#and the rest of the time you would literally do it the way that would be more intuitive for an English speaker
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My World
Day 1: Cool quiet.
Summary: Y/n's in labour. Azriel needs to stay calm.
â˘âââŚâââ˘
Word Count: 805
Warnings: labour ig? azzie being scared and sad cus yn is in pain :(
A/n: HAPPY DAY 1 OF @azrielappreciationweek YALL WOOHOOOO đĽł
all fics in the week will be like a series cus theyre all revolving around azzie and his daughter hehe but it isnt a series ig?
ANYWAY ENJOYYYY đĽł
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Rhysand did not see the shift in his spymaster. Did not see the way he stiffened, the way his eyes went distant before focusing again, fist clenched.
He said no words, nothing to indicate he knew his mate was going into labour. And if the meeting with Keir had not ended when it had and Azriel hadnât immediately winnowed away without preamble, Rhys wouldnât have even known.
Even when Rhysand and Cassian followed their brother to his house on the outskirts of Velaris, welcomed by agonising screams of Azrielâs mate, Rhysand saw him stand quietly in the hallway.
Rhysand could not fathom being that cool, that quiet if he knew Feyre was in labour.
He had to give it to Azriel, the male was great at hiding his weaknesses. And Rhysand would have been convinced he was still composed had he not seen that in the dark corridor, light glinted off of the tears rolling down his cheeks.
Azriel still did not move, standing still against the wall with his hands folded behind his back.
It shook Rhys more than him pacing and losing his mind would have.
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Azrielâs pov.
He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse himself out loud. After all, he was the reason his darling mate was going through the pain of birth.
Shouldâve resisted when she said she wanted kids.
But alas, it was now too late to do anything but stand here helpless as he heard her loud cries of pain from their bedroom.
"I- Azriel! Az-"
It took all Azriel had in him to stand outside while his mate, his wife went through unbearable pain he knew he could not even fathom of. Having your privates stretched while you had to push out a literal being was something he knew his worst wounds would look like paper cuts in comparison.
It made him respect females more at the moment.
Through the bond, he felt flashes of hot agony and cold pain, but he was aware it was nothing, nothing compared to what his mate was going through.
The door opened the slightest bit, the worried eyes of an apprentice healer peeking out. "Spymaster? Madja said you can come in to soothe your mate."
Instantly, Azriel was hurrying inside the room, his eyes finding his mate lying on the bed.
Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.
But how could he, seeing as the one person he could ruin the world for, was sobbing, tears running down her face in constant streams, aided by the sweat gathering on her skin?
He hurried over to her side, her palm instantly finding his.
"My love, Iâm here."
She gasped in pain, nails digging into his palm.
Cool. Stay cool. It will be fine.
"Just one more push dear, then you can rest."
Azriel turned his head to Madja when she said that, relief spreading through his veins. At least the torture Y/n was going through would be over soon.
Y/n nodded, meeting Azrielâs eyes. Even while she was pushing out their baby, she found it in herself to offer him a weak smile.
Be calm.
Not even a moment after Y/n dropped back down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, loud cries filled the room. Azriel leaned down, placing his forehead against his mateâs. She smiled up at him, her eyes tired.
"No more babies. Y/n, Iâm telling you, I cannot see you in pain."
Y/n had the audacity to pout. "But what if our baby gets lonely?"
He shook his head, kissing Y/nâs cheek. "I wonât let them get lonely."
He straightened when he heard footsteps approaching, lifting his head to look at Madja, who grinned at them over the babyâs head. "Itâs a daughter."
Tears gathered in Azrielâs eyes as Madja leaned down, his daughterâs face coming into view for the first time. Azriel could not look away.
Sheâs beautiful.
Her eyes are so pretty.
She stared back at him with wide eyes.
Donât cry. Stay calm. Stay quiet.
Fuck calm. Fuck quiet.
He let the tears fall as Y/n placed a hand on his arm, telling him to take his daughter. And even though he did not want to taint the pure soul made of him and his beloved, he extended his arms. Y/n had had the time of months to scold and train Azriel to not be scared of his own child.
The moment Madja stepped out of their room, Azriel let out an involuntary sob, accompanied by a look in his mateâs direction, who was crying too.
"I love her so much."
She nodded, giggling. "Me too." After a pause, she continued. "Hazel. Thatâs what we decided."
He nodded, unable to look away as he leaned down to press his lips to her tiny forehead.
"My world."
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[Image: screenshot of a Reddit post from r/parenting reads "6:30 AM conversions with an ADHD kid (before meds kick in)
Her: mom, do you think there are sniffing cats? Me, who hasn't had the fucking chance to pour a cup of coffee yet: uh? Her: yeah, like you know how there are sniffing dogs at the airports, do they have sniffing cats? Me: I have no clue but i don't think so. Her: ok.
20 secs later Her: mom, do adults loose their teeth? Me (screaming in my head and glancing at the bottle of vodka "it's always 5 o'clock somewhere"): no, Sof, only children loose their baby teeth. Her: why? Me: cause they are temporary. Her: why? Me: i dunno, cause that's what happens Her: ok.
Another 20 secs later Her: mom? Me (" omfg, kill me now!): we have to go NOW, or we are gonna miss the bus!
Is it 5 o'clock yet (here in Michigan)?" /End ID]
I have watched my late diagnosed ADHDer partner dissociate for days on end because he forgot to fold a towel the way I like. When we first started dating, he thought I would break up with him because he spilled something on the floor.
He is one of the kindest, smartest, coolest people I know and I love seeing when his brain sparks. He has supported me through recovery from being hit by a car, a toxic workplace taking away all my joy, and the symptoms of multiple severe disabilities, but I know he still worries deep down that I'll stop loving him if he leaves a cup out one too many times.
Reading these posts makes me disgusted and devastated. Every one of those kids deserves better, and the way those parents speak is not blowing off steam. Talking shit about our disabilities is a love language in many of my friendships, but I couldn't imagine thinking the way those parents do about my loved ones even on my worst days.
Also, this kind of trauma is insidious. You are communicating to your child how much you hate them, but they don't have the social of emotional maturity to recognize it. There's no need to weigh and compare childhood trauma, but this self loathing is a belief that will be reinforced silently for the rest of their lives. Every breakup, every friend that stops texting, every job they don't get will be framed through this.
To parents like this: please get help. You are quite literally traumatizing your children in a way they will struggle to even explain.
To the kids: you deserve so much love. You are valuable to the world (there's literally research backing up how ND people make groups better). There are people who will absolutely adore you. It can be so much better, and no one should treat you this way.
I ended up on r/ADHDparenting (a subreddit about parenting kids with ADHD, not about being a parent with ADHD) and Jesus fuck.
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141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Say the Word Author's Notes: I have no clue how the military works or even how a base looks like and not gonna lie I donât respect it enough to do research. Warnings: MDNI, Racism
Ghost really wished he was a better man. Because a better man would have thanked you for your gift instead of ridicule you for it. A better man would have dropped everything to be at your side. A better man would have chosen you over duty.Â
But alas Ghost is just a ghost. A husk of a man. A monster.Â
But if thereâs one silver lining here is that only a monster can recognize another monster and Ghost knew that look in Niktoâs eyes â itâs the same one he sees everyday in the mirror. Ghost couldnât protect you from himself but that doesnât mean he wonât try to protect you from this new monster.Â
So as you inch your face closer to Niktoâs mask to hear him, Ghost does not hesitate to rip you from the Russianâs jaws.Â
âNikto!â he barks. Nikto slowly turns, almost annoyed by the sudden intrusion while you fly back, feeling ashamed for�� talking. When this is all over, Ghost will rid you of this guilt. He promises.Â
âYou should stand next to me. Will make it easier when I introduce you to the rookies,â Ghost explains. The two lieutenants were tasked in going over basic combat skills with the rookies.Â
(And you were here because youâve been wanting to dust off your own skills and after you heard Nikto was joining Ghost this time around, you felt more comfortable in joining.)
Nikto begrudgingly makes his way over to Ghost, leaving you alone on the mats. And just on cue, the rookies walk into the training room. They surround you with sadly, your âfavoritesâ opting to stand at both of your sides.Â
Ghost quickly introduces Nikto and splits the room in half. One half would work with Nikto while the other with him. Ghost pretends not notice the âhelp meâ look your shot at Nikto when you got stuck with him. That was his imagination⌠that had to be in his head.Â
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, Ghost walks up to his group and quickly goes over todayâs lesson plan: submission, how to take down your opponent without any weapons. Easy and just the perfect way to get under you⌠for professional reasons, of course. After calling you as his partner, which your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he said so, he asks the rest to pair up and take a spot on the mats.Â
However, before the group split, one of the rookies that especially loved to give you a hard time, spoke up.Â
âLieutenant, quick question?âÂ
âMake it quick,â Ghost snaps. You are literally about to throw him to the ground. He needs this rookie to shut up.Â
âDoes the pencil pusher really need to be here? Theyâre literally just taking space,â he asks. The rookie shoots you a taunting smile.Â
You couldnât believe it. You felt your body go hot.
âSay that one more time,â you spit back. You got in his face. Fuck professionalism.Â
And it seemed like the rookie agreed as he got in your face as well. âLearn your fucking place,â he hisses. âYouâre just a means to check off a box. No one actually wants you here so why donât you go back to your office and fuck off, â!â Your ears start ringing at that last word. He towers over you and stares straight into your eyes. Pure hatred is in his eyes.Â
You havenât felt this level of anger in so long. Fuck this guy. Fuck this job. Fuck the 141. Fuck the military. Fuck everyone. You pull your arm back ready to swing whenâŚ
Nikto flies past you, throwing the rookie to the ground. He starts to wail on the dumb fuck. The rookieâs little posse tries to pull Nikto off but itâs no useâ Nikto pushes them off like nothing. You remain still and watch the scene before you.Â
And youâre not the only one. Ghost is in utter shock. In the matter of seconds, Ghost was cockblocked, you were disrespected, and a rookie was getting his face caved in and Ghost didnât do anything. He just watched. Ghost is a man of action. But he just couldnât at this moment. Why?
âLieutenant!â one of the rookies shriek. That finally breaks Ghost of his trance. He rushes over to Nikto and pries the man off the rookie. The fellow lieutenant fights back. However before Ghost can really get into it with the Russian, your voice is heard.Â
âNikto,â you say. No emotion, just a statement. You look at the two and just shake your head. Nikto stops and moves towards you. He cradles your face and gently buds his head into yours. He grabs your hand and begins to walk out the training room with you when he turns around.Â
He stares daggers in Ghostâs face and hisses.
âAsk yourself this lieutenant! Why did he feel comfortable enough to disrespect your teammate in front of your face?âÂ
And with that he leaves with you, leaving Ghost with the question he didn't know the answer to.
Word Count: 838
More Thoughts - Next Thought
#cod x reader#cod x poc!reader#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#nikto x reader#141 x reader
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NNN - matt sturniolo - period help
You and Matt were laying in his bed together, limbs tangled with one another as your eyes were focused on the movie you were watching. Here and there, matt would make some remark, causing you to rebutted against it â and occasionally your laughs mingling with one another as you joked about the movie.
âNo â no, she definitely has feelings for that kid. I mean she literally acts so dumb in front of him and not around anyone else.â you argued, propping yourself up onto one arm as you spoke to matt.
He shrugged, âi donât know â i donât see how, i mean she acts dumb around other people too. how can you rule this out to her liking him?â he asked, his hand coming up to poke at your temple. You just rolled your eyes, âI have a feeling.â you retorted back.
He hummed, taking his eyes away from you to train back onto his tv, your own doing the same as you settled back into his side. After a while, you felt the urge to pee â having drank all that water and sodas not long ago.
So you carefully shifted, trying to shimmy your way out of mattâs grasp. But, when you shifted to slide off the bed, you felt the unmistakable feeling of warmth between your legs â and your body froze. Your eyes went wide, looking down to where your body sat on mattâs bed, seeing the stain of red under you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the embarrassment seep into you. âFuck â fuckâ
You shifted uncomfortably, hoping that matt wouldnât notice how ridge your body went. But to no surprise â matt always being attentive of you â you heard his voice behind you, soft and concerned.
âSweetheart, are you alright?â he asked, his hand coming out to rest against your shoulder, rubbing small circles. You swallowed, letting out a breath you didnât realize you were holding.
You nodded slowly, opening and closing your mouth a few times before looking over your shoulder at him. âI just â uh ââ you stammered, your gaze falling to your lap and the bed again. Matt furrowed his brows, moving on the bed to sit beside you. His gaze now looking down to where yours was at, and his face softened.
âOh baby,â he whispered, his hand now resting on your lower back. âAre you okay?â he asked, tilting his head to look at yours better. You looked at him, face red with embarrassment. âmhmâŚyou â you arenât grossed out?â you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You wanted the world to open and swallow you whole.
He shook his head, his body now moving to stand as he moved in front of you â holding his hand out. âItâs a natural part of you, why would i be grossed out by something you canât control?â he said, and you head tilted back to look at him before putting your hand into his.
He helped pull you up, the gross feeling still clinging to your skin. âDo you need me to run you a shower baby?â he asked, and you nodded. âyes please.â
He hummed, letting your hand go and walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants, also grabbing a pair of your underwear you seem to have left here. He walked past you, going out the bedroom door and into his bathroom to start the shower for you â making sure it was hot enough.
When he was done, he came back into the room, you body still planted where he left you. Holding out his hand again for you to take, he tugged you toward the bathroom. âDo you need anything else while youâre in the shower? snacks, heating pack?â he asked softly, letting you step into the bathroom as he began to turn away.
âUhâŚsome of those rice cakes with peanut butter and a heating pack please.â you muttered, and he smiled, walking away toward the kitchen as you closed the bathroom door.
When you were finished with your shower, getting dressed into the clothes matt picked out for you and using a pad (or tampon) from the pack you kept here just in case â you wandered out of the bathroom.
You set the towels in the washing machine before pivoting and walking into mattâs room. The sheets on the bed were already changed and the things you requested were already there waiting for you. You smiled softly, walking over to the bed. You didnât hear mattâs footsteps behind you, his arms wrapping around you.
You jumped slightly, a giggle then following. âThereâs my pretty girl.â he mumbled into your neck, pressing a few light kisses there. You couldnât help but smile more, letting your head tip back to rest on his shoulder. Matt pressed one last pec to your neck before pulling away, âI got everything you requested and-â he paused, bringing something around in front of you. â- i figured you might want this guy.â he held mr.wrinkleton up in front of you, swaying him back and fourth.
A big grin spread across your face as your hands reached to grab the stuffed pug, wiggling out of mattâs grip to turn around. âYouâre the best, did you know that?â you said, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the small of your back once more. âI mean, iâd do anything to make you comfortable â i hope you know that.â he admitted, and you nodded in understanding.
âSo â want to get back into bed now?â he asked, already detaching himself and going to his bed. You gave him a look that already spoke for itself, walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.
Once you were situated, you turned your head to matt, holding his stuffed pug close to your chest. âI do want one more thing though.â you said, and mattâs eye brow raised slightly. âYeah? whatâs that?â
You smiled, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over his slowly. âLots and lots of cuddles.â
Š strnilolover
#áŻâ
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Mit2uba's Trauma: An Analogy
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Tw: I will be discussing the abuse Mitsuba has suffered from his environment, nothing that isn't in the manga, but I want to give a heads up. Additionally, I'm fortunate to have not gone though any severe traumatic experience myself, and am instead using my general knowledge, meaning if anything is incorrect here, please point it out!
(Also manga spoilers obviously)
I'm not pretending this hasn't ever been discussed, however I have yet to see an analogy of the consequences of Mitsuba's creation and (practically nonexistent) upbringing.
I'm going to divide this post into sections, but they won't really be organized, maybe chapters is a better definition. This thing is l o n g, so without further ado:
1: Mitsuba being paralleled to a puppet:
This is done quite often, although not in the same ways. Besides the psychological aspects of being Tsukasa's "puppet", as in being forced to do as he says and overall being under his control, but there are physical correlations too.
Tsukasa referring to Mitsuba as a "Thing"
Mitsuba lets Tsukasa hold him. This is much more then a surface-level fact considering Mitsuba usually rejects contact/uses it as an excuse to blame others. This is easily explained by "Mitsuba is simply scared of Tsukasa, he can't tell him no", except Mitsuba doesn't look scared when being held, he just looks, expressionless.
More then that, he completely trusts Tsukasa with his body weight, leaning into his touch and allowing himself to be comforted by it. This obviously occasionally backfires horribly
While Mitsuba being punched is framed in a humorous manner, the implications and weight of it are very heavy. It's all fun and games until you remember this is how Mitsuba is being raised, and it's all he's ever known. If Mitsuba doesn't want to do what Tsukasa tells him too, he gets punched. If he talks back, he gets kicked out of the broadcasting room (we'll get back to this later). If he asks to be Tsukasa's friend, he gets fireworks shoved down his mouth.
And the results of this... well:
This one in particular is interesting to me:
"It's just Mitsuba being surprised because Kou suddenly raised his voice". But that's not what's being illustrated. Upon hearing "brace yourself" even from someone like Kou, who wasn't planning on actively trying to hurt Mitsuba, he literally stiffens, pales, and begins to tremble and sweat, dropping the piece of chalk he was holding (those things break way to easily, yk he was serious). It's not shock or surprise being drawn, it's just genuine fear.
This could very well be me overthinking, but Mitsuba falls in what is almost a doll-like manner, arms and legs completely stiff.
2: Social rejection and trivial treatment:
The Mitsuba chapter (ch. 40) was worse then I remembered.
Mitsuba runs away from the broadcasting room in search of a better, safer place to stay. Only to understand he has none.
What's worse is that these are the characters we see being far kinder to the rest of the cast. We see Yako, Hanako and weirdo super-natural teacher together in his living quarters, watching tv together, but when Mitsuba approaches them...
(Tsuchigomori eventually does stay with him, but his opinion of him doesn't really change.)
"This guy's a pain, I'm out of here"
Tsuchigomori doesn't know Mitsuba, the only time we see them meet was when Tsuchigomori refers to him as emergency rations (above), and when he answered Mitsuba who asked him a question (answer starting with "You seriously don't know?" (YES SIR HOW WOULD HE KNOW HE'S LIKE ONE MONTH OLD)).
He probably heard he's a prankster from Hanako, which is why he wants nothing to do with him.
The point is despite Mitsuba needing to run from the closest thing he considers a "home", not a single supernatural actually understands his situation. Hanako borderline hates him, Nene barley understands he's a different Mitsuba, and Kou tends to accidently frame it as Mitsuba's CHOICE to stay with Tsukasa in the broadcasting room.
This is sadly something that can happen in reality, children trying to escape their less-desirable homes can often find themselves, sickeningly, returning after not finding somewhere or someone to take them seriously.
The most deranged part of this is that as a result of nobody properly digesting that he needs help, Mitsuba himself frequently convinces himself that everything is normal.
The implication that every time Mitsuba fights with Tsukasa he needs to just fend for himself until enough time has passed for Tsukasa to forget is sad. He's an outcast between the wonders for replacing the old No.3, despite his only other choice being death, which they don't know.
Sakura is probably the closest thing Mitsuba has to family, being in a similar situation to him, but it's incorrect to say she truly deeply cares about him. She's fond of Mitsuba, but never goes out of her way to help him when Tsukasa hurts him, and seems to have put her personal safety and goals as a higher priority then him (this isn't Sakura slander, I love my queen).
Natsuhiko treats him like a pet more then a human, and sometimes hits on him, which is just gross. Despite this Mitsuba genuinely appreciates him and sees him as an older brother. It's cruel to see this one-sided ordeal.
We don't actually know Mitsuba's true opinion of Tsukasa. In an almost realistic manner, his opinion is constantly contradictory. Mitsuba is scared of Tsukasa, but at the same time he only feels 'safe' when he's around.
Also, contrary to Sousuke, Mitsuba is more scared of Tsukasa then thunder, which could either mean that Sousuke's phobia of thunder was memory-correlated, or that Mitsuba is SO scared of Tsukasa that thunder is nothing in comparison.
Mitsuba freezing after hearing Tsukasa's voice
vs:
We know Mitsuba is aware that Tsukasa is not treating him okay, but by the time we learn this (pp arc), Mitsuba has half convinced himself that Tsukasa is doing everything he's doing to help him, and that "nobody else can help him anyways". Genuinely Mitsuba is one of the most subtle-yet-obvious victims portrayed in media I've even seen.
3: Ok-yeah-that's-not-okay moments
Do I really need to add anything.
I will anyways. Mitsuba is a dramatic by nature, unrelated to any of the emotional damage he's suffered. The fact that Tsukasa can make him stop crying just by demanding it really shows how bad he messed up Mitsuba. The ability to stop crying on command out of fear..... somebody save him.
Stay away!
Can't add to many pictures because of the tumbler limitations, but in every one of these scenes Mitsuba totally freezes, only regaining control and suddenly snapping once someone (aka Kou) does anything intimidating to him.
Going in-depth about the similarities between Kou and Tsukasa is an entirely different ordeal, but in short summery:
There's a carefully built connection between Tsukasa and Kou, that deserves a post of it's own.
4: Symptoms of trauma:
Trust issues are heavily associated with a problematic childhood, so it's not very surprising that Mitsuba struggles to trust anyone besides Tsukasa, even if he doesn't want to.
Very commonly appearing alongside trauma, self destructive behaviors are a tragically common coping habit. I don't think I need to add any pictures for this one, as practically every other sentence Mitsuba says have some 'Just let me pass away' coding to it.
Lack of memories is a symptom that appears in very severe cases, and while it isn't completely accurate to Mitsuba it's an interesting addition considering Mitsuba has no memories.
5: Character design:
Mitsuba has lots of chains and locks in his wonder form, a lock on his neck (which has multiple interpretations), one preventing his heart from beating, which could be a clever metaphor for Mitsuba further constricting his humanity by "choosing" to become a wonder, but most interesting:
What looks to be the remains of a leg shackle.
Mitsuba in a box labeled as fragile.
6: This definitely isn't a metaphor for an eating disorder:
"I'm always hungry, no matter how much I eat" -M
"You starved yourself from all this moping around, just because you didn't want to eat something different?" -K
Can we talk about how the fandom collectively just skipped over the huge reveal that Mitsuba STARVES HIMSELF. Because I feel like that really wasn't talked about. As if this guy doesn't have enough going on, he now has to deal with constant starvation, dehumanization at new never-seen-before-pace, and the loss of his will to exist in the first place.
He is both metaphorically and physically falling apart, constantly in physical pain. When he isn't in physical pain it's because he's experiencing gut-wrenching psychological torment as he can't stop eating live beings. I don't blame this guy.
The only person who knew of this was Tsukasa, until he "told" Kou. Told is in quotation marks because it was never really Mitsuba trusting Kou enough to open up about the hell he's enduring, as mentioned before Mitsuba doesn't exactly know how to trust. The fact was forced out of him due to a dire situation, but Kou could not have reacted in a worse way:
Pro tip: If your reaction to learning that your best buddy is suffering from a complicated relationship with food, is shoving said food into their mouth violently, you might need therapy just as much as they do.
Kou is still unaware that Mitsuba's diet contains living things too, but if we're being honest that doesn't really put Kou in the right here. Like, man, I know you're freaking out because your friend just asked you to end him, but please take out your anger on something that isn't him.
And don't act surprised when this is his reaction:
This is arguably the a result of post traumatic stress disorder. Mitsuba didn't just escape, he hid in the nearest corner, making himself as small as possible, hid his head and trembled. The reason I'm calling this out as PTSD is because the only other time he panicked like this was right after Tsukasa shoved the bird heart down his throat.
So for both situations it's:
Tsukasa force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba loses control (starts attacking everything)
Kou force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba bites Kou
And the results are the same. He reacted the same way because mentally it was the same situation to him, It doesn't matter what the intentions were, Kou triggered an event(s (considering he's eaten multiple supernatural and is absolutely repulsed by it)) that Mitsuba had no intention of revisiting.
Summery:
Mitsuba's trauma is often overshadowed by more obvious displays of mental scarring, like with the Yugi twins and Kou, and is often represented with irony or humor, including by the creators themselves.
Even without everything he's gone though, Mitsuba was always a hopeless character. He just existed one day. He doesn't have anything, anyone. He's never been told he's loved, he's never felt sunlight, he never got to play, he's never had anyone tuck him into bed, or read him a story. He was robbed of his childhood, and any connections besides the few who remember him for someone that he isn't.
He doesn't even know what snow is, yet he knows how blood tastes like
This entire post wasn't even scratching the tip of the iceberg in terms of how much grave emotional turmoil Mitsuba has faced. And will face. Yeah I don't know how well his trust issues will cope with Natsuhiko leaving him to die. If he lives.
The idea of this long rant was to point out that Mitsuba's trauma and mental struggles are just as, if not more, relevant then his physical ones. And they do affect him, and they do have consequences. And they will most certainly come back 20x worse later on in the plot. I would say to prepare mentally, but I know tbhk fans can handle just about anything.
Thank you for reading!
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Dude yeah Solas going back to the prison is so dumb to me. Like I assumed before seeing Trickâs post they he and the inquisitor were going into the fade itself to where he sealed the dreams or whatever. But instead Iâm going to take my wife to my divorcee empty ass apartment where the ghosts of my past call me a wet loser? What?
JHGKEJRGHKERJHGKREJGH no ur right. i think it genuinely only works when you look at it from a mythological story perspective rather than the two of them as individual people... which is interesting because their whole stories are kind of about how they lose themselves to the myth that surrounds them... so i think its supposed to be the ultimate conclusion of that.
they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.
however the major caveat to this is i do not think this is presented nearly clear enough in veilguard. the only reason i am able to create such wonderful, deep meaning from this is honestly because my bachelor's degree is in literature and i literally have formal academic training analyzing storytelling. and it took me like a week to actually sift through all this in my brain and go back and sift through lines and images in the game to support my analysis. it should not take that much work, it should have been more clear. because yeah, the first time you play it it absolutely feels like your girly pop lavellan is making the WORST, down-bad delulu decision of her life while the rest of the world is screaming GIRL DUMP HIM!!!!!!!! and im not suggesting im smarter than anyone for looking at it âthe right wayâ or anything like that. im saying that i think in order to get the meaning from it that the writers intended, you have to look at it through a very specific literary lens, and that is something that most people are not going to default to⌠because why would you? the story should lead you there on its own. there shouldnât be a niche prerequisite to enjoying the ending. a few more lines about people made into myths, much like those we got throughout inquisition, couldâve helped facilitate this. they did a great job of hammering in the regret and choice themes to the point it was like beating a dead horse with a stick. and there are a few good lines that kind of give this vibe (âyouâre not JUST the inquisitor, right?â âthey call me the dread wolf, what will they call you when this is over?â âthere is no fate but the love we share,â a codex from felassan about solas being forced to play into the dread wolf persona, etc.) but they probably couldâve added a few more to talk about mythological apotheosis and choice in the context of fate rather than just in the context of regret, and it wouldâve helped at least a bit.
so i fully understand peoples discomfort with the ending as a result. i think itâs a logical conclusion to come to based on how the story presents itself. however im pretty confident that this mythological vibe was tricks intention, based on a lot of their comments about their writing process and inspiration for solas, and the way they have written him overall. @corseque has a lot of amazing posts in her solas tag that talk specifically about the very deliberately mythological way that weekes wrote solas, and i think this is essential context for understanding the ending that the game simply does not sufficiently provide. it also definitely invalidates a lot of people's perceptions of not just their inquisitor, but the solavellan romance as well. however i hope me blabbing about how it can be absolutely brilliant when viewed through a specific lens might help people feel more at peace with it <3
#OK U GUYS HAVE TO STOP PROMPTING ME TO WRITE ESSAYS I HAVE TO GO DO WORK JERHGKJERHGJKREG#but thank u for this <3#solavellan#solas#veilguard spoilers#datv spoilers#da:v spoilers#dav spoilers#mine.txt#meta#ask
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little tiny fic, a missing scene of sorts? just after niko outsmarts the night nurse near the end of episode 7 đŤś
â
âOh, did you guys know, zombies are real,â Niko says, and Charles is sure he would be more intrigued by that if she had said it at any other time, after any other event. Heâll have to ask her about that later. For now, he settles for a little sound of astonishment.
His mind is more occupied with what she did just before that, having managed to buy him and Edwin more time on earth â together â via outsmarting a literal transdimensional being.
âThanks,â he breathes out, shock still bouncing around inside him like a pinball. Niko might really be an angel, he thinks. There should really be a halo floating above her head, to match her inhuman kindness.
Edwin shifts beside him, âYes, thank you, Niko.â His voice is shaky. Charles looks over, and Edwin meets his gaze. The sight alone could kill Charles a second time, if that were possible. Despite being back in his nice, unbloodied clothing, Edwin looks just as broken as he did on the stairs, with watery eyes and an expression of clear exhaustion.
He makes a face, which Charles realizes is a sorry attempt at a smile, and his heart aches. âAnd thank you, Charles. For coming to get me.â
Without saying anything, Charles makes a move toward Edwin, pulling him into the tightest hug he can manage. Edwin tenses for only a second, before he wraps his arms around Charles in return.
âAlways, mate.â
Charles feels Edwin melt into him, like butter in a saucepan. His head finds a place to rest on Charlesâs shoulder, as he releases an unsteady sigh.
And god, Charles means it when he says âalways.â He couldnât live (figuratively speaking, anyway) without Edwin beside him, Edwin sighing in his arms, Edwin rolling his eyes fondly when he cracks a bad joke, Edwin solving cases with that clever brain of his. He wouldnât be able to stand it. Maybe he would just dematerialize, or something.
He would go to Hell a million times, if he had to. Heâd run up and down that staircase a million times and throw however many molotov cocktails it took to get Edwin out safe.
Thereâs not one thing he wouldnât do to stay with Edwin.
Charles holds him a little tighter. Heâs not sure heâll ever be ready to let go. Hopefully Edwin wonât mind; it might be a little hard to solve cases this way, but they could make due.
They will have to, because Edwin is solid and real against him, and they are not in Hell anymore, and itâs all Charles ever needs. Since he died, he has not wanted Death or The Night Nurseâs Heaven. He found his thirty-four years ago, and it is greater than anything they could offer.
With mild difficulty, Charles manages to pull back just far enough to make good eye contact. Edwinâs eyes are gray and green and they hold the whole world in them; Earth, Heaven, and Hell displayed in hues fit for an angel, a holier trinity than anything the bible could ever fathom.
Edwin takes a shuddering breath, and Charles wants to cry â wants to go back in time and take Edwinâs place.
âIâm glad you guys are okay,â Crystal says, after what feels like years. Charles tears his attention away from Edwin in his arms, to look at her. He thinks he should probably feel bad for not allowing her to go to Hell with him, but it was no place for her.
No place for Edwin, either.
âMe too.â
Niko nods, âMe three.â
Charles cracks a smile. âGlad weâre in agreement.â
Edwin squeezes Charlesâs arm tightly before letting go of him and taking a small, singular step backward, and Charles mourns the loss instantly.
They have time, thanks to Niko, he reminds himself. Literally forever.
He hugs Niko next.
#sillygirlwriting#fanfiction#dead boy detectives#dbda#payneland#charles rowland#edwin payne#niko sasaki#crystal palace
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A couple questions for you!
1. Do you think Nic saw/ was made aware of her lock screen being found and analyzed?
2. Was her insta stories post planned or random?
3. Do you think sheâll have to change her current strategy in dealing with all of this?
Personally, I think the longer she stays quiet the more certain people are going to try and invade her privacy in search of âevidenceâ and âproofâ
Hey anon.
1. She is probably aware of this. I have to amend this whole section because I literally canât find the screenshot I saw anywhere in the HB post. But we know they lurk on Twitter and it exploded there before anywhere else. Itâs unfortunate but we they see these things probably regularly and if they donât, I imagine theyâre told so they know whatâs being said.
2. The insta post of her old picture afterward? Idk. Iâm on the fence with that tbh. With Lukeâs old photo shoot pic shared out the next day I would think thereâs possibly a connection to be made or it could just be random. A memory that popped up and the photog decided to share.
3. I think there might need to be some changes but ultimately, at some point, something has to give. Continued silence is fueling the fire but if she speaks will that make it worse? She also might not be willing to speak because she doesnât owe anyone an explanation when fans are making things up on their own. This seems like a difficult situation from an outsiders perspective.
Time will tell when the plan is so right now all we can do is continue to support her and the both of them while the rest continue with the narrative.
The truth always comes out at some point, one way or the other.
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@zepskies
Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!
Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...
âI hope youâve learned your damn lesson,â he says. Your gaze snaps up to his. âExcuse me?â Deanâs hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. âNext time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,â he all but growls.Â
I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."
And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:
"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.
AND
"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.
I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.
You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood youâre in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you couldâve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that youâre still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.
Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.
Or at least that's how I took this bit đ
.
Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.
It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Deanâs smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. Then the rest of it tumbles through his mindâwhat he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How heâd did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when heâd grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.Â
Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.
His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.
You realize then what Deanâs really saying. Heâs afraidâŚafraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain heâs trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. And just like that, the water works start. You canât quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. âYou donât have to cry for that,â he says, a bit teasing. âHave you met me?â you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. âIâm sorry too. God, Iâm so sorry, Dean.âÂ
She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.
This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.
The problem is, you didnât just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadnât been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.Â
Hoping for some FORESHADOWING đđťđ
Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.
And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao đ¤Ł
Often heâs one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize heâs probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesnât change whatâs imprinted in both of your minds.  A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. âIâm okay,â you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that heâs still thinking far too much.
I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.
And also the final scene đđśď¸ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.
ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:
âWhat, now youâre shy?â he remarks. And he has to laugh. âCome back here.â
I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.
Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.
I love you, youâd said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.Â
Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:
âAll right, Sammy. Go to your room,â he chides playfully (but he means it). âThe adults are havinâ a moment.â
It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! đ
Devour Me - Part 2
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!ReaderÂ
Summary: When you and Dean start to press each otherâs buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lessonâŚone he didnât exactly ask for. (18+)
AN:Â Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1
Song Inspo: âYo No Se MaĂąanaâ by Luis Enrique. But really itâs âVen DevĂłrame Otra Vesâ by Lalo Rodriguez. (Youâll see why.) đ¤
Word Count: 5,400
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.
â Midnight Espresso Masterlist
Part 2: "Telenovela Style"
Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.
Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.Â
Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.Â
No matter how you struggle and whimper, you canât push him off, and youâre getting weaker by the second.
Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesnât even feel the blade coming.Â
When youâre able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesnât have time to consider what heâs just done.Â
He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.Â
âDean,â you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.
âGotta stop the bleeding,â he says, apologetic but firm. âKeep pressing.â
In your stupor of pain, you donât realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.Â
Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.
The two of them work together, and with Castielâs smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.Â
By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girlâs heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.Â
Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meetâs Casâs blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.Â
Youâre healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.
The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.Â
He shifts so he can see your face. âYou okay?âÂ
You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you canât blame him.Â
You know youâve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourselfâŚand now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.Â
Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until youâre steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.Â
âI hope youâve learned your damn lesson,â he says.Â
Your gaze snaps up to his. âExcuse me?â
Deanâs hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.Â
âNext time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,â he all but growls.Â
You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.
âI made a mistake, but that doesnât give you the right to tell me what to do,â you shoot back. âI was a hunter long before I met you.âÂ
âYeah, well, color me surprised that youâve made it this long,â he snaps.Â
Your temper flares hotter. âYou know, youâre not so goddamn perfect either.âÂ
âNever said I was,â Dean says. âBut when my gut tells me something ainât right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.â
His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you donât appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.
âI donât care what that legendary gut tells you,â you sass back. âIâm not a little girl, and youâre not my damn father!â
Dean raises incredulous brows at the way youâre shouting at him. He crosses his arms.Â
âWhatâs this, some kind of Latina temper?â he asks snidely.Â
You truly become incensed at that.Â
âOh, you want to take it there?â you ask, as your eyes narrow. âQue sin vergĂźenza tĂş eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coĂąo. Entonces tĂş vas a ver quien soy yo.â
Dean wonât admit it, but in that moment, heâs a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and heâs way beyond curbing his internal filter.
âOh, Iâm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?â he snarks.Â
You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.
âYouâre such an asshole!â you shout back. There, understand that?
You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the deadâŚincluding Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.Â
Dean calls your name in frustration.Â
âWhat?â you hiss.Â
The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. Theyâve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.Â
Youâre still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.Â
Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.
You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. Itâs a fruitless effort.
After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.Â
You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.
What Sam told him (but he wonât tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken AndyâŚto âadoptâ a son of their own.Â
That night is quiet and tense in Deanâs room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you donât have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.Â
Dean knows that itâs bad when you need the âdreamcatcher,â as heâs called it in his head. Youâve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.Â
You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood youâre in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.Â
He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you couldâve gone to your old room.
So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that youâre still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.Â
He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.
In the morning, Deanâs woken by the familiar smell of coffeeâŚand the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.Â
What the fuck?
After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. Youâre mopping the floor, of all things. Youâre out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.Â
âYo no se maĂąanaâŚyo no se maĂąana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,â you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.Â
Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.
At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Deanâs smile kick up into a smirk.
He walks in on purposefully light feet until heâs sidled up behind you in the living room.
âNice moves, Shakira,â he quips.Â
It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Deanâs smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.Â
Then the rest of it tumbles through his mindâwhat he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How heâd did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when heâd grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.Â
âYou trying to give me a heart attack?â you ask with a hand on your heart.Â
Dean forces himself to smile a little. âSorry. But might I remind you, not everyone hereâs an early bird.â
You give him a wry look.
âYouâre the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Samâs on a run.âÂ
But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesnât yet know this about you, but thisâlistening to music, dancing, cleaningâitâs all your way of copingâŚand releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.Â
You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another. Â
Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.
He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.
âLookâŚIâm sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,â he says. âYouâve just gotta understand something.â
You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever heâs about to say is hard for him.Â
âThereâs a reason I donât do this. The uh, relationship thing,â Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. âItâs not just this job. Itâs my fucked up life. I tried to warn you beforeââÂ
âDean,â you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.Â
âPlease, justâŚlet me say it,â he says. âYou know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.â
You know that. You know you couldâve died yesterday, and he doesnât need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.
âTrust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,â he says. âFor a while I, uhâŚI started to think Sam and I were better off alone.â
That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isnât lying. Heâs really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he wonât have to lose it.Â
Dangerous, for both of us.
You realize then what Deanâs really saying. Heâs afraidâŚafraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain heâs trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.Â
And just like that, the water works start. You canât quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.Â
âYou donât have to cry for that,â he says, a bit teasing.Â
âHave you met me?â you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. âIâm sorry too. God, Iâm so sorry, Dean.âÂ
Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know heâs remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.
âI know I fucked up,â you admit. âI was working with my heart, not my head. I justâŚâ
You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.
âI know,â he says. âI really am sorry, baby.âÂ
The problem is, you didnât just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadnât been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.Â
Itâs justâŚdays like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.Â
More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Deanâs arms. âMe tooâŚâ
He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.Â
Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Deanâs face.Â
âYou canât help yourself, can you?â he teases.
You smile into his chest. âWe should go dancing sometime.â
Dean just laughs. âOooh, no.â
âOh, yes,â you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. Heâs forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.Â
âHave you ever danced before?â you ask. âLike real dancing.âÂ
âNot salsa, Iâll tell you that,â he quips.Â
âThatâs okay. Iâll teach you,â you reply with a coquettish smile. âItâs just a few simple moves.â
Dean gives you a wan look. âYou made it look anything but simple.â
You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You donât let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.
âNo,â he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance. Â
But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.Â
Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.Â
âYouâre too much, you know that?â he mutters.
Itâs then that you know youâve won.
So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.Â
You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. Youâre pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm. Â
Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.Â
âThis is fucking ridiculous,â he grumbles.
âYouâre doing good,â you encourage, with a growing smile. âNow come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, threeâŚâ
Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how heâll move forward, and youâll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.Â
When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. âVery good!â
A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.
But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. Itâs an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it. Â
âOoh, yes,â you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.
âWhatâs this one?â Dean asks.
âVen DevĂłrame Otra Ves,â you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.Â
This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesnât feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. Heâs starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Deanâs also curious about the lyrics youâre singing.Â
âWhat does it mean?â he asks.
You huff in amusement. âYou sure you want to know?â
Dean raises a brow. âWell, now I gotta know.âÂ
You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.Â
âOkay. Itâs about a guy whoâs pretty much a player,â you say with a smirk. âHis bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside outâŚâ
Deanâs lips curve at the familiar image youâre conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.
As the songâs verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.
âEven in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,â you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. âIn my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.â
Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.Â
You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.Â
âVen, devĂłrame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,â you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, âCome punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for youâŚbecause my mouth has the taste of your body.âÂ
You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. âCome devour me again.â
You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.Â
Heâs holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.
âYouâre a littleâŚstiff,â you say, both flirtatious and teasing. âLetâs loosen you up.â
You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.Â
âFeel what Iâm doing there?â you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.
âIf I could do that, we wouldnât be together,â he rumbles.Â
You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.Â
You stop him with your finger on his lips.
âQuestion: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?â you ask him. Youâre half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.Â
âMore of a connoisseur,â he replies, smirking.Â
âAh.â You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. âSo this is like a âsample the menuâ situation.â
Deanâs smirk deepens. âSweetheart, youâre a goddamn buffet.â
You splutter laughingâŚand thatâs when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining whatâs left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.Â
You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.Â
After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.Â
Often heâs one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.
He lets out a deep breath, and you realize heâs probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesnât change whatâs imprinted in both of your minds. Â
A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.Â
âIâm okay,â you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that heâs still thinking far too much.
So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.Â
And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.Â
A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.
He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. Youâve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.
You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.
Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)
You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.Â
âAw, I like this,â Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.Â
âYeah?â you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. Itâs slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.
Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you donât stop there.
Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.Â
âWhatâre you up to, baby?â he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.Â
You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.Â
âIsnât it obvious?â you ask. âIâm gonna devour you.â
Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.Â
Oh, fuck yeah.Â
A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.Â
Deanâs body tenses in anticipation. Youâve gone down on him before, but somehow itâs different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And youâre taking your sweet time working him up.Â
Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.
Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. Heâs holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what youâre in for after you have your way with him, but for now, heâs quite literally under your control.Â
So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.
And suddenly, he blinks them open again.
âShit,â he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth canât take, even teasing his balls.Â
You work him over relentlessly, until he canât help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Deanâs heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.Â
He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movementâfrom wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.Â
You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where youâve been kneeling on the hard ground.Â
Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesnât let up until youâre panting with him.
âFuckinâ hell, sweetheart,â he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.Â
Heâs still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.Â
âWhat, now youâre shy?â he remarks. And he has to laugh. âCome back here.â
He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip. Â
âSay it,â you encourage softly. âWhatever youâre thinking. Right now.â
A smile tugs at his lips. He canât help but oblige you.Â
âYouâre too damn much,â he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.
Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...
âI love you,â he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.
It hasnât been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.
Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.
âOh, yeah?â you ask.Â
Dean hesitates, but he nods. âYeah.â
A smile grows across your face. âEh, Iâm still on the fence.â
At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.
âYo te amo,â you whisper. âTe amo y te quiero, mĂĄs que tĂş puedes creer y entender.â
Dean smiles. He doesnât understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.Â
Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.
You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.Â
âAre you making a mess of my clean bunker?â you tease.Â
His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.Â
âAh, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?â
You canât help but laugh. Heâs such a dork sometimes.
But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.Â
âI fucking love that sound,â Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, âDo that for me again.â
When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears. Â
So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat. Â
However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.Â
Itâs Sam whoâs back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.Â
âDamn it, Dean!â
You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.Â
âAll right, Sammy. Go to your room,â he chides playfully (but he means it). âThe adults are havinâ a moment.â
Sam scoffs. âYouâre having a moment on the goddamn couch!â
âSorry,â you say, though itâs muffled in Deanâs neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.Â
Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.Â
But Deanâs chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.Â
When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, youâre happy.
Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.
I love you, youâd said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.Â
AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the âMidnight Espressoâ-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. â¤ď¸
Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:
(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)
[During their fight]:Â
âQue sin vergĂźenza tĂş eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coĂąo. Entonces tĂş vas a ver quien soy yo.â
Translation:
âYouâre shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then youâre going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).â
[Song lyrics: âYo No Se MaĂąanaâ by Luis Enrique]:Â
âYo no se maĂąanaâŚyo no se maĂąana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.â
Translation:
âI donât know tomorrow. I donât know tomorrow. If weâll be together, if the world will end.â
Keep Reading:
Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):
Summary: You catch Dean red-handedâwith one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.
âśď¸ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)
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Opinions on Charlie woobification? Also, do you think the fandom woobifies Dennis (too much)?
A few people have sent me asks about my thoughts on Dennis being woobified in the fandom and Iâve failed to answer them (sorry). Not for lack of interest on the subject, itâs just hard to answer. I think, though, answering this Charlie question in the same ask might make it easier to explain my thoughts on this.
When we talk about the fandom weâre generally talking about the people here, a couple hundred people on Twitter, maybe some Instagram stans(?) and tend to ignore the million (1,000,000)+ people on the subReddit and the huge chunk of people on Facebook and casual Twitter who are constantly, continually pushing a narrative that these characters have no depth, and thus their characterisation is what we see on the surface and nothing more. I think the one time itâs probably important not to ignore those people as fans of the show is when it comes to woobification.
Because at a surface level, the people who are consuming this show as a comedy and making posts that exhibit their takes/opinions on these characters to the majority of people portray the characters very simply: Charlie is an idiot and the best member of the Gang, in every sense of the word, and Dennis is a mere representation of toxic masculinity to a psychopathic degree. And those opinions are the loud majority.
So any discussion in our minority section of the fandom that woobifies Charlie or Dennis operates within and on top of the general narrative of the public perception (âface valueâ) of the characters. Woobification of Charlie, then, almost always further infantilises the majority of his traits to contribute to the idea that heâs not a bad guy and doesnât deserve the position heâs in in life, while woobification of Dennis mostly works to counteract the idea that heâs a cold-blooded psychopath.
In a way, I think you have to woobify Dennis to a degree in order to properly understand his character (and Glenn makes that clear). Do some people take it too far? When it gets into the realm of genuinely somehow believing heâs not a bad person, absolutely, but in over a decade of Sunnyblr posts, I think Iâve seen that conclusion once, maybe twice. I really donât think any post thatâs diving into how Dennis' actions reflect his insecurities and trauma is ever speaking ignorant of the rest of his character, and that normally seems clear to the majority of people because rarely, if ever, does a dive into Dennis woobification cause fans to understand the character worse than they understood him at face value.
Whereas, with Charlie, you constantly do see this. Posts and threads and fights between fans arguing up and down that Charlie is better than the rest of them: heâs the smartest, actually, he means to do good, he shouldnât be lumped in with the rest of them as sexual predators... People in this fandom genuinely argue that you are a *better person* if youâre a Charlie stan, that Charlie ships are softer, more moral, than toxic Dennis ships. The result of Charlie woobification seems to often make people less media literate about the character (and the show as a whole if weâre being real) than they would be if they just watched at face value.
Theyâre all morally despicable characters.
TL;DR: Due to the face value perceptions of the characters, woobification is an almost necessary tool for better exploring and understanding Dennis under his surface, while it really only exacerbates an annoying surface-level understanding of Charlie
#all that to be said. if youre woobifying for shitposting and fun have at it#slap cat ears on all those men#But ill say it clearly#the deepest truest understandings of Dennis you will see are from people who dip into the woobification of him#the most shallow worst understandings of Charlie you will see are from his woobifiers#dennis reynolds#charlie kelly#ask#if you wanna apply this to Mac and Dee just sub Charlie for Mac and Dennis for Dee to a lesser extent#also sorry idk if my answer was clear but no i dont think the fandom woobifies dennis too much#at least from what i see.. its just enough#but i see how it can be jarring to walk into deep exploration threads on dennis' trauma#with no acknowledgement that hes a terrible man#trust we all know it and are speaking from that#it just doesnt feel necessary to state
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introducing...morose!reader and pinning!matt
divider by: @bernardsbendystraws
In which morose!reader and pining!matt are best friends. Inseparable. They're there for each other..whether it's morning coffee, running an errand, or a night on the couch. There's connection, safety, and desire..they can feel it; they can tase it...
morose: sullen and ill-tempered.
â.Ëmorose!reader can come off as a little bitter, a little detached to strangers who arenât in her inner circle. She finds small talk hard, and she simply does not have the energy to make new friends.Â
â.Ëmorose!reader will disappear for days at a time. She is usually hidden in her room, racking up screen time on her phone or attempting to read the book she restarted four times. Her room is her safe space, filled with trinkets, clothes, and vinyls.Â
â.Ëmorose!reader took "My Year of Rest and Relaxation" too literally.
â.Ëmorose!reader can watch movies for hours a day and constantly log them into letterboxd. She also loves the movie theater and often calls it her church. She allows herself to break down in the worn-down theater chair as her feet stick to the flooring covered in diet soda.
â.Ëmorose!reader is always saying she could do more, be more. She canât feel fulfillment in any career path, any passion projectâŚanything. She will come off confident and unnerving, but as soon as that bedroom door closes, she stares at herself in the mirror until she is unrecognizable.Â
â.Ëmorose!reader is constantly changing her appearance. Cutting her hair, bleaching her eyebrows, small tattoos, and piercings. She is always trying to find herself, and understand why she is the way she is.Â
â.Ëmorose!reader who knows Matt would be good for her but she just...
pining: suffering with or expressing longing or yearning for someone or something.
â.Ëpining!matt, who is captivated by morose. He had been in love with her since the first time he saw her at that weird basement party, where they both decided to leave together and go to McDonaldâs because the vibes were just off. Heâs at her beck and call and is willing to do whatever to make her happy and satisfy her.Â
â.Ëpining!matt is soft and loving. He may come off as a little standoffish, but that is only because he is shy.Â
â.Ëpining!matt, who keeps his journal in his back pocket. He holds a list of all of morose's favorite things. What to order her at restaurants, how she likes her coffee, things that make her happy, and things that make her angry or upset.Â
â.Ëpining!matt is always lost in thought. He is having conversations in his head and lingering on other people's words. He keeps quiet most of the time, absorbing information and taking things in.Â
â.Ëpining!matt hates all of that ânew ageâ shit but owns every Apple product. He refuses to use Apple CarPlay in his car and will only listen to CDs. He hates the internet and tries to keep off social media as much as possible. If he posts anything on social media, it's either morose or his album reviews that get five likes.Â
â.Ëpining!matt who prays one day morose will break, finally let him in completely and let him show her what it feels like to finally let go.
[A/N: this is my first AU! I have been absolutely taken by other writer's AU's and I love how free and creative you can be. I'd love to write for this AU if it is received well!! Please feel free to send in asks about morose!reader and pining!matt]
#đliyah#matt sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#liyah's morose and pining AU#sturniolo triplets au#matt sturniolo au#alternate universe
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Love
SatoSugu x Reader Blurb
TW: Angst. No Comfort
WC: 2k
a/n: Just a thought. Might write a full-fledged fic at some point. Two angsty fics in one weekend? Man, I need to touch grass.
It began subtly, with a sense of stillness, like a candle flickering before it goes out, its warmth not so much extinguished as quietly abandoned.
The words you once shared, rich with meaning, now sounded like echoes in an empty room. Touches that once felt familiar began to feel... unfamiliar. The silence, once comforting, now grew awkward. The spaces between you widened, unnoticed at first, until they stretched so far apart that the distance slipped right through your fingers.Â
A quiet mourning settled inâa grief not loud or dramatic but heavy, like a book once beloved now gathering dust on a shelf. This was what it felt like to fall out of love.
You sat there, resting against the countertop, waiting for the water to boil in the kettle. The soft hum of Suguruâs voice in the shower drifted down the hall, a gentle melody. He always loved to slow dance with you in the kitchen when you first moved in. Humming a tune as he would twirl you around in the kitchen. You used to love moments like that.
Satoru was at the dining table, papers spread out before him, focus etched into his forehead, his brows furrowed, dark-tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. You remembered teasing him for how much he used to hate babysitting; now, he loved his students as if they were his own.Â
You could recall how it felt to love them, but the feeling seemed to belong to someone elseâa distant version of yourself, as if it had existed in another life. You stared off into the distance until Satoruâs teasing voice pulled you back.
âThe waterâs boiling, baby. You too busy thinking about our trip to your parents? Man, Iâm so excited to see MomâI mean, your mom. Well, she is practically our mom, right?â His playful voice faltered when you didnât respond immediately. âRight?â he repeated.
You offered a soft smile, one that didn't reach your eyes before reaching for a mug from the cupboard.Â
They werenât bad partnersâfar from it. They were amazing, loyal, loving, and considerate. You had never felt more cherished. Despite their duties as the worldâs strongest sorcerers, they always made time for you. Satoru brought back gifts from his travels, treats you used to love sharing with him. Suguru noticed the little things, stocking up on your favorite snacks, making you tea after a stressful day, pressing a kiss to your temple with a knowing smile.Â
Your reverie shatteredâquite literallyâwhen the mug slipped from your grasp, splintering on the floor.
âBaby?â Satoruâs voice was sharp with concern as he rushed into the kitchen, finding you sinking to the floor, tears brimming in your eyes. âOh, honey, I know it was part of a set, but we can get a new one. Are you hurt? Let me see your hands, please?â
He knelt before you, eyes wide and filled with worry as he took your trembling hands in his. The warmth of his touch, once so reassuring, now sent a wave of guilt coursing through you, making your tears spill over.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered, the apology spilling out in a broken mutter.
âHey baby⌠honey bunâŚâ Satoru continued, one of his hands drifting to your cheek to pull your face up so your eyes met his. The concern etched into his features clashed with the forced softness in his voice. âItâs just a cup⌠Is the trip stressing you out? You know we love seeing your parents, right? Theyâre like ours, but way better... if you want, we can postpone it. We can set the tickets for a later date.â His voice was so gentle, stripped of the teasing lilt he so often carried.
The sight of him like thisâthe cracks forming in his confident facadeâonly made it worse.
âIâm sorry,â you breathed out in a sob, your body trembling. The words came from somewhere deep, somewhere raw and exposed. âI canâtâŚI canât do this anymore. I want... I want to break up.â
You could almost hear another shatter, louder than the mug. It was the sound of something precious fracturing beyond repair. You met his eyesâthe once bright blue eyes that resembled the ocean on a summerâs day, that once mirrored the clear sky. Now, they seemed dull, storm-clouded, as if the life had been siphoned from them in an instant.
âWhat?â His voice cracked, disbelief painted on his face, twisting into desperation. âHoneybun⌠itâs just a... we can postpone the trip! We can tell Suguru right now⌠heâll be a bit disappointed, but heâll understand⌠We can fix this. We can fix us.â
Satoruâs breathing became shallow, each inhale a ragged attempt to hold onto something slipping away. His fingers tightened slightly around yours, as if trying to anchor himselfâor perhaps, to keep you from drifting further.
The room felt too small, too silent. The only sound was the erratic thumping of your heart and the soft patter of your tears hitting the floor. Between you lay the shattered remains of the mug, glinting under the harsh kitchen light. Was the room always this dim?
You heard the padded footsteps of Suguru entering the kitchen, droplets of water trailing behind him. His honeyed, melodic voice was tinged with concern and confusion.Â
âEverything alright?â he asked, his eyes sweeping over the sceneâSatoru on the floor beside you, his face stricken with panic, and you, a trembling mess cradling the broken pieces of what once was whole.
âWe have to unpack,â Satoru said in between breaths, hurriedly rushing toward the backpack on the dining room chair. âIâll call your mother... everythingâs fine... everythingâs fine.â He gasped between words that came out broken, tears now brimming in his eyes.
Suguru grabbed him by the shoulder, anchoring him. His violet eyes scanned his love, searching for answers.Â
âSatoruâŚâ Suguru began.
You spoke up first. âI want to break up.â The words came out meekly, as if you were speaking through someone elseâs voice, a stranger in your own skin.
The calm and collected Suguruâthe smooth-talking Suguruâwas now silent. He stared at the floor, unable to meet your eyes as the weight of your words settled around him.
âIâm sorry... I just... I donât love you both anymore.â
It was as if those final words made Satoru panic more. His gaze flicked down to the small ring box that had fallen to the floor from his bag. The shiny blue box with a silver ribbon. Â
Every breath you took felt like it took more effort than the last, as though the reality of what you were doing was a slow, painful suffocation you couldnât escape.
You shifted your gaze to look at Satoru, whose eyes were wide, still full of disbelief, and yet there was something darker in them nowâsomething raw. His breath came in shallow bursts, like he couldnât quite catch up with the truth, like he was trying to find something to hold onto before it all slipped away. He wasnât ready for this. And maybe, deep down, you werenât either.
Suguruâs silence was worse than Satoruâs desperate words. Suguru, always the calm one, the steady anchor between you three, stood frozen. His eyes moved from you to Satoru, as if looking for the words, for some kind of lifeline he could throw into the drowning space between you. But there was nothing. The room had already become too heavy, the space between you all too wide.
Satoruâs voice cracked again, desperate, pleading. "We can fix this," he choked out, his hands shaking as they reached for you. "I swear to you, we can fix it⌠I'll do anything. Please don't say that. Please." His knees hit the floor with a muffled thud as he fell to his knees, his hands grasping for yours like a lifeline, but you could feel the way his grip trembled, how the pressure wasnât comforting anymore. It wasnât love, or at least not the kind you recognized anymore.Â
You pulled your hand away slowly, as if his touch burned, as if his touch itself was a reminder of something that was slipping awayâof a love you couldn't hold onto, no matter how tightly you tried. The absence of his warmth seemed to create a coldness inside you that you couldnât ignore, couldnât push away. "I donât... I donât know if I can anymore, Satoru," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, heavy and hoarse.
Satoru stood abruptly, his knees knocking against the floor as he scrambled to his feet, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. But the tears, those damned tears, they refused to stay hidden. They gathered in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. âDonât do this,â he pleaded, his voice breaking on the edges of each word. âIâI donât understand. What do you want from me? Just tell me what I did wrong. Please⌠Iâll change. Iâll be anything you need. Anything. Just donât leave me. Donât leave us.â His voice cracked on the last word, a fissure in the facade he always wore so confidently.
You sat there, frozen, unable to look at him. At them. The love, the passion, the certainty of your connectionâit was all still there, somewhere. But it felt so far away, like it belonged to someone elseâa version of you who wasnât sitting in this kitchen, watching everything slip away. "I just⌠I donât think I can do this anymore. Itâs not fair to you both." You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the clarity in your words even though it felt like they were slipping from your grasp the more you spoke them.
The truth of it crushed you. How could you be the one to pull away when they both needed you? How could you betray the love they had shown you, the life you had built together, just because something inside you was empty? But it was true. The love that had once seemed so full and unbreakable had worn thin, stretched too far to the point where it no longer made sense to keep pretending. The band had finally snapped.
Satoruâs face crumpled, his lips trembling as he shook his head, as though the words youâd spoken didnât quite reach him. âPlease,â he begged, voice small and broken. âYouâre our family. You are family. I donât care whatâs changed... We can fix this. We can work through it. Together. Iâll do anything. Anything, justâdonât leave us. Donât leave me.â
Suguru stepped forward then, his silence heavier than ever before, his gaze unreadable. He moved as though to reach you, but he hesitatedâjust for a moment, as though unsure whether touching you would make it worse. But then his voice, soft and gentle, cut through the tension. âDonât go,â he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours. âPleaseâ Suguru was never one to beg. To plead.Â
You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but it wasnât just for the love that was fading, for the love that you couldnât bring yourself to hold onto. It was for them, for how badly they wanted this, how much they needed you to stay. It felt like an impossible weight pressing on your chest. Your hands trembled at your sides as you tried to steady your breath, but it was as if the room itself was spinning.Â
"I don't know how to fix this," you whispered, more to yourself than to either of them. âIâm sorryâÂ
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk gojo#jjk geto#geto suguru#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto blurb#gojo blurb#satosugu x reader#satosugu angst
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đĄđđĽđŠđ˘đ§đ đđ¨đŽđ˛đ đđđđĽ đŠđŤđđđđ˛
đđ¨đ§đđđąđ: telling touya just how pretty he is
đ°đđŤđ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ: Touyaâs burnt skin đ¤ˇđ˝ââď¸, picking at his staples
đđĄđđŤđđđđđŤ: Touya Todoroki from MHA
đŚ.đĽđ˘đŹđ
âPrettyâ Touya hears the mumble out of the blue, looking up from his phone to see what you were calling pretty, but your eyes were on him. Thinking he heard wrong, he went back to his phone, as if nothing happened.
âSo prettyâ you say once again, inching closer to him on the sofa. Palms resting on his thigh to try and get his attention.
âWhat?â
You only smile at his confused stare, taking the phone out of his hands and laying it on the coffee table. âYou. Youâre so unbelievably gorgeous Touyaâ
He wasnât good with compliments, especially not with ones that made no sense to him and he didnât believe. Him? Pretty? In his head those two didnât go together, and even if the one person he trusted most in the world uttered the words, he still wouldnât believe it. Perhaps it was pity? No, he knew you like the back of his scarred hand, and you never pitied him. You understood him.
âDonât start againâ he leaned over to get his phone, but you had plans of your own. Swinging one leg over his thighs, you seat yourself in his lap and prevent him from going anywhere or reaching for his phone to distract himself. âIâm serious, I donât want to hear itâ he repeated himself, but nothing seemed to stop your train of thought.
âIâm serious too, I mean it. I think youâre beautiful. Your scars, the staples holding your skin together. They hold a story, how youâve gotten this far and what youâve been though. They make you, you. I love the version of you that is sitting in front of me right now, and you wouldnât be that version if it wasnât for your past and these scarsâ
âWow thank you sweetheart, that wasnât cheesy at allâ He rolled his eyes, voice sarcastic and not believing a word. âSay whatever you want, doesnât change the fact I look like thisâ
âOh come on, you know I like the color purpleâ you tease. Wrapping your fingers around his chin and rolling your thumb over his lower lip. âEspecially rusty purple like your skinâ
âShut up, my skin is literally decaying and rotting away, and you find that beautiful?â He scoffs, flicking one of the staples on his arm. âLiteral metal is holding my skin together, skin that isnât alive anymore. I can barely feel you touching me, itâs nothing beautiful. Itâs disgusting and uglyâ
âTouyaââ
âWhen we kiss, do you know why I only let you kiss my upper lip?â He interrupted you, asking a question of his own before you could back up your argument.
Hesitantly, you answer as your eyes travel down do his lips. âYou donât want me to feel the skin on your lower lipâŚâ the words come past your own lips as low as a whisper. Your thumb still rubbing gently at his bottom lip, the texture rough to the touch, just like the rest of his scarred skin. âTouya, I still feel it whenever we kissâŚor whenever you kiss my skin, I feel it. You think I mind?â
Touya stayed quiet, picking at the staples on his arm. He did this whenever he was nervous or uncomfortableâŚor in your case, flustered.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Tsk. What a load of bullâ
âStop that! Last time you pulled out one of your staples I needed to use one of my earrings to fix it! And now itâs missing and you still havenât bought me a new pair!â Your whining pulls him out of his thoughts, a snicker leaving his lips as he stopped pulling at the silver staple on his arm.
Your rambling went on about the missing earring, but he couldnât care less. Nodding his head as he pretended to be interested, Touya couldnât stop admiring your face, your hair, your body, the way you talked so passionately about something so small, your voice, the soft glimmer in your eyes whenever you looked at him. He would never consider himself anything close to beautiful, but if you believed itâŚwho was he to disagree?
đđđĄ đđŚ: â
#dabi#mha dabi#dabi x reader#touya todoroki#touya x reader#mha#mha x reader#my hero academia#dabi x you#dabi fluff#mha touya#touya x y/n#touya fluff
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Please? - Peter Maximoff
Word Count: 3.5k
REQUESTED!
The Ask: I humbly ask for a Peter Maximoff smut, I'm thinking y/n either a: distracts him while he is playing his arcade games, b: using whipped cream to give him a lil sweet treat while fucking, or c: literally any smut of this man, I need him. Preferably him being a little cocky/silly, but when you actually do anything he is a whimpering mess praising you. - @envy-of-greed
I give you... Option A.
WARNINGS: SMUT! oral (m recieve), handjob, mommy kink, praise, reader is a tease, reader is MEAN, sub!peter, dom!reader, Peter becomes a MESS, reader calls him "pup" and "puppy" like once, aftercare, alluding to punishment
A/N: gonna work on a Spencer Reid fluff/comedic fic next
_____
Peter was annoying as hell.
She loved him to bits, she would do absolutely anything for him, but she was allowed to admit her boyfriend was a complete terror?
Y/N was peacefully sitting in her room when her telephone had rang. Placing down her magazine, she reached for it, bringing it to her ear, âHello?â
âBabeeee,â
What a surprise this was. Peter Maximoff, who usually would just show up unannounced with his super speed, decided to give her a phone call?
âPeter? Whatâs the occasion?â she asked with a smile, leaning back against her pillows, twirling the telephoneâs wire in her newly manicured fingers.Â
âEh, I just remember you saying you like phone calls, the bonding or whatever. So i wanted to give you one.â
That made her heart melt. This little terror was sometimes a complete angel as well. âYeahâŚâ Y/N replied, âI love phone calls. Your voice sounds so nice on the phone, by the way,â
She could already picture him blushing. âI-It does? I mean, of course, yeah it does! Iâm Peter freaking Maximoff, babe. Everything about me is top-tier,â
âYou could work on your baking skills,â she mused, remembering literally every single time she would attempt to bake something with him. Flour everywhere. Remnants of cake or brownie batter on his face because he just had to eat some (a lot). Firealarm going off. Burnt baked goods. Every. Single. Time.
âBitch! Every baking failure is your fault for always distracting me!â he whined in protest.
âHow the hell do I distract you? Iâm baking too!âÂ
â âCause youâre pretty,â Peter replied cheekily, and she knew he would have wiggled his eyebrows if she could see him, âHow am I supposed to focus?â
âStop making excuses for your terrible baking skills. Even if I wasnât there, you would be a mess,â
âFor different reasons,â Peter scoffed, âI canât bake by myself, I need your guidance,â
âBut you canât bake with me either because you allegedly get distracted. Sounds like you just canât bake,â
âFuck off,â he grumbled, making her laugh, âLetâs get to more important business: when can I pick you up?â
âI wasnât aware of being picked up at all,â
âYeah well Iâm picking you up. I wanna spend some time with you!â she could hear his excited tone that was so uniquely Peter. Everything about him was unique. Everything about him was different and weird and strange and she loved every part of him.Â
âWellâŚâ Y/N sighed, âI was going to start on some homeworkâŚâ
âBoooo! College student booooo!â
âShit, excuse me for wanting an education. Better than planning on living in my momâs basement for the rest of my life,â she teased.
âOuch. Fine. Canât you do your homework later?â
âIâve been procrastinating on it,â Y/N set down her magazine, getting off of the bed and walking to her desk, stretching her body as far as she could with the limits of the phone cord. Fingertips brushing against her notebook, she was able to grab it, nestling back into her bed and opening it, âShit, itâs a lot.â
âWho cares? Finish it tomorrow!â
âItâs due in the morning.â
She could already tell he was pouting, she knew him so well. âCanât you do it at my place?â
âYou mean your momâs place?â Y/N decided to keep teasing him. Peter was pretty much a loser, not really having any plans in life other than to lounge in his momâs basement playing video games and eating twinkies for eternity. He thought he was a loser, Y/Nâs parents thought he was a loser (which is why they donât like him much), even Y/N thought he was a loser when they had first met.Â
Yet here she was, smiling like an idiot while babbling on the telephone with said loser. Said loser who always gives her (stolen) gifts. Said loser who comes over at random points in the day just to say he loves her (superspeed is pretty handy). Said loser who named his Dungeons and Dragons character after her (however, he was such a loser, he didnât have many people to play it with). Said loser who would scoff and pout whenever she would tease him about being her future house husband (well, what else would he be, if he just plays video games and dotes on her all day?) Her favorite loser.Â
âYes,â Peter deadpanned, âMy momâs place. Now may I come over so I can escort you to my momâs place?â
She pretended to think about it, hearing his soft breathing on the other line as he waited for her to answer, âFine. No distractions though!âÂ
âYes, maâam,â
Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, jumping when she heard a harsh knock on her window. Whipping her head towards the source of the noise, she rolled her eyes with a laugh. Peter, waving at her with his usual happy dorky expression. Placing the phone back down onto its receiver, Y/N rushed towards the window, opening it. âBabe!â
âMissed me?â he asked with a smirk, zipping into her room and right past her, making her roll her eyes again. He picked up her notebook, examining the pages, âEw ew ew. What the hell are you studying again?â
âPsychology,â Y/N sat on the bed, slipping her sneakers on and tying them.Â
âBoring,â he sped off in a blur to her desk, grabbing a pencil, and rushing back to her notebook.Â
She didnât even notice, focused on her sneakers, but when she raised her head and saw him drawing on her notebook, her facial expression soured, âPietro Maximoff!â she snatched the notebook back, flicking his forehead.Â
âHey!â he gasped dramatically, âAinât no way you used my real name.â
âYou misbehave to the point I have to like a mom,â Y/n replied dryly, going off to her closet to grab her bag. Brows furrowing, she dug around a bit, âShit⌠Dunno where my bag went-â
âAhem,â
Y/N didnât even have to turn to know what that meant. But she did, and, not to her surprise, Peter was holding her bag with a smirk on his face.Â
âAsshole,â she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew him well. If she attempted to grab the bag, he would just zoom off somewhere else to tease her.Â
âArenât you going to get it?â he asked with faux innocence, holding it out to her.Â
âFuck that, I know what youâre planning,â Y/N shook her head, raising her brow at him expectantly, âDrop the bag,â
âUm, am I a dog?â He placed a hand to his chest, jaw dropping like the drama king he was. He should have been in theatre when he was in school.Â
âDo I have to treat you like one?â Y/N threatened boldly, âCome on, pup, drop the bag,â
Peterâs eyes widened and he dropped the bag, âYou did not just say that,âÂ
âWell, it worked,â Y/N smirked, grabbing her bag and planting a kiss on his cheek, âGood boy,â She began throwing her supplies for her homework into her bag, unaware of the growing dent in his pants.Â
âBitch,â he mumbled to himself, too quiet for her to hear.Â
âAlright, Iâm ready to go,â she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He just stood there, eyes glazed over. âEarth to Peter?â she snapped her fingers in his face twice before he blinked, coming back down to society.Â
âOkayletsgetoutofhere,â he word vomited, grabbing her waist (with one hand on her neck, of course! Gotta prevent that whiplash!), and within seconds, they were in his room (the basement).Â
âShit, am I ever gonna get used to that?â Y/N laughed, flopping onto his unmade bed in dizziness. Before she could react, Peter dived in on top of her, making her let out a pained, âOof!â and a âPeter!â
A childish giggle left him, arms going around her waist as he nuzzled into her neck, âHm?â
âCanât breathe,â
âAre you calling me fat?â
âI apologize, my dainty little princess,â she deadpanned, arms going around him too. Yes, he was crushing her, but she honestly didnât care, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She then felt something on her thigh. Felt like something was poking-
Oh.
Oh.
She smirked, but didnât say anything about what she just realized, casually stroking his hair, âMy pretty puppy,â
He gasped, immediately dashing off. Poor thing was flustered, playing one of his (stolen) arcade games, back turned to her.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Y/N immediately got to teasing him, âI thought we were cuddling?â
âWanna game,â he replied simply, and his ears went red. Cutie pie.Â
âYou wanna game? But I thought you wanted to spend time with me?â she laughed.
âYou said you wanted to do your homework,âÂ
âTrue trueâŚâ she opened up her notebook, glancing at his squirming figure, âYou dancinâ, love?â
âNo, Iâm not dancing,â was all he said. There were plenty of times he didnât catch onto her teasing, which was always adorable. This seemed to be one of them.
âThen why are you moving like that?âÂ
âLike what?â Now he was playing dumb. He groaned as he died in the game, restarting it.
She slid off of the bed, walking to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she said, âYouâre acting funny, darling,â she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, feeling him tense under her touch.
âN-No, Iâm not,â
âOh, really?â One hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before planting a kiss there, âYouâve been acting funny ever since I called you a good boy,â His breath hitched, making her smirk, âI didnât know calling you that would have such an effect on you, baby. Maybe itâs because youâre so bratty, you donât hear that often, huh?â
âStoooop,â he whined, losing in his game again, âYou made me lose,â Peter pouted.Â
âHm,â she let her hands drop lower, fiddling with the button of his pants absentmindedly, âYou must be slacking, Peter! You should be able to game under any condition, right?â
âBut-â
âNuhuh,â she pressed a finger to his plush lips, âNo âbutâs from you. We gotta practice your concentration skills, my love. Theyâre lacking,â she unbuttoned his jeans, making him gasp. His hands were gripping the gameâs controls tightly, however they were unmoving as she palmed him through his boxers. âHey,â she roughly squeezed his length, making him squeak cutely. âDid I say you could stop? Câmon, time to practice.âÂ
âS-Sorry, Y/N,â he stuttered out, hitting restart again. She squeezed his cock through his boxers again, earning a whine from him.Â
âNow what do you call me when I play with you?â Y/N asked tauntingly, running a single finger over his clothed length. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-
âMommy,â he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning.Â
âThatâs right, darling, Iâm Mommy,â She stepped away, confusing him, until she got down on the floor, crawling right between him and the game. âMommyâs going to take care of your pretty cock now, okay?â Her hands trailed towards the belt loops of his jeans as she spoke, âYou are not allowed to stop playing your game. Each in-game death is two spanks. Youâre not allowed to cum till you clear three levels, understood?â
Peterâs cheeks flared up and he nodded excitedly, âYes, Mommy,âÂ
âGood boy,â she purred, pulling down his pants and letting them pool at his ankles. Fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers, she cooed, already noticing a small wet patch, âSo excited, huh?â she pulled down his boxers, letting them join his pants on the floor. Y/N stuck out her index finger, letting it run along his cock like before. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-
â-Mommy,â Peter whined, âStop teasing me, please,â
âOh? The bratty boy is using his manners?â she cooed, wrapping her fingers around his thick length and slooooowly stroking him, âRemember the rules and everything will feel amazing, yeah?â
He nodded, sucking in a breath, âY-Yeah,â Peter tried to focus on his game, he really did, trying his best to get his character past the villainous NPCs. But as soon as Y/N began to stroke faster, he whimpered, his character being slain.Â
âOh?â Y/N smirked, pausing her movements and making him whine more, âAlready lost? Thatâs two spanks, darling,â
âSorry, MommyâŚâ He mumbled in embarrassment, restarting the game, âI won't do it again- fuck,â She started stroking him again, the delicious feeling going straight to his pretty little head. Any sort of sexual intimacy would immediately make his brain short-circuit, causing him to be complete putty in her hands.
âI know you wonât do it again, Peter, because youâre a good boy, right?â Y/Nâs lips curled into a little smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his tip, continuing to stroke him. âYouâre my good boy?â
âMhm,â he nodded, bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted his game again, his avatar jumping through obstacles and avoiding approaching enemies, âIâm y-your good boy- ughhh,â she wrapped her pretty lips around his tip, teasingly sucking on it. He bit his bottom lip again, hard enough to draw blood.Â
Peter couldnât help it, he took a glance down at Y/N, mouth going dry seeing her sucking on his tip, stroking him in a steady rhythm with her own eyes looking dead at his. His eyes widened seeing her take him deeper into her mouth, eyes not leaving his for even a second.
Game over.
He looked up at the screen of his game, realizing his character died again. Fuck.Â
Y/N pulled her mouth off of his dick with a pop, making him whimper, âTwo more spanks, darling. Thatâs four now.â
This was going to suck. This was going to suck in the best way possible.Â
âDidnât you say you were going to be a good boy?â Y/N asked, pouting exageratively, âI remember you saying you were going to be a good boy,â
âI am your good boy!â Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.Â
Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his thigh, âYouâre so cute, baby. Now, câmon, start the game again. Youâll never get to cum at this rate.â
Poor thing panics, starting the game up again. He began spamming the buttons desperately, wanting to clear those three levels so Y/N would allow him to cum. Overstimulation was hot as hell, but edging was terrible (which is why that was her usual punishment for him). Â
Her lips were on him again, sucking hard, and poor guy was seeing fucking stars trying to focus on this damn fucking game. He was a good gamer, these levels should be easy to clear, but when Mommy is sucking his cock how is he able to focus on such a thing? He would rather abandon the game and fuck her like a bitch in heat, which is certainly what he felt like at that moment.Â
It was torture. Spamming buttons desperately, not beating the level, the threat of edging and spanking in the air. He was going crazy.
âThats ten spanks now, baby,â Y/N said after another failed level, âI thought you were good at games,â
âI-I am!â He exclaimed, âIt's hard to fucking focus when you're sucking the soul out of me!â A pout formed on his pretty lips, brows furrowed as he attempted to play the level again.Â
âWatch your tone, Peter,â Y/N glared at him, making him feel emotional. Whenever he was in a vulnerable place like this, it's embarrassingly easy for him to burst into tears. Especially because during any form of intimacy he was baby or darling or something cute, never Peter. Why would she call him by his name? Was he being bad?
âSorry, Mama,â he mumbled.
Y/N couldn't help but smile softly, being reminded once again how much she adored him. Her pretty boy. Her favorite loser. Being called her titles by him always made her weak at the knees. âI know, baby,â she was a soft domme at heart, she can't be mad at him. Ever. He was her baby and he deserved the whole world. âLet's try this again, okay?â
She waited for him to nod before taking him into her mouth again. His pretty tip was red and hot in her mouth, dribbling pre-cum on her tongue as she swirled the muscle along.Â
He finally beat the first level, moving on to the next excitedly. He was getting somewhere now! Soon he'll be allowed to cum and maybe Y/N will let him insideâŚ
Yes, he really wanted to be inside her.Â
Y/N began taking him deeper into her mouth, and fuck he felt his tip nudge the back of her throat so perfectly he wanted to cum. So bad. But he won't because he's a good boy and he's not going to cum until he's allowed to.Â
That was the plan, at least.
But his name was Quicksilver for a reason and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His left hand was gripping the joystick painfully hard, knuckles white as he moved it around in an attempt to get his character across the map to the next level.Â
He finally made it to the third level, sighing in relief. He was getting somewhere. Almost to the end. She was bobbing her head up and down, one hand gently rubbing his tender balls, bringing him closer and closer to release.Â
âAhIâmsoclosethatfeelssogoodthankyouthankyouIâmsocloseâ he babbled out, speaking practically a mile a minute. A wide grin appeared on his face once he cleared the third level, âIdiditcanIcomenowpleasecanIcumnow-â
She pulled off of his dick again, making him groan in both desperation and annoyance, âYou cleared the level? Good job, sweetie. I guess I can let you cum nowâŚâ They both stared at each other, Peter panting and his chest rising with each labored breath, Y/N batting her eyelashes at him meanly, continuing to tease him. He was ready to just start fucking her face and go wild, but he told himself he was going to behave.
So heâs going to behave.Â
Ugh, but why does she have to make it so hard?Â
âCan you keep going?â he finally asked.
âShould I, though?â
âYou⌠You promised!â he gasped, eyes widening in panic.
âHmmm, I donât remember promising anything,â she replied, trailing her finger along his shaft like she always did when she wanted to fucking tease him. Up and down up and down up and down-
âPlease?â Was she really going to make him beg? She knew he hated begging, which is probably why she enjoyed making him do that so much.Â
All she did was hum, continuing with that aggravating motion of her finger, fucking asshole.Â
âPlease, Mommy?â he grumbled, hands balling into fists at his sides to keep him from going crazy. Think with your head and not your dick, Peter.
Y/N gave him another mean smirk, âThatâs my boyâŚâ she went straight back to sucking him off, and he was back to being a fucking mess.Â
âThatfeelssogoodyoualwaysdosogoodfuckIâmgoingtocumcanIcumpleasepleaseplease-â
She nodded, not stopping her sucking motion for even a second. However, his eyes were screwed shut so he didnât even notice, continuing to beg to cum till she released his dick from her mouth and said, âYou can cum, baby,â with a little laugh before going right back to work.Â
And within two seconds of being back inside her mouth, he was cumming hard, hands going to her hair for something to keep him grounded. When she pulled away from his cock once again, she swallowed without a second thought, rubbing his thigh soothingly, âYou still there, baby?â
âMhm,â Peter was a known chatterbox, everybody knew this. But every time after cumming, his desire to speak would vanish, the need to just be held and taken care of overpowering all else.Â
So Y/N stood up, taking his hand, âLetâs lay down, yeah?â She knew Peter could not last long, however, he could bounce back extremely fast. Just some cuddles will do, and heâll be back to either a) yapping her ear off, or b) being hard as a rock. Or both. Who knows?Â
She laid down on his (unmade) bed, pulling him down beside her, âYou need anything, baby?â He simply shrugged, arms going around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder, âWater?â He shook his head. âSnack?â Fast nod. Of course. âAlright,â she went to sit up, but he immediately tightened his grip on her. âDidnât you want a snack?â she laughed.
He thought for a moment before hesitantly releasing her from his hold, allowing her to get up and go to his practical tower of Hostess treats, grabbing a box of Twinkies. His favorite. Sitting back down, she opened up the box, unwrapping a cakey treat while he leaned against her again.Â
âHere you go,â she said softly, letting Peter pluck the dessert from her hand and eat it. It was silent as he ate, her hand going to his hair to gently stroke the silver strands.Â
âThank you,â he mumbled after he finished, looking up at her with a cute smile, âYou always know just what I need,â he nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. âLove you,â
âLove you too, baby,â she kissed his head, sighing peacefully, âSo⌠about that punishmentâŚâ
#evan peters#peter maximoff#xmen#xmen movies#quicksilver#peter maximoff x reader#sub peter#sub peter maximoff#sub quicksilver#quicksilver x rader#peter maximoff smut#smut#quicksilver smut#tate langdon x reader#kit walker x reader#kyle spencer x reader#jimmy darling x reader#james patrick march x reader#kai anderson x reader#subby boys#subby men#mommy k!nk
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marauders do the candy trauma salad trend since I JUST saw a fantastic one for pjo (highly encourage y'all to add your versions/to this pls I don't have solid hcs of everyone) (evan's is fully me projecting btw)(a lot of them are me projecting <3).
Upon completion I want to add up here n not just the tags that these do reference various traumas/bigotry so be careful and mind what headspace ur in n all that pls take care of urselves k thanks love u.
Sirius: Hi I'm sirius and every time my mother considered something I did 'impure', like experience joy or get sorted in to gryffindor, she took my mouth away! *momentary zone out from the horrors* I brought milk duds!
Barty: bazooka bubblegum. *vid cuts* I'm barty and I hate my dad for all of the reasons you can imagine and I think it would be fun if he blew up. good?
Lily: Hi I'm Lily and after I got sent to magic school, all emotional ties with my muggle sister, who regards me as a freak, and my mother, who was more sensitive to her side, were severed. They didn't tell me when my dad died. I brought 3 musketeers.
Remus: Hi I'm remus and I got bit by a werewolf when I was 5, then my dad offed himself because of it. I brought moon pies.
James: Hi I'm James and I fell into limerence with someone and incessantly pursued them for over a year in ways that were detrimental to both of our mental states. I was so public about it I don't even need to say who it was. My mother sat me down one day and said "was it something your father and I did, something we said, that convinced you you need to beg someone to love you? to let you show them love?" and that broke something in me. We're chill now though, and I have coping techniques that work for me while still allowing me to be my expressive self, so I brought mr. goodbars.
Peter: Hi I'm peter and my animagus is literally a rat. I brought sour patch kids.
Dorcas: Hi I'm dorcas and my pureblood parents will never say it to my face but they wanted me to be a boy. To compensate I was sure to always get top marks, be well liked, and experience gender dysphoria. I burnt out before our 5th year, and learning radical acceptance in the place of trying to guess unspoken rules saved my life. I brought smarties.
Regulus: Hi I'm regulus and in order to be sure my mother didn't assassinate my brother for running away, I stayed behind in the abusive household and eventually became a deatheater to keep my cover, hunting down one bald headed bitch's horcruxes until it literally almost killed me. I think it did kill me in some lives. and I brought the starburst.
Mary: Hi I'm Mary and due to blood supremacist bigots, I have to go to school with people who want me to die just for having the audacity to exist. The muggle world is also like this. The school I go to does not matter in this scenario. I brought mentos for the salad and a bottle of soda for the show.
Evan: Hi I'm evan and my ex went on holiday to another country for 3 months, told me we could write to stay connected, they didn't, broke up with me via owl while still on said vacation, and then came to talk to me in person about that, denied that it was an active choice to disconnect from me, then tried to put the onus of any friendship to follow on just me. We haven't spoken since. Also I'm a sex positive, but also trauma affected ace, it was an open relationship, and they somehow still managed to be shady/inconsiderate about hooking up with someone on the vacation. I brought blow pops.
Pandora: Hi I'm pandora and sometimes I get prophetic dreams so vivid I can't tell when I wake up. Sometimes, though the future is not stagnant, I see my friends die :) I brought airheads.
Marlene: Hi I'm marlene and I have 5 brothers. 3 of them accept my nonbinary identity. The rest, and my parents, blatantly ignore that I use they/them pronouns. Then they told me if I don't have children as an adult I won't be worth visiting because it's my job as a pureblood to produce an heir. So I went to St. Mungos and got sterilized. I brought baby ruth candy.
Hope you enjoy! and thanks if you read them all! This was fun for me.
#yes I did look up a master doc of candy for this#tw: mental health#tw: parental abuse#tw trauma#marauders#dead gay witches#dead gay wizards#marauders fandom#sirius black#regulus black#james potter#remus lupin#barty crouch junior#evan rosier#pandora lovegood#mary macdonald#peter pettigrew#lily evans#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#candy salad trend
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Foxes Walk Out Songs
Ive seen this done a couple times and wanted to do it myself!! Slight modern au cuz Iâm too lazy to find period accurate songs.
Dan Wilds
The Greatest by Sia
I think sheâd choose this one to sort of hype herself up, and hype her team.
The pre chorus repeat of âI wonât give upâ is just so Dan to me and I think sheâd agree.
Matt Boyd
My guy Matt is definitely charging into the court to the raucous melody of
Turn Down For What by DJ Snake and Lil Jon
My guy is picking the hypest song he can think of and heâs gonna get that crowd GOING
Renee Walker
Sunday Best by Surfaces
Idk I think Renee would want something upbeat and happy
This song is so Renee coded like âfeeling blessed, never stressedâ is definitely a sticker sheâd have on her water bottle
Allison Reynolds
Allison is 100% picking a hot girl bop and a half
And that song is On My Mama by Victoria Monet
I think sheâd pick this song obviously for the hot girl vibes but also as another fuck you to her parents. âThey say she get it from her mama, imma say you fucking rightâ
Nicky Hemmick
Now Nicky is picking an iconic gay anthem to strut out to in the most flamboyant way he can
And that song is Iâm Coming Out by Diana Ross
I think heâd find the literal interpretation funny, but also heâs definitely the type to shout from the rooftops that heâs gay and this is a way to do that
Aaron 100% rolled his eyes when nicky picked this one
Aaron Minyard
Okay hereâs how this went (I read a fic where something similar happened Iâm just changing the circumstances lol)
I think Aaron would just avoid choosing something for lack of caring
And I think Nicky would decide to choose for him
But when Nicky suggests Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson, he almost immediately shuts the idea down
But then he sees a little quirk of andrews eyebrow betraying a hint of amusement
And he chooses Man in the Mirror
One could laugh at it, but one could also get depressed by looking too closely at âIâm asking him to change his waysâ
But Iâm choosing to laugh
Neil Josten
This one was hard, I went through a couple options before landing on what I think would be funniest while being something he might actually pick
I donât think Neil would know what to pick so I think Andrew would just show him a bunch of songs until he picked one
And I think he would eventually land on Centuries by Fall Out Boy
For one thing Andrew def listens to the emo trinity
For another I think the song has Neilâs fuck you im going to win energy that he brings to the court
One could look more closely at Neil âIâm finally a real personâ Josten picking a song saying âyou will remember meâ
I love it
Andrew Minyard
This was actually the hardest
Because I donât think Andrew would actually care enough to participate
But I can also see him using it as an opportunity to be a little shit
So I think heâd look wymack directly in the eye and choose Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne
Just to watch him sigh and put a hand to his forehead in exasperation
And I think the rest of the team would find it funny
Anyways, lmk what you think or if Iâm like way off the mark here.
#foxes#aftg#headcanons#music#Andrew Minyard#Aaron Minyard#Neil Josten#Matt Boyd#Allison reynolds#Renee walker#Dan wilds#Nicky hemmick#be nice to me this is my first post like this
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