reared their ugly heads. And Dean, the damn candy apple green-eyed hunter, poured that feeling from a never-ending pitcher originating in his heart.

"I know." Tori breathed, resting her head on Dean's bicep, his pulse thrumming under her ear.

Curled in on each other like kittens, they both found sleep easier than normal, basking in the comfort they provided for the other. Whenever day breaks, they know that at even at the end of the world, they can count on the other to keep them safe.

[radicallyperverted]

(OOC) tbh i agree with you about porn.

In theory I support some of it (content creation type porn puts the power in the content creator's hands) and then there's websites for married couples' sex tapes. There's always a possibility of a family member or partner abusing them like this, but the same goes for non-sexual content creation (influencers have talked about the objectification and self-objectification that comes with that). But that only means the beauty and fashion industries are just as guilty of harming women (fr there's a heroin skinny trend just as they're trying to take our rights away). This is powered by capitalism and directed by supremacists...

And porn is just as powerful a tool of propaganda as social media and television, which too many people refuse to accept because it makes them horny so surely there can't be thought put into the product.

The best I have to offer is that I've recently been introduced to the concept of moral injury, where our actions go against our morals and it affects our health. Since what went down last week, I've been making a real effort to cut exploitative shit out of my diet (bye bye target, bye bye starbucks, bye bye fast fashion), instead of just saying "I probably should...". So I'll add video porn to that list. I think my audios and erotica are fine to keep, though.

Good luck killing the shame.

insightful! I agree with a lot of your points. Good for you to cutting out studio produced stuff! I am firmly against the porn industry in essentially every way. But I don’t think the concept of pornography is like, inherently evil or anything. I think people swapping nudes or whatever is literally as ethical as it can get (even if practically everyone I know my age was groomed online as a kid into doing it for attention/validation augh…)

I do have gripes with onlyfans though even if it’s way better than the typical setup. It’s aggravating when women who post nudes from their apartment complex’s speak on behalf of all “sex workers” as if it’s comparable to prostitution lol. And the modern culture of constant sexualization and pornography everywhere to the extent you can’t even escape it if you wanted to is bleakkk!!!! All social media seems like a gateway nowadays.

As for erotica my stance is that as long as it’s tagged properly it ultimately harms no one. Maybe it can reflect and spread poor views of the writer or normalize/desensitize certain hardcore fetishes but no real people are directly hurt in any way so it’s fine. I do think a lot of the people who interact with it are disgustingly though. If you’ve ever gotten off to this blog (yes, you, reading this) I find you a bit repulsive as a person.

And when it comes to shame I think it’s normal and healthy to have a bit of it. I think being shameless about getting off to certain fantasies or reliving your trauma as a coping mechanism is deeply upsetting and should be something you work through instead of trying to make normal idk. But it’s a nuanced topic, I could rant endlessly about my gripes with kink communities on the subject. Guilt and shame is the natural response to doing something gross.

[dapperceature]

Pinned post!

Hello! I am the MOST Dapperest! (But you can call me Dapper)

I have ADHD so I hyperfixate! Right now it's undertale (a bit of Deltarune as well) but I may still interact a bit with my past ones including: rottmnt, wof, and fnaf sb (specifically the daycare attendant)

Pronouns are they/them, but if ya want you can mismatch a few, I like that!

You can make art requests and leave ideas! (Remember tho, requests are NOT commissions, so none are guaranteed, but still appreciated :D) heck! I could use some animation practice so you could leave ideas for that too!

As stated in my bio, I am a minor so please don't follow me if you're a NSFW blog (if you do have some on your blog, but it's properly tagged and ideally hidden under the cut, go ahead! Just please interact with a post of mine or something first so I know it's a genuine follow! Also if it's a side blog that's fine, just exclusively use your main blog to interact w/ me)

Some tags are!

#dapper draws <my art tag

#dapper discusses <for when I talk

#dapper designs <clay sculpting! (Rare, but still there lol)

#dapper decides <poll tag

#friend art art made by my mutuals!

I like hearing about peoples interests a lot! I find learning about pretty much anything fun if the person talking genuinely enjoys it! If you ever wanna info dump, feel free! Heck! Feel encouraged!!! It's fun and if you make fun of someone for ranting about the things that bring them joy then please rethink your view on this!! Or go back to the miserable people who also refuse to change!!!

Don't repost my art!! Stop KOSA cuz it sucks! Buy gold! Byyyeeeeee!

[notholaenas]

curious what do u not like ab x-reader stuff? like personally I don’t engage w it but I don’t see the harm in it? asking coz I saw the mischaracterisation circle in hell tag and was wondering lol, unless I’m taking it more serious than u meant it sozzers

heyy. i have no idea how old this ask is lmao i didn't ignore it on purpose i swear.

disclaimer: i don't speak for everyone, this is just this girl's opinion, no more, no less.

i myself try not to engage with it as well, mainly because reading about other people's sexual fantasies (cause essentially this is what x reader content is about, isn't it?) makes me a little uncomfortable. (also i'm not talking about the y/n imagines things, if it brings you joy and comfort, who am i to judge? yk)

my main concern isn't about the mischaracterization, strictly speaking (that's another story), but the fact that no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape it; you cannot filter it out if those who write it refuse to tag it properly. a good portion of the tags i follow here are cluttered with x reader/reader insert content even though i have the "tag" and any related expressions on mute. it's my personal preference not to consume this type of media, so naturally i take an issue with it not being presented correctly, therefore me being unable to avoid it.

as for the mischaracterization: the x reader content i happened to have the misfortune to glimpse were basically just sexual fantasies projected onto certain fictional characters, them behaving certain ways or saying things they definitely would not do/say in any other situations. and i'm not talking about fic writers taking liberties with the personalities of the characters they're writing about for the sake of an au. i'm talking the "he would not fuckin say that* type of stuff, where you basically take an oc and hide it behind [insert character's name]. if u wanna write p0rn with yourself getting into situations, that's fine by me, you do you. but i'd prefer if you leave my favorite characters alone. lol

so yeah, i didn't mean anything serious by the tag there, simply expressing my neverending frustration with a situation that cannot be helped, sadly. (i mean.... it could be helped if writers tagged their shit properly but whatever.)