#i know this was rambling but I HAVE FEELS OKAY

[send4venus]

do u think you could write something about reader faking an orgasm and then abby finding out n she is maaddd 🙈

it’s okay if not tho !❤️

I can absolutely try !! I hope what I wrote is somewhat close to what you were envisioning but either way, I hope you enjoy <33

Warnings - basically the ask, essentially porn with no plot therefore it's not written with any specific AU in mind so feel free to interpret it into whatever one you want, smut (MDNI), tribbing, unintentional edging, faking a orgasm, lowkey kinda awkward at the beginning, overstim, oral & fingering r!receiving, praise, abbys just a sweetheart who wants to take care of you

this is also definitely longer than it should’ve been but oh well

"fffuck baby you feel so good”

Abbys on top of you grunting and whining as she grinds her wet pussy across your’s and you’re also whining underneath her with furrowed brows however, unlike Abby, you can’t seem to reach that peak you so desperately want and need.

No matter what you try to do in an attempt to gain more friction whether it be grinding up into abby or trying to follow her movements, you only receive light grazes when abbys clit drags against yours which keeps you pent up and frustrated. And it definitely doesn’t help that your focus is off as your mind is crowded with the stress of midterms. All you want to do is have sex and cum with your girlfriend, but by the looks of it, that just wont be happening, and you’re too nervous to tell her.

Finally, Abby lets out a long drawn out string of curses and quick breaths as she leans down to lay on top of you as she orgasms and you feel her cum dripping onto your cunt and the feeling makes you let out a whine.

Abbys still grinding against you kisses along your neck and you can hear her whimpers and see her legs shake from overstimulation but you know she isnt gonna stop until you finish, so mentally you apologize to her for what you’re about to do and let out a series of faux high pitched whimpers moans and curses and grind up into her, hoping that she wont focus on it enough and just mistake her own juices as yours and that your moans are convincing enough.

But Abby knows you. She knows exactly what you sound like when you finish, she knows how your clit twitches and hole squeezes around nothing, your sloppy attempts at getting a few last bits of friction in, and she knows that whatever it was that you just did, definitely wasn’t real.

Abby quickly sits up and positions herself over you with her arms on either side of your head and you’re trying your best to avoid her confrontational gaze.

“baby?”

You respond with a quick ‘hm?’ before finally looking at her, trying to make yourself appear as innocent as possible.

“did you just.. fake an orgasm?”

“what?! n-no of course not why would you-“

“don’t you dare fucking lie to me”

You swallow thickly. You knew she could see right through you and her assertiveness always made your facades crumble. So after a few seconds of silence and her pointed eyes staring right into yours you finally break

“okay i did im sorry! im just too distracted and i didn’t wanna ruin it for you and because i know how overstimulated you get and you wouldn’t stop until i came and-”

You rambled on and on explaining it to her and then she started… laughing? You stopped talking,suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed and exposed.

“baby its okay, i just wish you would’ve told me, i just gotta make it up to you now”

Your brows furrowed at the last part of her sentence

“make it up to me how?”

“ fuck right there! “

Abby’s tongue plunged in and out of your cunt, occasionally stopping and reaching up to circle or suck on your clit, she had already made you cum beforehand letting you grind up and down on her thigh, allowing you to get the friction you were so desperately craving, leaving you fucked out yet still begging for more.

Your moans and curses bounced off the walls as the noises abby made while eating you out as if you were her favorite food, and if Abby was honest, you might as well be.

“abs shit don’t stop m’ gonna cum im so close please don’t stop”

Abby hummed in acknowledgment and sped up her pace, earning an extremely loud whine from you and you ground onto her face in an attempt to bring you to your peak sooner.

Within seemingly seconds you’re thighs were squeezing around abbys head so tight she almost couldn’t breathe as your orgasm crashed into you, although she wasn’t complaining. Your hand instinctively tugged on her messy braid, causing her to groan into your core, and the other you slapped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans and curses.

She slowed her movements and your thighs and hands loosened up. Eventually she stopped and you started to catch your breath, assuming she was done but it hitched when you felt her fingers curling up into you.

“i know baby just one more ‘kay? you can handle that right sweet girl?”

You nodded your head responding with a mumbled ‘can handle it abs’ which made her smile. She sat above you now, her eyes focused on watching how your cunt squeezed around her fingers as she pushed the remnants of your previous orgasm back in.

You felt that same bubbling feeling in your core embarrassingly quickly. You tried to tell abby through broken whines and curses, wrapping your hand around her wrist even, but couldn’t seem to get the words out as your brain was beginning to short circuit and your body began to twitch due to the overstimulation.

“shh i know baby go ahead i got you”

Not too long afterwards your legs shook and abby felt you squeeze around her fingers so tightly she could barely move. She leaned down and kissed you gently as you succumbed to your orgasm. the kiss was sweet and sensual, a stark contrast to the shocks being sent through you as she rubbed your clit.

Eventually every little thing became too much to handle and you brought your hand up to her chest to gently push her off. Abby sat up and removed her fingers, smiling as she admired her work, licking you off her fingers and leaning down to give you a quick peck on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself, before smiling against them

“told you i’d make it up to you”

[zarameraki]

🖊️💌 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗻-𝗽𝗮𝗹 🖊️💌

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 prisoner sukuna x his penpal 𖥔 just plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 pussayy eating rawr but also u suck his dick so 𖥔 uraume and toji found family 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw

: ̗̀➛ words: 10k?? idfk it's long

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy halloween, mamas! 🎃 i know ive been MIA for a while but thats because i wasnt feeling creative. but now ive dumped a 10k sukuna fic on you for you to read at 3 in the morning. this one's got a kick to it yall. its long but give the bitch a chance, shes good. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

So, this was where you’d ended up—on a site for writing to prisoners. A pen-pal with an inmate.

How lonely did you have to be to fill out your info, pay a yearly fee, and do this? The answer: really, really lonely. Orphaned, friendless, and scarred from a relationship that had left you with broken ribs and a blind eye. And as if to top it all off, you wanted to reach out to a criminal. I guess you deserved at least that small bit of connection.

You scrolled through inmate profiles, noting their crimes—arson, theft, cybercrime, drug trafficking, money embezzlement, and so on. None of them were charged with homicides or serious offences.

One profile did catch your eye. The smirk in his mugshot suggested he’d probably killed someone and managed to evade the cops before they could pin anything on him.

“Sukuna Ryomen,” you whispered, clicking on his profile and staring at a laundry list of crimes. “Aggravated assault, drug manufacturing and distribution, kidnapping—Jesus—extortion, cybercrime, Satanism . . . what the hell?” You chuckled as you scrolled further. “Bank burglary, vandalism of religious properties—so that’s the Satanism part—illegal possession of firearms, stalking?”

Why was this man even on this website, given his long list of crimes?

You zoomed in on his mugshot. Was it wrong to find him attractive despite his record? He truly embodied the term “bad boy,” though he didn’t look like a boy at all. He was ruggedly handsome with hollowed eyes. His light-mink hair was swept back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore a single hoop earring in his left ear. Black tattoos marked his nose bridge, jaw, and the centre of his forehead, while narrow-eyed designs were inked on his cheekbones.

You wondered if he’d get any letters, given his long rap sheet. Maybe delusional women like you, who’s pussies sang for high-profile criminals, sure. 

Licking your lower lip, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen, tapping the end against the sheet as you continued to study his face.

Then you started writing.

Hello, Sukuna Ryomen, 

My name is Y/N. 

You thought it over. For now, you'd keep it light before diving into your deeper issues. It felt easier to share your thoughts with someone you’d never meet face-to-face than with a stranger in a bar whose only interest was getting into your pants.

You kept writing.

Dear Sukuna Ryomen,

I’m currently living in an apartment complex that’s in desperate need of renovation. I’m harvesting cockroaches—no, I’m not eating them; the fuckers just won’t stop nesting in my kitchen cabinets, and I’m tired of spending money on pest sprays. On top of that, I’m pretty broke, barely managing to keep a roof over my head. I’ve even considered trying to seduce the landlord into reducing my rent, though I doubt any man would find a woman with one working eye appealing. I noticed you have an extra beneath your real eyes. Care to share?

Anyway, this is my first time writing to someone like you, so apologies if it’s a bit awkward. I wish I could send a nude, but I’m pretty sure you’d wish you were blind after that. I feel like I’m rambling like this is my diary, so I should probably wrap it up. If you want to write back, feel free. I don’t mean to sound privileged, but I’m lonely as fuck.

Thank you (?),  

Y/N

P.S. About the Satanism—care to explain?

You didn’t bother proof-reading and folded the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a lick. From your drawer, you pulled out a pack of old stickers—remnants of your childhood—and placed one where the envelope met. You wrote the prison address provided on the website and added the stamps you’d bought during your walk, which was your final push into becoming a prison pen-pal. After selecting Sukuna Ryomen on the site and uploading your ID and other required documents, you waited for your profile to be approved. 

After three days of waiting, you sent out the letter first thing in the morning and anxiously awaited a response.

Sukuna’s fists collided with the inmate’s face, each strike more brutal than the last. Blood splattered across his knuckles as the crowd of orange-clad convicts roared with twisted delight, their voices a chorus of vile encouragement. “Finish him!” they taunted, while others jeered at the barely conscious man, urging him to get up and fight back, to aim a desperate kick at Sukuna’s balls.

“Sukuna!” A guard’s voice cut through the chaos, and soon the officers were pushing through the throng, shutting the prisoners who dared resist their authority. “Get up, now!”

“Fuck off!” Sukuna snarled, his lips curling into a sneer as he shoved the guard aside. He watched with cold satisfaction as the man lay still, blood pooling beneath him. All this because the idiot had the nerve to laugh when Sukuna missed a three-pointer. Now, the bald bastard had paid the price for his arrogance, and Sukuna breathed in the aftermath—his own dark victory painted in blood and broken bones.

Officer Gojo Satoru strode into the circle, handcuffs gleaming in his hand. 

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue-eyed bastard, a wave of hatred surging through him so fierce he could almost feel his fingers tightening around Satoru's throat. The very thought of choking the life out of him fueled his dark desires.

Satoru’s father—the man responsible for dragging Sukuna down, catching him red-handed with crates of cocaine at the border, and sealing his fate with a fifty-year sentence. If Sukuna had known the old man’s spawn would end up as a deputy officer here, watching his every move with those piercing eyes, he would have never shown up to that cursed delivery. But no—he had wanted to play the good boss, personally seeing his precious cargo off. Now, every day behind bars was a constant reminder of that one fatal mistake, and Sukuna’s rage festered as he thought of the traitor, Yuji. The little fuck who sold him out would pay dearly, and Sukuna was already plotting the perfect revenge.

His own fucking nephew sold him off. Motherfucker wanted the throne for himself—an empire Sukuna built with his bare hands. 

“Throw him in the ice box,” Satoru commanded, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. The officer roughly cuffed Sukuna’s wrists, shoving him forward. “Cool down, Big Guy. You’re not going any—”

Before he could finish, Sukuna rammed his forehead into Gojo’s nose, relishing the satisfying crunch as the lanky bastard staggered back. The inmates roared with approval from where they were restrained by the other officers. 

Gojo chuckled, dabbing at his bleeding nose with a pristine handkerchief, the kind only a spoiled little bitch like him would carry. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

“Hilarious,” Sukuna whispered, a dark grin curling at his lips.

“Okay,” Gojo replied with a casual shrug. Without warning, his fist slammed into Sukuna’s jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Three fucking times.

The officers stood by, indifferent, as their captain unleashed his fury. For them, it was just another case of self-defence.

Sukuna finally collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming. Gojo leaned over him, his voice a venomous hiss. “Who’s laughing now?” A final, vicious kick to Sukuna’s chest left him gasping for breath. “Keep him in that freezer until he’s begging to be let out. No meals for a week.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred as he glared at Satoru’s retreating figure, the ringing in his ears barely drowning out the disappointed murmurs of his fellow inmates. His body, battered and beaten, finally surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

When he came to, he found himself in the prison’s infirmary, cocooned in three heated blankets. Yet the warmth did little to pierce the deep, bone-chilling cold that gripped him. The need to piss gnawed at him, but even that seemed distant compared to the icy numbness that had taken hold. 

“Welcome back to hell.” 

Sukuna raised his head from the pillows to find Uraume, the prison’s doctor. They were also the only person he tolerated, and somewhat close to since he ended up in the infirmary more than once. He hoped they considered him a ‘something’ after he killed a two-hundred pound guy for groping their ass in the cafeteria. How did he do it? He knew Uraume kept a pocket knife in their doctor’s coat and quickly swept it out and stuck it in the dick’s jugular. 

“How long have I been out for?” he asked, squirming his arm out of the blanket to rub his eyes. 

“A day.” 

“What?” Sukuna pulled himself out of the blanket by wiggling around like the fucking worms his cell mate Toji liked to collect every time they went in the courtyard to play. They’re better company than your grouchy ass, he said once. “How long was I in the ice box?” 

“Barely an hour.” Well, that’s just pussy behaviour from him. “They pulled you out before hypothermia killed you. What a way to die, am I right?” They chuckled, preparing some pills in a small disposable cup. “Here, take these. They’re nutrients.” 

“I could use actual food.” Sukuna downed them like a shot. God, he missed alcohol. “That blue-eyed bitch restricted my meals for a week.” 

“Fuck him.” Uraume took out a sandwich from their bag and threw it in Sukuna’s direction. “Just fake illness when you’re hungry. I’m always here to feed my favourite dog.” 

Sukuna snorted. “Go to hell.” 

“Already here.” Uraume clipped back their white hair with the black dyed red. Like someone smashed their head into the wall and the colour just bled to the sides. “Oh, this came for you.”  

Sukuna shoved the sandwich in his mouth and stretched his muscles before walking over, snatching the letter. It was already opened, a flimsy teddy-bear sticker hanging from the paper. “What the fuck is this?” 

“A letter.” 

“A letter? For me?” 

Uraume broke their attention from the computer to look at him. “Remember when you had me register you on that prison pen-pal bullshit after Toji received a pile of fan letters?”

Sukuna blinked. 

He definitely remembered being jealous when Toji got a letter from an artist who drew herself naked on paper for him, and a shit ton more asking for his dick size or when he’ll be out. Of course, Sukuna was envious of the attention. Plus, no one in prison made good company. He just wanted the taste of the outside world again after being locked in for five years now. Even if it was through ink on paper. 

But then Sukuna looked down at his first ever letter torn open. “Why is this open? Who read it?” If it was Satoru, he was going to rip his eyeballs from his sockets and feed it to Toji’s pet worm. 

“Relax. They’ve got to identify if there’s any substances attached to the paper, or any other shady shit. Whoever wrote to you is just a harmless nobody.” 

Sukuna frowned, bringing the letter up to his nose. It smelled like a plain envelope. No drugs, nothing.

He found purchase on the bed again, pulling out the folded paper and ironing the creases out on his leg. Here we go.

He began reading each word carefully. 

A week went by since you’d mailed your letter to Sukuna Ryomen. A week of pure torture to hear something back from the criminal. You’d relaxed on Sunday because the post offices are closed, but on Monday, you were at your mailbox, watching the mailman sort out letters and slip them through the boxes. 

Once he left, you dashed to your box and flipped through the coupons, flyers, newsletters—

Your breath hitched. 

Everything dropped from your hand except the cream envelope with an address from the prison. You didn’t care about reading it upstairs and quickly, yet carefully, tore it open from the side, reading the writing. 

Trying to read it. 

Sukuna had terrible handwriting. It made you giggle. 

You leaned against the mailboxes and murmured the words written under your breath. 

Hey, Y/N

I don’t know how to start a letter since I’ve never written one so don’t mind if I hurt your little feelings. Don’t know if you’re aiming to entertain me or bore me to death with this “dear diary” bullshit. I thought I’d get a nude, at the very least. Hell, Toji over here—yeah, the bastard who was on the news last year with a thing for setting houses on fire—gets way better fan mail every week. Pictures, drawings, mostly nudes. And I get your whining about rent and cockroaches?

Look, I may be locked up, but I’m giving you some advice here. Don’t fuck your landlord. You’ve got one eye? Good—use it. Hell, that’s already intimidating enough. Threaten the prick to call pest control, or better yet, trap those damn cockroaches and give him a taste. Stuff a few down his throat if he still doesn’t take you seriously. People respect action, not whining.

Speaking of. One eye? Really? Now, how’d it happen? Was it torn out? Still got some sight in it, or is it just gone? That’s gangster. Hot, even. I’d fuck a one-eyed chick. Maybe when I’m out we can cross that off my bucket list. Nah, I’m just playing with you.

Or maybe I’m not.

Think on it.

Hate (in a friendly way),

Sukuna.

P.S. Yeah, I took out some satanist scum who tried kidnapping one of my people’s kids. But don’t go thinking I’m in with those freaks. I’m just the Devil they wish they could be.

“Woah,” you breathed out, hugging the letter to your chest. This was it. This was what you were waiting for. A pull towards something real, something thrilling. It’s all you’ve been craving for eons now. 

“Whatcha got there, sweetie?” The voice snapped you back, harsh as nails against glass. Your landlord had wandered out of his door on the first floor, wrapped in a faded bathrobe and gripping his mug like some king holding court. “Made a mess on my floor with your papers.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly tucking Sukuna’s letter back into its envelope and reaching down to gather the stray papers scattered on the floor. When you straightened, he was already in your space, close enough that the coffee on his breath made you flinch.

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused.” His smirk widened as he leaned in, his nose grazing your neck. The greasy warmth of his breath made bile rise to the back of your throat. “Just wanna take a little bite out of you.”

Sukuna’s advice echoed in your mind. You’d never—never—think of following through with his revolting insinuation. But letting this sleaze get away with treating you like this? No. Not anymore.

“Step away,” you commanded, your voice low but unyielding. “Now.”

He blinked, then chuckled, dismissive. “Feisty today, huh? Got a letter from your boyfriend in prison, sweetie?” How did he know that? Fuck. Did he go through your mail before it was deposited? “Let me guess—you think he’s got your back now?” He leaned even closer, the stench of his laugh wafting in the air. “Come on, where's that one eye of yours aiming, sweetheart?”

“Next person who mentions my eye eats the dirt,” you snapped, every ounce of your resolve boiling up. “And as for what I’ve got—it’s something way out of your league, old geezer. So get the hell back to your apartment, and call pest control now.” 

For a second, he was stunned, face going pale as your words sank in. But you could feel Sukuna’s thrill, his twisted approval in the back of your mind. You’d tapped into something that wouldn’t settle. But then, “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone put on their big girl panties.” 

Your jaw tightened as you held your ground, taking steady breaths. You’d rehearsed this moment in your head, picturing a confrontation that ended with him backing down. But things never went as planned with him.

“I’m not here to beg,” you said evenly. “But I’m not gonna let you walk all over me, either. I pay rent. It’s your responsibility to keep this place livable.”

He snorted, raising his coffee mug and giving you a once-over that made your skin crawl. 

“Not for free, sweetheart. You’ve gotta give me something worth my time.” His eyes travelled down your body. 

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, but you squared your shoulders. “I’m already paying rent. It’s your right to ensure your tenant's safety.”

His face darkened, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Not when that tenant’s acting like a spoiled little bitch.” And then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the mug’s contents right at you.

You dodged, but a few hot droplets scorched your arm, leaving a raw sting that only fueled your anger. He laughed, shaking his head with a mocking scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I kick you out on the streets.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned on your heel, heading back upstairs with quick steps, forcing the tears back until you could lock the door behind you. Once inside, you slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The letter from Sukuna crackled beneath your hands, and you clutched it close to your chest, feeling the heat of humiliation turn into something fiercer, darker. 

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself, pushing back to your feet with renewed energy. You marched to your desk, grabbed your notebook and pen, and let the words pour out, hurried and jagged. If anyone would understand this kind of anger, it was him—the one man whose entire life was carved from rage.

And this time, you wouldn’t hold anything back.

“Letter for you, Ryomen.”

Sukuna dropped down from his top bunk, snatching the letter right out of the guard’s hand.

“From your girl?” Toji asked from across the table, flipping a card, halfway to beating Sukuna in Blackjack.

“Not my girl,” Sukuna grunted, tearing into the envelope. But still, he smirked as he unfolded your letter.

Hey, Sukuna. 

Fuck my landlord to hell and back. I need you to know I’d kill him if I could get away with it. I’m trying to keep this “ethical” so they don’t cut off my letters, but let’s just, I hate the elderly. They should be rotting in retirement houses instead of owning properties and doing a shit job running them. That senile asshole threw hot coffee at me this morning. Burning. I nearly shattered the damn mug over his skull.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing the letter hard enough to crumple the edges.

And now he’s saying he’ll kick me out, as if I have anything to pay him with. This place is a dump, anyway. I might hit up one of those shelters for women, maybe hop from couch to couch for a bit. My job at corner store’s giving me scraps; it’s not nearly enough to get by. So yeah, you could say I’m screwed.

And to answer your question about my eye—yeah, I’m blind in it. Got it from a real piece of work I used to call a boyfriend. He decided my face was fair game, and thought I could just live with it. But he's dead now. Overdosed last I heard from his brother. Good riddance, am I right?

Oh, and for that kink of yours you mentioned—sending my picture along with a little extra treat. 

Hate (because I’m about to go crazy here), Y/N

P.S. For all the things you’ve done, I can’t lie—the world you talk about sounds safer than this one. Well, except for you committing the most heinous crimes. 

Toji clicked his tongue. “Look at that dumbass grin on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered, flipping the letter over—and there it was: a stick drawing of a woman lying on a bed, two messy circles for her chest, legs spread wide, and what looked like . . . well, he didn’t need to guess. Sukuna went from grinning to outright laughing. “She’s hilarious.”

“Not just that. She’s sexy as fuck,” Toji said, holding up a photo, ripped clean in half.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed. He swiped the photo and pieced it back together, cursing himself for tearing through the envelope like a brute. But as the two halves reconnected, he felt his pulse kick up, hard.

“Well, shit.” You were more than just beautiful. The way your hair fell, the curves of your body wrapped in that short black dress, standing under a streetlamp with the city lights glinting around you . . . But it was the smile—the easy, teasing grin—that really did it for him. “I’m definitely jerking off tonight.” Respectfully, of course.

“Can we get back to the game now, or—”

“Fuck the game. I’ve got a letter to write.” And a plan brewing to get you out of that dump and right where he wanted you.

Your landlord was pronounced dead. 

An ambulance had arrived early in the morning, around nine, waking up every tenant. You were one of them, groggy from your sleep, and all the crying you’d done from realising how high rent was these days.

Apparently, he had a heart-attack, said one of the residents. 

He was eighty, said another. 

You stuck to the back of the crowd as his body was wheeled out on the stretcher. How could he have died just five days after you sent your last letter to Sukuna? It couldn’t have been him, could it? Maybe one of his associates? Given the man’s extensive criminal history, you suspected he had some serious connections.

As the crowd began to disperse a few minutes later, you joined them but didn’t head upstairs. Instead, you made your way to the mailroom.

And luckily, Sukuna’s letter was present. 

All he wrote was: 

You’re welcome. 

Neutral, 

Sukuna. 

You broke out laughing, or crying. Whatever it was, it felt good. So good. 

Hey, Sukuna!

These days, I’m feeling calm. Really calm. I’m sleeping well, eating better, even starting to enjoy work. Sometimes, I’m scared it’ll all get snatched away. By who? I don’t know. Life’s been that way, though. I’ve lost so much—my parents, my friends, even my left eyesight. At one point, I lost my will to keep going. But I guess some part of me held on, believing a better day would come.

Turns out, those days are here. Who would’ve thought a felon could make me feel less alone? I know it sounds crazy, but my life’s been full of surprises lately.

If you think you can’t bring happiness to someone, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I’m genuinely happy, and it’s thanks to you. I already think of you as a friend—and I hope you think of me the same way. You don’t get a choice in that, by the way.

Love (genuinely), Y/N

P.S. I’d like to come visit you sometime soon.

Sukuna lowered the letter, his eyes settling on the wall where he’d pinned up your picture. “Toji?” he called out, still staring at the photo.

Toji paused mid-pushup, raising an eyebrow. “What, bitch?”

Sukuna let out a low laugh, barely shaking his head as he spoke. “I think I’m in love.”

Hello, Y/N.

When I’m out in fifty years, I’ll give you a real surprise. And don’t write me any more of that sentimental crap, alright? Save it for when you visit. I’d rather hear it in person.

Hate (but maybe not so much), Sukuna

P.S. You’re beautiful.

You pressed the letter to your chest, biting your lip as warmth spread across your cheeks, your face aching from how much you were smiling. It was official—you were falling for Sukuna Ryomen. You’d have to look your absolute best for your visit. Just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, maybe even feeling his hand brush yours, made your heart race. You’d kiss him if they’d let you. And if they didn’t? What could the guards do? Throw you in jail? Now that would be ironic.

But fifty years . . . Would you really wait fifty years for Sukuna to be released? How high was his bail, anyway, that even his hidden cash stash wasn’t enough to cover it? He had to have some kind of pull with the right people, didn’t he?

With a sigh, you grabbed a piece of paper and began to write your reply.

Sukuna,

Fifty years is a lifetime, don’t you think?

Love, Y/N

Sukuna read the short note you’d sent, surprised by how much you’d poured into just a few lines. He noticed small, faded dots on the paper—tears, unmistakably yours. You’d been crying, and it didn’t sit right with him. His stomach tightened, but thankfully, he’d already secured your visit through Uraume, who handled it while Gojo was away.

Now, all that was left was seeing you.

He wondered how he’d keep his hands to himself after all the nights he’d spent memorising your picture, losing himself in thoughts of you. Every night before sleep, every morning when he woke, every time Toji was out cold and couldn’t hear Sukuna’s barely-stifled groans as he imagined you were there. God, he wanted to steal you away. 

The day of your visit finally came. Sukuna was led to the visitor room, wrists cuffed, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t set foot in this room since a couple of his associates had visited months back with updates on the family business and Yuji’s latest fiascos. They’d kept everything running despite his brother’s mess-ups, and Sukuna owed them.

He glanced down at his hands. Fifty years. He’d been scheming for a way out since he first set foot in here, but now, with you in the picture, the urge to escape was relentless. Bail was twenty million. Even if he could scrounge it up, he doubted he could get it done without tipping off the wrong people. No, his only real option was breaking out.

“Sukuna.”

A soft voice pulled his head up slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time his name was spoken with such warmth. 

“Y/N.”

He shot up from his seat, his eyes flicking to the guards stationed in the corner before letting himself drink you in. You looked stunning—a soft sundress, hair delicately curled, makeup enhancing every curve and angle of your face. His gaze lingered on your eyes, marvelling at the contrast: one foggy, hazy, while the other was bright and striking. A smirk pulled at his mouth, but he softened it for you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, the one word holding more emotion than he’d ever admit, especially with witnesses around.

“Hi,” you whispered back, eyes lowering down his muscled body, the pattern tattoos like rings around his wrist and with the first three buttons of his jumpsuit unbuttoned, you found the top of the rings on his pecs as well. His light-pink hair was brushed down, the tendrils poking his reddish-brown eyes. A peculiar colour. “Hi.”

He smiled. “You already said that, baby.” 

Baby. Gosh, you were even more nervous now. 

“They said I can’t shake your hand.” You looked at the cuffs on his wrists and tossed a glare at the guards. “Or hands.” 

“Fuck them.” Sukuna sat down and you followed. “You’re stunning.” 

You blushed. “Thank you.” 

“Not gonna compliment me back?” His deep voice was cocky, smug. You loved it. 

“You’re handsome and you know it.” 

“I sure do.” 

You chuckled and Sukuna watched you with a soft expression. “Thanks for . . . you know.” 

He understood the words you mouthed and smiled. “A little Ricin never hurt anyone.”

“How did you pull it off?”

His eyebrow arched in surprise. “Just because I’m stuck in this hellhole doesn’t mean I’ve lost everyone’s respect out there. Blood is thicker than water in my clan—except when it comes to my nephew. I just want to drain it out of him.”

Your own smile faltered. “Well . . . I’d like to have coffee with you. But fifty years, Sukuna, is too long.” 

He sighed. “I know.” 

“Isn’t there any way to get you out?” 

Sukuna saw the longing on your face and wanted nothing more than to hold it in his hands and stare at you for hours. He just couldn’t believe you were real. He would’ve killed you if you were cat-fishing him. “I really want to touch you,” he whispered instead. He did. He really fucking did. 

You pinched your lips in a smile. “Me, too.” 

Sukuna placed his hands on the table and grabbed both of yours. They were so soft and small. He wanted to kiss each finger. Knuckle. Vein.

“Hands off, Ryomen,” the guard warned. He didn’t relent, and simply winked at you. “I said hands off.” 

“Fuck you,” Sukuna spat back. 

“Visit’s over.” The pair of guards pried Sukuna away, making you reach out for him with a protest. 

“I’ll see you this weekend.” Sukuna winked and let the guards drag him away. 

You sat stunned before the officers escorted you out of the visiting room and apologised on his behalf. 

When the weekend finally rolled around, you found yourself standing at the prison gates once more, entering alongside a pair of guards.

Waiting by the visitor room was a towering figure with straight silver hair and striking blue-eyes. You got a closer look at the badge—Satoru Gojo. You’ve read the name in one of Sukuna’s letters complaining about him.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, waving away the guards and pressing a hand on your back, leading you down the opposite direction. 

“We can chat another time, officer. I’ve got to meet Suku—”

“He can wait. Prison teaches a man patience. He’s got fifty more years left. Plenty to visit then.” Gojo opened the door and guided you inside. The shutting made your shoulders flinch. The lock clicking had dread pooling in your stomach. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?” 

You eyed the dark setting bathed in a golden light from a corner lamp. There was a cart with a decanter set and a mini-fridge to the right. A bookshelf and a wardrobe on the left. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

Gojo shrugged and poured himself whiskey before taking his seat behind his table. You sat opposite him. “So, what’s your relationship with my favourite prisoner?” 

You blinked. “Uh, we’re just pen-pals.” 

“Lying to a police officer is a serious offence.” 

“I’m telling the truth,” you said. “We’re strictly pen-pals.” 

“I’ve read your letters to know that isn’t true, Princess. So unless you want to sit there and lie to my fucking face, I suggest you start using that mouth for good and tell me the goddamn truth.” He slammed his glass down, but his face remained smiling with false politeness. 

You felt suffocated in the office, eyes darting left and right for anything sharp in case he tried some other method to get you to talk. 

“I’ve been in this field for a decade now to know when someone is hiding something from me,” Gojo continued, taking a leisure sip from his drink. “I have a file on you, Y/N. You’re an only child, with no proper education or a stable job. You’re one bad decision away from being trafficked. You’re submissive, a follower, who if went missing, no one would look for.” Tears welled your eyes at his words. “And I know that bastard’s the reason you’re still living in that dump you call home.” 

That was the last nail in the coffin. 

“I’ve been following you since your first letter,” he said quietly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be any more wrong.” He stood up and rounded his way to you. 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat. “Please. I don’t know anything. I—I don’t—Sukuna’s a friend, yes, but I’m not involved in any of his criminal activities.” 

“Friend?” Gojo spat out. “That man is the last person you’d ever want as your friend.” He stalked forward and you retracted. “He’s committed more crimes in his lifetime than any other man. He’s killed half the people in this country, extorted money from politicians, burned down houses for fun, and killed my father!” He grabbed the collars of your dress and slammed you back into his wardrobe door. A cry ripped from your throat. “And you, a nobody, has the audacity to call that fucker a friend? Sweetheart, you’re just a ploy, a pawn, a time-pass for him. A hole to warm his cock in.” A sardonic chuckle. “That’ll never happen since he isn’t getting out anytime soon. But, hey, maybe I can prepare you for him.” 

Your breath quickened, a whimper slipping past your lips. “How does that make you any better than him?” 

Gojo smiled and brushed his lips over your ears. “Because I have the power to get away with it.” 

Your eyes, frightened and flickering, dragged up to his blue-ones. 

In the blink of an eye, you slapped him across the face, taking him by complete surprise and broke free from his hands. He leaped towards you as you unlocked the door and ran out and down the hall, shouting for help. 

A pair of officers turned the corner. 

“Help, please!” You fell into the arms of one of them. “Please, he’s going to hurt me!” 

“Who?” one asked with concern. 

“Satoru Gojo!” 

They exchanged a look and briskly turned away, leaving you standing. Their spines straightened as Gojo walked down the hallway, flattening a hand down his chest. The duo saluted him and walked away with their heads down. 

Your heart sank. 

You had no power here. 

“I told you, Princess,” Gojo purred, prowling towards you, “this is my domain.” 

You cried out and ran towards the visitor’s room. The door knob was locked and could only be opened with a keycard. “Help!” You slammed your palms on the surface. “Please, someone! Help—ah!” 

Gojo gripped the back of your hair and pulled you from the door. “Perfect timing, actually. I’d like to see the look on Ryomen’s face before I split his woman on my cock.” He swiped the card and opened the door, pushing you inside but controlling you with the grip he had on your head. 

Sukuna was already standing and enraged, held back by two guards who struggled. He must’ve heard your helpless cries. You wish he didn’t have to. “Let her go, Gojo!” 

“Oh, I will,” said Gojo, “as soon as I’m done with her.” 

Sukuna growled, thrashing against his restraints. “You fucking prick, I’m gonna tear you in half you if you touch her!” 

“Like this?” Gojo squeezed your left breast and laughed. 

Sukuna elbowed one of the guards in his nose, momentarily seeking freedom to hit the other. Hope blossomed in your chest as he fought them off and made his way towards you. 

Gojo chuckled and pulled out his gun, shooting Sukuna in the leg. You jumped with a scream as he fell to the floor, clutching his thigh. “All this chaos for a common whore,” he muttered. “Come on, Princess. Let’s put you to good use.” 

“No, please!” You shouted as he dragged you away. “Sukuna, no! Sukuna!” 

“Y/N.” Sukuna reached his arm out, his hand curling into a fist and falling defeatedly onto the floor. “Don’t hurt her, please.” His face was squeezed in pain, as the guards kept him pinned to the floor. “Please! Don’t fucking hurt her—” 

The door closed shut, and the last sight before your eyes was Sukuna crying. 

Sukuna hadn’t heard from you in over a month. 

He’d also spend the month in the infirmary after Uraume did an extensive surgery on his leg. It hadn’t hit a vital artery. He believed Satoru’s aim was calculated to keep him alive. To continue letting him suffer. 

Sukuna also went quiet. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone except murmuring to himself. He read back on your letters, slept with the papers under his pillow, if he slept at all. 

Every morning, afternoon, night, in and out of his dry sleep, he was plotting a way to get out of this hell and find you. Would you even want to see him? Would you even care? Were you even alive? He’d dragged you into his mess, put you in danger, and fell into Satoru’s disgusting trap. 

“You need to eat something, Sukuna,” Uraume advised as they have been since his injury. They placed the tray in front of him. “At least eat the yogurt.” 

Were you eating? Were you still living in his house? Were you alive? That question rang in his head again. 

“For fucks sake.” Uraume brought forth a stool and sat next to his bed, staring at the side of his face. “What the hell do you want to do?” 

He wanted to kill Satoru first. Then escape with Toji since he was the only bastard he trusted in this place. Then find you and run away from the law as far as possible. It was a simple plan that required efficiency. 

“Are you gonna talk—” 

Sukuna shoved the tray aside, the food falling onto the floor. He was irritated by the questions outside and inside of his head. “I need to find her,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to know if she’s alive.” Please, baby, please be alive. 

“Everything all right in here, doc?” One of the guards stationed outside the door asked with his head peering through the door. 

Sukuna stared at him, then went back to Uraume. They met his eyes with their blank stare. They scanned down his body, to his injured leg, then back to his head. 

A sigh left them. “No,” they replied. “Do you mind helping me clean up the mess?” 

Sukuna gritted his jaw as the guard walked in, closing the door and crouching down, grumbling curses at Sukuna. Uraume stood from their stool and made their way to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. 

Sukuna's eyes lightened, spine straightening. A smile curved at his lip as they flicked the droplets from the tip of the injection and walked over, making small-talk about the weather. 

Suddenly, Uraume jabbed the needle into the officer’s neck and pushed down the plunger. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and staring up at them as they shrugged. Sukuna watched with pure delight as his body began to convulse, foam gathering at this mouth and dripping from the side. 

Then he stopped. 

“He’s dead,” Uraume said before Sukuna could ask. “Works the night shift so you won’t have a problem running into anyone else. Change into his clothes. I’ll drive.” They walked away to grab a face mask. 

“Why?” asked Sukuna. 

Uraume sighed, head dropping. “Because I fucking hate it here.” 

Sukuna was definitely going to hire them once he killed his Gojo, and his nephew. 

He quickly changed into the officer’s clothes, giving him a hard kick in the stomach that had Uraume rolling their eyes. 

Sukuna followed behind as they led the way. “Let’s take Toji.”

“Why?” they asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“Just feel bad.” 

“And when did you start feeling guilt?” Uraume easily slipped past the security gate, waving to the officer who was busy on his phone. 

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling because he knew. Sure, you’d only touched him once, but your letters were what truly began to change him. Just the other day, he’d lost a round of blackjack, stacking his debt to Toji by a million, and instead of knocking the guy out cold, Sukuna shook hands and called it a ‘good game.’ “On second thought, let’s leave him here for the time being.” Until he got his money in check. 

Once they settled into Uraume’s car, Sukuna quickly discarded the officer's cap, tie, and badges. Uraume entered your address from the letters, and they drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

When they arrived, the building matched your description: shitty.

Uraume stopped Sukuna before he could leap out of the car. They scanned the street for any signs of police presence. “Go. I’ll wait here.” 

Sukuna nodded and dashed out of the car, walking inside the apartment. There was no buzzer system, which meant anyone could stroll in, armed and dangerous. This was a problem. He needed to get you out of here and into one of his safe houses—a hidden place even his bastard nephew didn’t know about.

He hurried up the emergency stairwell to the tenth floor, slightly winded by the time he reached door 1090.

This was it.

With his hands gripping the edges of the door, he hunched forward, heart racing. Please, be alive.

Finally, he knocked.

He chewed the shit out of his bottom lip, hissing impatiently through his teeth. “Come on, Y/N.” He knocked again, his impatience boiling over. “It’s me, Sukuna! Please, open the door.” He pounded harder, fear creeping in with each passing second. The Sukuna Ryomen was . . . scared. “Goddammit!”

“Sukuna . . .?” 

He halted mid-breakdown and turned slowly, his heart dropping at the sight of you standing there with two bags of groceries. You looked so fragile, your complexion pale, and the radiance he remembered from your visit had completely vanished.

The grocery bags slipped from your hands and fell to the ground.

In an instant, you both rushed toward each other, and he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his hand in the back of your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your body wash.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His eyes were directed straight ahead, and he was shaking. Terribly. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands. Gently, you brushed aside his dark, mink-like hair, tracing the tattoos on his skin with your fingertips. “You’re alive,” you whispered, overwhelmed by relief. You couldn’t help but touch him, and he simply smiled, allowing you the closeness. “God, you’re alive. Sukuna—you’re really alive. How?”

“Of course, I am. I just needed to know you were alive,” he replied, his hands enveloping your cheeks. “Where did you go? Why did you stop writing to me?”

Your face went blank. “What do you mean?”  

“Your letters. You stopped writing to me.” 

“They . . .” Your voice cracked. “They told me you were sentenced to death.” 

He was taken back. “What the fuck?”  

Realisation dawned upon you. The second time you visited Sukuna, Satoru had literally dragged you out of the station, kicking you out the doors. He’d threatened to take you to his office next time, but since he had a meeting with officials that day, he’d reluctantly let you go. That didn’t stop you from sending countless letters, pouring your heart out until, two weeks later, you finally received a notification from the police station. Sukuna had been sentenced to death by lethal injection and was no longer alive. You’d cried for days on end. You imagined he had been cremated and reduced to ashes, stored away somewhere. The thought shattered you. For an entire month, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your house.

Until tonight. 

And he was here. Sukuna was here. He was alive. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing the area below your sightless eye. “Let’s head inside, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist. He held your hand tightly while using his other arm to carry your grocery bags. Once you reached your apartment, you opened the door and locked it securely. The deadbolt you had installed was a precaution against Satoru, just in case he showed up.

“I’m so happy you’re al—” 

Sukuna kissed you before the words could leave your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning from the taste of his lips, the taste you’d been craving for months now. He didn’t allow you to breathe, didn’t pull away. You both stood there in the alcove, kissing for minutes, clinging to each other. He cupped the back of your head and drew apart from your lips, peppering kisses over your face, especially your foggy eye. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to make love to you. For hours.” Your grip tightened in his shirt. “Then I need you to pack everything in a bag and run away with me.” 

“Run away?” You searched his dark-reddish eyes. “Run away where?”

His knuckles grazed your wet cheek. “Somewhere not even God can find us.”

You swallowed hard. “They’ll send out a manhunt, Sukuna. What if we get caught? What if they take you—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “No one is going to take me away from you. Do you get that?” His strong fingers moved through your hair. “I’d turn this world to dust before that happens.”

Your insides melted from the threat. “Take me,” you murmured over his lips. He kissed you. “Take me everywhere, anywhere, wherever, as long as it’s with you.” 

Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like a bride as he kicked open your bedroom door. He set you down on the bed, then began stripping off his clothes, revealing the geometric tattoos that marked his thighs and torso. You were caught off guard by how quickly he moved, fumbling to take off your sweater and jeans. By the time you looked back at him, he was already naked, and your gaze dropped to what you could only describe as a gloriously, long erection. 

“Woah,” you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. “You’re abnormally big.” 

“You can take it.” He leaned over you, tearing your panties without a second thought. Before you could protest about them being your favorite pair, he spread your legs and went down on you. “Oh, my god—Sukuna—wait—”

“Waited too long,” he growled, his mouth finding your clit as he buried his nose between your wet folds. He nipped, licked, and bit, his tongue plunging deep into you, creating messy sounds that filled the air. You couldn't form words or catch your breath, gripping the roots of his hair tightly.

When you came like a flood, Sukuna lifted your hips, making sure not a single drop of you was lost to the sheets. He let out loud, deep moans as he sloppily lapped at your sensitive cunt.

He wiped his glistening mouth with his fingers and then pressed them against your lips. You eagerly sucked on his warm, thick digits, noting the lustrous glint in his eyes. He pulled his fingers out abruptly. “Suck my cock.” 

Suck his what? 

You looked down and saw him leaking at the tip. You clenched your legs, unsure. He wanted you to take that into your mouth?

You licked your lips, managing to kneel while he stood before you. He took hold of himself, rubbing the tip against your lips. You instinctively flicked your tongue out to taste him, causing him to flinch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to enjoy it. “Just take it in your mouth.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around his hot, veiny length. You opened your jaw as wide as you could and slowly took him in. His head fell back, and he engulfed your face with his palms. Your performance was mediocre, and yet he was entertained.

His tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you pull back to cough. He laughed softly, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Come on, baby. You need to get used to it.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you replied, your voice shaky as you reached for him again.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You took a deep breath and extended your tongue. He rested the head of his cock on it and started to move his hips slowly.

Slowly, you took him in, feeling his satisfaction as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He tasted warm and a little salty, and you found your hand wandering between your legs, seeking some relief.

“I’m going to pick up the pace, alright, baby?”

You nodded in response.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you choke,” he said, hooking a stray lock behind your ear. “It’ll just me come faster.”

With that, he thrust deeper, and you gripped his hips tightly, struggling to catch your breath. He noticed and pulled back slightly to give you a moment, but it was brief before he pushed back in again. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” His movements became more feverish, and you felt the pressure building as you choked and gagged, saliva escaping at the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat.” 

You tapped his leg, shaking your head.

“No?” He smirked. “You don’t want me to come down your throat?”

You shook your head again and pointed between your legs.

In an instant, Sukuna pulled out. He flipped you onto your chest, lifting your ass up in the air. Without a second thought, he thrust himself deep inside you, and you cried out his name into the pillow.

He felt so full, so thick, pushing into you with a force that made your breath hitch. It was everything you needed—so good, so fucking good. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. He filled you completely, driving into you with a fast rhythm that left you moaning, completely lost in the pleasure.

Your nails clawed at the sheets as his thick tip pressed against your womb, punctuated by the stinging slaps of his hands against your ass. He showered you with a blend of sweet and dirty words—“good fucking girl,” “cock slut,” “so perfect and tight,” “little whore”—and you pushed back, needing him deeper and deeper.

Sukuna released a torrent of warm cum inside you, still driving his hips against you, holding you securely by the waist. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through you, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back. He bent your knees, driving himself back inside without hesitation. How was he still so hard?

Your hands cupped his flushed, beautiful face, a lazy smile stretching across both your lips. Sukuna leaned in, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down to your neck while his hand found its way to your breast. “I’m not on birth control anymore, you know?”

“Good.” He pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t even think about getting back on it.”

“But we can’t afford the risk, Suku—”

“I love you,” he said, his grip firm on your jaw. Everything inside you exploded. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much that I’ll take every fucking risk.”

You moaned softly as he came again, your trembling fingers brushing against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed your fingertips, a promise in every touch. “I’ll take every risk with you.”

“Fuck yeah you will.” He didn’t pull out, his eyes locked on yours. “Starting with putting a baby in you.”

You happily accepted your fate.

Sukuna pulled the trigger, shooting another police officer in the back of his head. The sound of the gunfire mixed with the blaring sirens, echoing through the flickering lights of the corridors—a devious melody composed just for him. He chuckled low, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a grin as another officer lunged out, attempting to stop him—pathetic. A single shot rang out, and the man crumpled like paper.

The path to Satoru’s office was a long one, and the bodies he left sprawled out in his wake were only a brief distraction from the task at hand. He had things to do today, after all.

Another officer stumbled into view, eyes wide, panic evident. He didn’t stand a chance. Sukuna barely glanced at him as he fired, stepping over the man as he slumped against the wall. Blood splattered his shoes, but it was hardly the worst stain on his day.

You were going to be pissed. He could practically hear the biting tone, the disappointed scowl that’d meet him the moment he finally made it to Mai’s first birthday party. Sukuna scoffed as he shot a bullet straight through a door that dared open near him, knocking down yet another obstacle.

But this was necessary. He needed to do this.

Free Toji. Kill Gojo. And then, eventually, deal with his meddling nephew. Everything would finally align, and maybe—just maybe—he could stop all this. For you. For your daughter.  

Satoru’s office was close now. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the door, the false air of authority that seemed to reek from it. He cocked his gun, steeling himself. Because when he was done here—when he’d finally finished what he’d started—he’d make it up to you.

Or so he told himself, as another officer charged and met the floor with a hole in his skull.

Sukuna didn’t bother with the doorknob. He slammed his boot into the door, sending it splintering inward with a loud crack. The office was stripped bare; Satoru’s usual pile of clutter, the irritating stench of his cologne—gone. Only the dust of where things once sat remained on the shelves and desk.

The bastard had fled.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the room. Gojo knew he was coming and had bolted like a coward hours ago. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a flick of his thumb, the small flame dancing aglow. Without a second thought, he stepped to the heavy, pretentious curtains Gojo insisted on, pressing the flame to the thick fabric. It caught quickly, embers licking up and curling black around the edges as the fire took hold, consuming Satoru’s last pathetic hold on this place.

He turned and walked out, ignoring the smoke that was already billowing into the hall. The prison alarm was still blaring, red lights flashing down the cold corridors as he made his way to the cells. Every so often, he’d pause, assessing the prisoner cowering behind bars. Rapists, pedophiles, molesters, abusers, killers of innocent lives—he moved on from them. But when he found those who didn’t quite repulse him, he took a single shot at their lock, releasing them in a stream of confused, wary freedom.

As he approached the far end of the corridor, a familiar sight greeted him—his old cell. And standing behind those hard, metal bars, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, was Toji.

“Didn’t think you’d come back to this hellhole,” Toji remarked. 

“Not for long,” Sukuna replied, levelling his gun at the lock. He fired once, the lock shattering as the cell door swung open. 

Toji stepped out of his cell, took one look around, then paused. “Hold up.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, watching as the man crouched beside a loose brick in the wall. With a wry smile, he pulled out an old, scratched-up plastic bottle with a wriggling, sickly-looking worm inside. He tapped the side of the bottle, making the creature twist and writhe. “Almost forgot my little friend here.”

Sukuna barked a short laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Alarms blared louder as they navigated the winding corridors and ran past prisoners surging toward freedom. Some guards tried to block the path, but they were quickly swept aside by Sukuna’s bullets and Toji’s fists. By the time they hit the outer gates, the entire prison was pandemonium, prisoners scattering into the open like ants from a burning nest.

Outside, a sleek, black car idled just past the gate. Uraume sat coolly behind the wheel, watching the stampede of convicts with bored detachment. As they approached, Uraume rolled down the window, glancing at them with their nose slightly crinkled.

“I could smell you two from a mile away,” they said dryly, eyes flicking to the stains of blood on their clothes. “Maybe next time, schedule a prison massacre that doesn’t fall on your daughter’s birthday?”

“Just drive,” Sukuna replied, sliding into the backseat with Toji following. Toji glanced at Uraume with a quick nod, still keeping a light hold on his bottle, the worm twisting inside.

“Welcome back to the real world, Fushiguro,” they said, starting the car as they drove off into the night.

The road stretched long and dark, winding into the depths of a thick forest. The further they drove, the thicker the trees became, their branches curving overhead to cast everything in shadows. The road narrowed into a rugged trail, overgrown and wild. Uraume navigated it deftly, until at last, the forest opened up, and they could see the soft glimmer of moonlight on the water beyond.

Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean stood their safe house—a dark brick estate against the endless stretch of water. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, the scent of salt and sea heavy in the air.

Sukuna looked at the house, then at Toji’s surprised face.

“This is where you’ve been hiding for the two years?” he asked as soon as they were out of the car. 

“Not for long if I fuck this up.” Sukuna slipped in through the garage, keeping his steps light. He had just one goal at this moment: reach the shower before you spotted the blood streaked on his clothes and the smell of gunpowder clinging to him. 

But as he shut the door, there you were, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they landed on him.

“Sukuna,” you started, an edge in your tone that he recognized all too well. “Do you have any idea what day it is? Look at you; you're a mess!” You gestured at the dark stains on his shirt and his unmistakable smirk.

Instead of trying to dodge the lecture, he listened, that faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you, soaking in each scolding word. You were the one person who never held back with him, and it made something dangerous in him soften, something in him settle. “I know, baby,” he replied, pecking your cheek. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you replied, sighing, though you couldn’t quite hide the relief in your voice. You glanced over his shoulder. “Toji, Uraume—it’s good to see you both.”

Uraume gave a slight bow, a wry smile still tugging at their lips, while Toji just gave you a quick nod.

You waved a hand, turning back to the kitchen. “Both of you boys—shower, now. I won’t have the two of you smelling like a prison while I’m trying to decorate my daughter’s cake. Go on!”

Toji gave Sukuna a knowing look and shrugged, as if to say, She’s right. Sukuna shot him a warning look, then followed up the stairs, chuckling under his breath as he imagined how you’d cornered him like this. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, cleaned up, feeling far lighter as he tugged on a fresh shirt and came downstairs, catching the scent of the dinner you’d prepared. 

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that melted your anger as he pulled you close.

“Gojo got away,” he murmured. “He knew I was coming, and he ran like the coward he is. But I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I swear it.”

You paused, looking up into his eyes, your hand settling on his cheek. “I know you will, Sukuna. But don’t miss the important things here. We’re what’s important now, not just revenge.”

The words took root in him, grounding him, but that flicker of rage still danced in his eyes. He pulled you close, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let him touch us again. I promise you that.” 

Just as you leaned in for another kiss, Sukuna heard the faint sound of your daughter stirring awake from her nap on the living room floor. Mai’s soft little whimpers broke the room’s quiet. Instinctively, he abandoned your kiss, his attention snapping to her as he practically floated over to where she was squirming in her pink dress, rubbing her tiny fists over her eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, scooping her up with all the gentleness he could muster. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and he was rewarded with that toothy little grin she’d recently mastered, one that brought an uncharacteristic softness to his entire face. He pressed a cascade of kisses on her cheeks, nose, forehead—anywhere he could reach. “Look at you, sweetheart. All dressed up for your birthday, huh? The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laughed softly from the kitchen, watching as Sukuna held her close, stepping into an impromptu waltz around the living room, his steps surprisingly skilled. She squealed in delight, her small hands reaching up to his face as he spun her around. Even Toji, who had just come down from the shower, stopped in his tracks at the sight, a rare, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Sukuna glanced up, catching Toji’s presence, and with a proud smirk said, “Toji, meet my daughter, Mai. She’s already got more spirit than most of the people you and I have met.”

Toji stepped forward, studying your daughter. He reached out a hand, and she looked at him with wide eyes, inspecting him with her natural, innocent curiosity. “She looks like trouble. Must take after her old man.” 

“Her mother, mostly,” Sukuna said in your direction, bouncing her lightly. “She’s going to have a whole world to handle, with us around.”

In the background, Uraume was setting the table, their usual precision in each movement. They threw Sukuna a blank look, brushing off their hands. “Now that the table’s set, if you’d all just take your seats, maybe we can have a peaceful birthday dinner without the talk of blood and violence for once.”

Sukuna chuckled, shooting them a dry look before turning back to his daughter. Holding Mai close, he took a seat at the head of the table with you beside him. He looked around, taking in the sight—the cake you’d just set down, the quiet chatter as Uraume and Toji exchanged comments, and his daughter babbling in his lap, still pawing at his face with sticky fingers.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt peace. 

The “Happy Birthday” song had been sung, candles blown out, cake shared, and Toji had crashed in the guest room, completely knocked out. Uraume, too, was resting in another room, finally allowing herself a few hours of sleep.

In your bed, the soft rise and fall of your daughter’s tiny breaths filled the space between you and Sukuna. She slept peacefully between you both, tiny fingers curled into fists as she dreamed. But you and Sukuna were both wide awake, eyes locked on each other in the moonlight. His hand drifted up, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“Do you remember my first letter?” you asked.

A smirk began at his lips. “You mean the diary entry about the cockroaches in your kitchen and how you thought seducing your landlord was a better solution than paying rent?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to wake your baby. He loved that laugh—the way it sounded like music only he got to hear.

“Or how no one with one functioning eye could ever be taken seriously romantically,” he added. “Debunked, by the way.”

Your laugh softened, and you looked at him with a smile that held a thousand memories. “Do you remember the last thing I wrote?”

“The part about Satanism?”

You laughed again, the sound bubbling up and melting into the dark. And as he listened, he couldn’t help but chuckle alongside, his thumb tracing along your cheek, taking in the moment like he was trying to memorise it.

You took a breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “I said I was lonely as hell, remember?” Sadness wove into your words. “And . . . I was. Back then, I thought no one could ever really understand me. Until you did.”

Sukuna shook his head. “You were never meant to be alone, baby,” he murmured. “Not then, not ever. Not while I’m here.”

You swallowed, heart catching as you looked at the life you’d built, the fragile happiness that now lay nestled between you both. “I’m just . . . scared sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m scared of losing this. Of losing you. I don’t know if I could protect what we have.”

“We’ll protect it together,” Sukuna affirmed. “Nothing will take this from us. Not while I’m still breathing.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deep, reassuring, exactly like the one he’d give you when you’d sealed your vows. When he pulled back, you met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. 

“I genuinely love you, Sukuna,” you whispered, fingers brushing his sharp jaw.

He took them and gave a kiss to the tips. “And I genuinely love you most, baby.” 

Moments later, your eyes drifted shut, your breathing evening out as you finally slipped into sleep. But Sukuna stayed awake, his gaze never leaving you, or your daughter. 

This was the family he’d fought and bled for, the life he’d killed to create. And yet, an unsettling undercurrent of unfinished business tugged at his nerves. But tonight, he forced it away, just for a while. 

For now, there was no room for anything but the second chance he’d been given.

[puckinghischier]

Currently sitting here daydreaming about being on the boat with the Hughes boys. Like, just imagine sitting in front of where Jack is as his hands rest against your shoulders where he’s softly massing your bare shoulders as he’s talking with Quinn and Luke as he cheekily plays with the strings of your bikini top, but you go to playfully slap his hand away as he’d chuckle and lean down to kiss your head as he’d pull you in closer as he’d whisper, “Sorry, pretty girl. Just can’t help myself when you look so beautiful. You know what that bikini does to me.”

“no, seriously, i think he’s gonna be even better this year. have you seen the work he’s been putting in this summer? the man is basically the hulk now,” luke rambles on, talking about someone on an opposing team, the name lost on you, not having tuned in to the full conversation.

you’re too busy feeling the warm sun on your darkening skin, basking in the feeling of being on the water.

“okay, you’re exaggerating a bit. he’s definitely been working hard, but he’s only worrying about strength, not skill or stamina,” you hear quinn’s voice respond.

you’re listening intently for clues at this point, too nosy for your own good, wanting to figure out who they’re talking about, but you can’t be bothered enough to ask.

“he’s definitely gotta work on his diet, too. heard he eats nothing but sugar and junk after games. can’t be helping the stats any,” your own boyfriend chimes in, nearly being able to feel the words leave his body as you’re leaned up against him, letting him rub soothing circles on your bare shoulders.

quinn and luke both mumble something in return, but you’re distracted by the switch up in rhythm of your lazy massage. his hands creep down farther towards the front of your shoulders, brushing your exposed collar bones.

leaning farther back, letting him know how much you like the new pattern, you force yourself back into sleuth mode.

“i just can’t imagine paying that much for a personal trainer out in LA just to throw it all away with bad habits. heard he’s been partying like crazy, too,” it’s quinn’s voice that gives you the clues.

LA? so they’re talking about someone from either the kings or the ducks.

as you’re running through your mental roster of each team, you feel the small strip of fabric on your shoulder be lifted from your skin, jack’s fingers slipping underneath to caress the soft skin there.

you keep yourself focused on your train of thought, knowing trevor has an affinity for sugary snacks and junk food, but surely they’re not talking about him?

“it just seems like a waste to me. kid’s got a lot of potential, but seems like he’s throwing it away before he even gets started,” your ears perk at the sound of luke’s voice.

so they’re talking about a prospect? or a rookie?

focusing even harder, thinking back to all of the conversations of jack’s you’ve overheard concerning this season’s prospects, you try to remember any mention of a player that fits the criteria.

however, all that focus you’re channeling goes straight to the feeling of one of your thin straps loosening dangerously. snapping your eyes open, you turn your head to try and see what happened, noticing large, nimble fingers toying with the half-untied not.

you bring your hand up immediately to swat his out of the way, clamping it down to stop any wardrobe malfunctions from occurring.

saying nothing, you turn ever so slightly to glare up at him, noticing the cheeky smile on his face as he looks at his brothers.

you bring your other hand over to re-tie the knot, huffing when you feel his rough hands move to the other shoulder, already toying with the other strap.

“would you stop it? we’re on a boat with your brothers. behave,” you quietly scold so that only he could hear, not wanting to disrupt the conversation you were trying so hard to decipher.

he glanced down at you, smirking before leaning his mouth down to your ear. “sorry, pretty girl. just can’t help m’self. look so pretty in all these colors,” he whispers against your skin, letting his hot breath fan over the sensitive spot behind your ear.

you shiver slightly, craning your neck to give him access to more of your skin, the sensation making you unable to focus on anything else.

“know you wore it just for me. s’my favorite, told you that, didn’t i?” he asks you, focusing his touch on your upper arms now, rubbing up and down in a teasing manner, drawing out goosebumps on your smooth skin.

“mmm, can’t remember, did you?” you basically pant out, swallowing a groan at the feeling of his lips placing a kiss to the top of your neck, tongue peeking out only slightly to taste your warm skin. he knows how quickly you fall apart at the action, eliciting the exact reaction he wanted from you.

his chuckle vibrates through your body, but the sound is covered up by the hum of a boat speeding by your stationary one, bringing you back to the reality of where you were.

you sit up, distancing yourself from jack only slightly, eyes glancing around to make sure no one witnessed the little ‘moment’ you and jack just had.

you swallow thickly, willing every nerve in your body to calm the fuck down.

quinn and luke are too wrapped up in their conversation to realize jack hadn’t chimed in for a few minutes, so they were completely oblivious to what he just tried to do.

relief washes over you, sinking back into jack.

“don’t think this is over, sweet girl,” he speaks lowly into your ear once again. “can’t promise they won’t hear just how happy this little suit of yours makes me when we get back to the house,” he finishes, causing your stomach to drop in anticipation.

you gulp as he raises back up, going back to rubbing your shoulders as if nothing ever happened.

“what do you think, jack? think he’s got the stamina to compete?” quinn asks his younger brother, continuing the conversation neither of you were focused on anymore, not noticing how rigid you’ve suddenly become.

“oh, i don’t know. guess we’ll have to see,” he shrugs. “we all know how important stamina is, after all,” he squeezes your shoulders, letting you know his words were meant for you, not his brothers.

when you can practically feel the smirk on his mouth as he said those words, you decided that buying this bikini was both the best and worst decision you made this summer.

[lickthehilt]

Ramble piece but it’s really poorly written because it’s 3am

Edit: adjusted and corrected some things 🗣️

You can’t imagine being left behind. Having no one look for you while you stumble in the dark, hands held limply ahead of your torso. Imagine being a fish deep in the abyss floating by specks of white before seeing the flickering swaying in the distance — but it’s always far, always moving, never winking back at you. Like two shooting stars, always one behind the other and never side by side. Come back my star, you would say.

Ramshackle is cold; not in appearance, but in temperature. You’ve been able to make a home out of someone else’s abandoned building. Although, you don’t like to use the word abandoned — the connotations are terrible: that someone loved and decided one day that they no longer did so. That this space was okay until it wasn’t and they left. You like to imagine that the wallpapers meant something. That because someone put the effort to decorate the barren walls, there was love behind that too.

Peeling wallpaper is love. The cobwebs are love too, from the spiders who had cherished the sharp corners and high ceiling. Charred bricks is love. Curled rugs is love. Sheer curtains is love.

Portraits.

How did you feel? When you travelled the world, it must’ve been…

Crowley had said that this man had a particular fondness for spreading his experience of Halloween. Give, give, give. How wonderful it is to teach, to share your passions and travel. But how lonely. To sleep alone and wake up alone.

It’s like being the only one not assigned a tutu in a group performance — having to stand on the stage behind a girl who does have one and hoping you remain her shadow. Or maybe it’s like being the only one to wear casual business when everyone else is wearing business casual to the interview. Like being the first person to flip over the test paper amongst the silent exam hall.

So yeah, lonely.

But his smile is so mischievous, creeping up his cheeks and accented by his bright eyes peering past his sunglasses. So maybe the loneliness doesn’t bother him? But. But, everyone feels lonely sometimes. Connections are not rare — relationships of all kinds (platonic or not) form where there’s a spark. A positive or negative one, who cares, there is now a dynamic.

So imagine leaving after established that dynamic. I’m sorry, I don’t know when I’ll see you again. But how wonderful this dance was. I won’t be able to kiss or touch you anymore. You won’t be able to follow me, you have a life here. Autumn won’t be the same without you but now, every time I see orange leaves and sunlight peeking through interwoven tree branches, I’ll feel you. Right here.

After the Halloween event on campus, Crowley (under easy influence) allowed you to ferry the portrait back into Ramshackle. Holding the portrait allows you to really admire it. There’s a crackle of paint decorating his lips and his hand flexes in great visual harmony to the rest of his body. And now the same man peers back at you above your fire place.

You hope that it’s warm enough.

[pbnbucks]

kk arnold smut prompt 20 😔🙏🏽

word count : 586

warnings : cussing, smut w strap, no plot, short

summary : you accidentally tell your sweet secret, only for her to feel the same way.

song : Birds Of A Feather by Billie Eilish || Play Dat Shit !

“i love you” you spurred out as the 5’9 girl in front of you continues to ramble on about what ever meaningless situation she found herself in pouring her heart out to you.

"What did you just say?" she says speechless when you quickly cover your hand with your mouth as kk quickly pulls your hand in hers.

“i know we have only been together for 8 months and its a bit early but-” she shuts you up with a hard pressed kiss on your lips as her hands make there way to your waist pulling you in walking you backwards to your bedroom.

she lays you on the bed as your legs wrap around her waist waiting for her to enter your slick. the strap fits her waist perfectly sitting on her curves, as she finally takes the moment to slip the silicone in to your guts as you both groan at the feeling.

her thrust never fault sliding in and out of your sopping core as her body hunches over you looking you in the eyes before planting a kiss on your lips.

“i love you to princess” she praises now making her way to kiss your neck peppering kisses that you knew where going to form in to hickeys.

your body disappears under her as your hands find their way to her back leaving long red stripes down her back at the gut wrenching feeling of her pleasing you.

the silicone hitting your slick with each stroke as the vulgar noises from your core echo around the room turning her on more then ever.

“feels so good kamorea” your cry out as her tongue dances on the skin of your neck while her breath quickens at the sudden movements with moans falling out of her mouth was music to your ears.

her sloppy kisses peppered on your skin making tiny red marks when she pulls away. her finger tips lingering on your chest.

the strap bouncing off your walls as your whimpers coaxed together in sync echoing across the dorm as the neighbors know your names by now.

her head resting on your breast as her tongue swirls your sensitive bud sucking every few seconds while she study’s your twisted facial expressions.

“do you know.. h-how beautiful you are?” she coaxed as her wet kisses became sloppy and needier when you felt her hands linger around your chest running across every angle she could feel up.

every thrust she pumped hitting your gummy walls as your liquids coated her thick, your legs trembled itching for your release. your hugged her shoulders trying to stable yourself.

“kk, fuck i need to cum” your moans turning to whimpers as her soft fingers ran up and down your thighs soothing your nerves along with your tensed body as your pleasure builds up.

“its okay baby, cum all over my strap while your at it pretty” her words sending you into awe when you finally let go. your legs began to shake are the silicone thats stretching you out.

the penetrating feeling of your sweat mixing together as you sneak a few kisses. her cock refusing to leave your deep cunt as your walls clenched around her toy breaking every barrier that held your cunt together.

“love you so fucking much” you hum at her response all fucked out and drained whiled she pressed her lips against your soft coconut smelling skin capturing every sight of you as she refused to take this moment for granted.

[sweetmodel]

hiii ! out of curiosity , do you know how many years you have spent outside of this reality ? like you could be 18 ( for example ) here , but your consciousness has actually lived for 33 years ( another random example ) - also you dont need to share your real age because that is personal information !!! thank you so much and you are literally my favourite tumblr account

Hello! I'm going to be honest but I don't really add up time together. It just stopped making sense to me once I started shifting. Because like, okay you add the time you were in your intended reality, but what about the years before? I mean, you lived there too in the past, you now have all the memories and knowledge, do you add those too? Also to me time is just really 3D-centric so I really don't care about it. The more I shift the more I feel like I know less and less lol.

But rambling aside cause that's not what anyone asked for, here's how much time I consciously spent in each reality, without counting the past of each life and all of their memories:

1-Canon Winx reality, from January 2022 to March 2022, my very first reality;

2-Fairy-Demon reality (based on a book I'm writing), from January 2023 to December 2023. This is the longest I stayed in a reality without shifting back and forth;

3-Superhero reality (not based on any sort of media here, Its mostly a niche reality I built off a dream I had long ago), okay this one is tripping me up because Its also a TV series I'm filming and I'm not sure what has and hasn't happened yet but I would say... During June-July 2022, then I was there again from March 2023 to September 2024... But I skipped a few weeks because I was going through a break up there, if you read one of my posts you might understand what I'm talking about ;) ;

4-Wizard reality (based on the game Wizard101), January 2024 to end of May 2024;

5-Fame reality/life, from September 2023 to October of 2025. Technically the longest, but also I would shift back and forth from my fame life to the next reality I'm listing, so it wasn't two years straight;

6-Fairy-Angel reality (A fusion/mashup between Winx and the book reality), this is the one I currently keep shifting to and so far it has been from January 2024 to May 2024, and probably the one I will stick to because I'm still trying to digest my fame life lol.

I don't use/have "time ratios', when I shift back to a reality (whichever it be, this one or any other one) is exactly when I "left it off";

But anyway, thanks for the compliment! (And sorry for any typos Its really late here).

[cakepoppresent]

I'm All Ears

Transcript Under the Cut plus more rambles ~

Lol I guess Daisuke is gonna have to ask Luna to spend the holidays with his family some other time

[Daisuke]: How does it feel? Its not too hot is it?

[Luna]: No it feels great

[Daisuke]: I’ve never done something like this before.

[Luna]: Really? It seems like you’re a natural at this. A little too good actually.

[Daisuke]: I can assure you this is a new experience for me. I didn’t realize this much product was needed.

[Luna]: Is it a lot of products? This is typical for my wash days. I didn’t even bring my products for my hot oil treatments

[Daisuke]: Shampoo, Conditioner, Leave in conditioner and something called hair milk. It seems like a lot

[Luna]: haha you sound like my brother. I have to force him to take care of his hair properly. But it’s not a lot I promise you and thank you for the help

[Daisuke]: Do you have any work lined up for Winterfest? I was hoping you could spend the holiday with me and my family

Luna's Thoughts

*How is Andre doing?* *What would Malcolm think?* *What the hell was her Dad doing*

[Daisuke]: Luna?

[Luna]: Oh My God! I’m so sorry Dai, You asked me something?

[Daisuke]: I did but it seems like you have a lot on your mind. Is everything okay?

[Luna]: Um...Its fine. I’m just worried about Malcolm, he’s just being a little annoying

[Daisuke]: Oh? Would you like to talk about it?

[Daisuke]: I’ve never seen you blank out like that. If it’s heavy on your chest I’m here to listen

[Luna]: I don’t want to bother you with my family drama. It’s just Malcolm being a big baby

[Luna]: I don’t want to be a bother

[Luna]: I know, I know but it’s still kind of embarrassing

[Daisuke]: Luna. You’re important to me I can’t just ignore you when its obvious you have something on your mind

[Daisuke]: Don’t overthink it. I’m all ears sweetheart

[Daisuke]: I can assure you nothing you tell can be worse than my own family

[Luna]: Really?

[Daisuke]: I promise you. I’ll fill you in on my own family drama. Come up on the couch and talk to me

[Luna]: I have an older brother, Andre, and he left after he graduated high school and just disappeared. Wouldn’t answer our messages or calls and our Dad refused to tell us anything about him. Malcolm took it really hard and feels like Andre didn’t care to stay...didn’t care about us anymore.

[Daisuke]: I’m sorry Luna, that must have been hard

[Luna]: Our dad wasn’t the greatest and Malcolm took a lot of comfort with Andre so when he left it was like that comfort disappeared and he had to deal with our dad on his own. I think he held out hope but when Andre didn’t show up for our graduation he completely wrote Andre off

[Luna]: I recently saw Andre working as a dishwasher at some restaurant and tried to get him to meet Malcolm and it blew up in my face. Malcolm doesn’t even want to have a conversation about him, but I'm worried about Andre. Malcolm feels like I’m going to abandon him, I obviously wouldn’t do that but now I feel I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

[Daisuke]: This isn’t overwhelming sweetheart. It’s better to get this all off your chest. Gives you a chance to see things more clearly.

[Luna]: It’s just exhausting. I want them both in my life but Malcolm can be very sensitive and I don’t know how to navigate this. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you but I just wanted to get this off my chest

[Daisuke]: We can keep talking about this for the rest of the night. I’m here to listen to all your grievances

[Luna]: Thank you Dai. This means a lot

[Daisuke]: Come on sweetheart, let's head to the bedroom

[Luna]: Okay. I want to go shopping tomorrow. Come with me?

[Daisuke]: Of Course

[crushedsweets]

what is the relationship between Nina and Toby? and what’s Clocky’s reaction to it

OK SO. in Creeped(my au) "canon" they arent romantic or anything, the Ninatoby ship art i posted is just cuz i like the ship LOL ...

BUUUT in my AU, they are really close and have a pretty confusing, but mostly positive, friendship! Honestly a lot of this is me sorta just rambling off concepts about them in my AU but. What am i if not off topic. i wrote liek 35898 pages

to begin, Toby met Nina through Jeff. Jeff would be hanging around the area, arm around Nina, showing her off like she's some trophy. so toby didnt really think much of her at first, just one of jeffs chicks - not really her own person. He’d not think twice when jeff would tell her to get the guys a beer or tell her to fix her clothes or generally being shitty to her - until jeff raises his voice at Nina, then toby is more likely to Sit up and watch a bit more carefully cuz he doesnt know what to expect and hes not gonna just watch jeff scream at her (although she’d be quick to scream back). 

I like to think that’d be one of the tuning moments for their relationship, jeff starts berating nina and standing up, toby perks up and is getting ready to intervene cuz it brings back bad memories, and nina starts screaming back cuz she DGAF. she dgaf. So toby would be like oh. Okay. so she does think for herself. an d the next time jeff tells nina to go get them beers, toby might be like “nah its fine i can get my own” rather than nodding along. FIX HIS BRAIN A LITTLE BIT. 

BUT because nina was coworkers with Natalie for a while(and friends), he eventually started hanging around nina more often casually. it sounds shitty but he used her for ego boosts cuz she was so quick to fawn over him ("you're so strong!! oh, that scar is so cool! i looove this haircut on you toby, let me touch!"). And i think its pretty nice for both of them, sort of passive bonding? Cuz toby grew up with a sister and a mom always smothering him and hugging him and lyra would ask him to braid her hair, and nina is just filled to the brim with affection spilling over in everything she does. MUTUALISTIC RELATIONSHIP. THEYRE THE ALIGATOR AND BIRD

AND they're both naturally pretty touchy people (toby wrapping his arms around shoulders, patting backs, picking people up, messing with hair. nina leaning on people, holding hands, tracing shapes, sitting on laps). i like to think that was one of the things that reaaaaallly got on jeffs nerves, which is part of the reason jeff and nina become so toxic with nonstop cheating on eachother, screaming matches, and his eventual stabbing. and part of why jeff and toby went from being pretty good buddies, to getting physically violent with eachother at the drop of the hat. And nina is really, really appreciative to have someone do that for her - cuz she’s the type to sit on the fence between friends, play both sides, not be assertive about who was right/wrong, etc and she’s used to everyone around her brushing off her feelings and how she’s treated. so toby firmly being like “he hurt you, i care about you, so i dont fuck with him anymore. Simple” would make her feel very like Wow. i feel important.

HOWEVER, they’re both really emotional, and really, really sensitive. It presents different, with ninas emotions being more like a breaking dam of tears and screaming and drowning in it, while toby is explosive shouting and burning and aggressive and just wants to suffocate the fire. Toby is a hypocrite though, and views Nina’s emotions as weak and pathetic just cuz she’ll cry and babble. He doesnt quite grasp that theyre both sensitive, he just validates his own anger as a ‘useful’ emotion that ‘gets shit done’ while nina is a whining babbling mess who wallows in it… AND HE’LL TELL HER THAT LMAAAOOO. And nina is mean and spiteful and will be crying while going off about how he’s a virgin loser little bitch with mommy and daddy issues and this and that and toby would just be like You fucking know what. Get the fuck out nina. (I DREW A COMIC OF THIS I WANNA REDRAW IT SOON). But nina will text toby and the convo sorta goes. “3: r u mad at meee” “ya” “v_v dont be mad…” “why” “cuz >_< i just bought pink lemonade Smirnoff and i got nobody 2 drink it with” “come over” then they dont actually dissect why they blew up on eachother. 

WHICH BRINGS ME TO YOUR LAST QUESTION ON CLOCKY…

She dgaf. Ok im joking. Im assuming you specified clocky so i can talk about if it upsets clocky.

She gets worried, actually. I dont want it to be interpreted as romantic jealousy, but she sees the way they connect on touch, being emotional, opening up, etc - meanwhile she’s sort of stuck in the middle of them and she struggles to open up, she bottles things up, she can be cold and quiet and distant. She’ll ignore their texts for days because she’s just not doing well and is trying to focus really hard on work(and her whole “getting better” thing), only to find out that instead of them harassing her like usual, they just hang out together and wait until she’s ready to reach out. And something about that irritates her. Cuz they were HER friends first 😒…LOL. But another part of her worry is the fact that they are both so emotional and they feed into eachother’s bad habits and is pretty blunt with telling them that.

BUT ASIDE FROM THAT!! She does love that her friends get along. It feels really good for her to have a close-knit group of friends who really care about her. Nina and toby will both make a shitty cake decorated in an ungodly amount of sprinkles and bring it to her. They’ll put her in a groupchat and blow it up with useless conversations. Theyll buy her concert tickets and make her come along. They get her out and are good for her in their own ways, even if theyre all very flawed. and she's not the type to give a shit about romantic jealousy

[midnightexe]

Anyone else feeling like this after the premiere today lads?

Okay so let me just preface this by saying Sun is the most tragic character in the entirety of TSAMS and, if I may be so bold, TSBS.

I am not going to ramble here on account of the back and forth pacing in my brain but just know today’s episode has 100% broken Sun even further and that man is like a grain away from breaking. He has been getting worse and worse and WORSE, and the fact he didn’t even get to celebrate Halloween despite making so many preparations and planning a party he couldn’t even properly ENJOY was just,,, heartbreaking. His hope was finally there and then immediately smothered by Moon’s kidnapping and then having to make the decision today.

I think either Sun is going to go numb kinda like Dark Sun is, or he’s just going to mask and keep pretending he’s fine. This doesn’t really count the descent into either of those states, but this whole thing is definitely the biggest trigger.

How many times is he going to be forced to choose between two bad options? How many times is he going to be forced to kill his own brother, accident or not?

This show has enveloped my brain and my partner and I are on copium.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Halloween Edition~ Can be read as a stand-alone

Description: Halloween special baby!!!! Reader tries to convince Dean to go to a halloween party with her even though they're on their way to Stanford to get Sam.

Warnings: This takes place before they get to Sam's college so we are going back a little but that's okay. Purely two idiots who clearly like each other but won't do anything, they already act like a couple, banter, flirting??? This is super self indulgent, can you tell what my favorite holiday is?

This can be read as a stand-alone/one-shot or as a part of the series (up to you.)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl

Word Count: 3,389

Halloween Drive

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

The golden morning sun streams through the passenger window of the Impala, casting soft beams of light over the dashboard. Outside, orange and yellow leaves dance to the ground, their descent slow and graceful, as if savoring the last moments of fall.

We won’t see trees like these for a while….I think. Despite all my hunting trips, I’ve never been to LA, or California in general, but I doubt their autumns could compare to the likes of Maine or Massachusetts where it feels like you stepped into another world. But for now, even though we’re still a couple of states away from where we need to be, fall still lingers, holding on in its final, beautiful breaths.

  The window is down, and the crisp air sweeps across my skin, weaving through my hair like a cool whisper. The leaves crunch as the wheels of the car roll over them, an earthly scent filling the car. “You seem particularly perky today,” Dean remarks. I glance over, and he’s already watching me, his green eyes glinting with curiosity.

  A wave of excitement surges through me, making me want to leap out of the car and sprint into a pile of leaves. “That’s because today is the best day ever, like, the best day out of all the days,” I reply, grinning so wide it feels like my face might burst.

  “Yeah?” he asks, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips, soft and teasing. His eyes drop, lingering briefly before they lock back onto mine. The sunlight hits those eyes just right, making the green glow a shade lighter, “And what day would that be?” Whether he’s humoring me or not is unclear. But, with a smile like that and the way his eyes shimmer, it does not matter. “It’s Halloween!” I beam, my excitement rivaling the brightness of the sun. He chuckles, his voice gravelly, the smile still lingering on his lips as his eyes shift back to the road, “Is that right?”

  “Yes, it’s Halloween, the best day ever! Therefore, we are obligated to do something, because frankly, that's just the rules,” I ramble, my excitement bubbling over. I feel antsy like I need to skip around to burn off the energy. 

  “Alright, sweetheart, slow your roll,” he says, chuckling,  “You’re practically bouncin’ in your seat.” 

  My eyebrows furrow in protest. I am certainly not bouncing, it’s just my veins buzzing with anticipation. But I can’t stay offended or grumpy on a day like this, so I quickly return to smiling. “I’m just really excited,” I reason.

  “I know you are,” he replies, his eyes twinkling, “I think you love Halloween more than any kid does.” And he’s certainly right.

  “Can you blame me?” I counter, “It’s Halloween, as in Halloween!”

  “Right,” he chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Are you always this excited on Halloween?”

  “What do yo–” Then it hits me. “Oh my god, have we really never spent a Halloween together?” I could’ve sworn we had. 

  “Nah, always around it. You were excited then, but this…” He glances at me, a playful smile spreading across his face, “This is a whole new level.” I must have confused it with those times we spent together indulging in candy and baked goods while watching slasher films. Those were good times, perfect times even, when the darkness fell and a bitter chill washed over the town and he’d show up at my doorstep as if the wind had brought him to me. They were stolen moments, times he wasn’t busy with a hunt or when he could break away from his Dad to spend the night with me. I don’t remember when the tradition started, but I know he always tried to make it, so it didn't matter if it wasn't on the holiday itself. My excitement around the holiday never wavered, either. Whether it was months or days before, or even days after, it always lingered, eagerly awaiting the next year. “Well, now you get to experience just how insufferable I am firsthand,” I remark with a grin.

  “I’d say adorable, but that works too,” he replies, grinning back, and I can’t help how my stomach erupts with butterflies.

  “What do you normally do on Halloween?” I ask, ignoring how my cheeks feel warm despite the cool air hitting me. I’ve somehow never thought to ask him, always too caught up in our fun together around the holiday. He shrugs, “Nothin’ really, just eating candy without your company.”

  I scoff, “You seriously never went to a party or anything? That seems like you’re scene.”

“Sometimes. Depends,” he answers vaguely.  

Stupidly I ask, “Not even to find a good hookup? Because no night is better than Halloween. In the wise words of Cady Heron, ‘Halloween is the one night a year a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.’”

  “Yeahhh,” he grins stupidly, and it’s obvious his mind is wandering. He could be thinking of those hypothetical hookups, or girls in slutty costumes. I suppose I can’t blame him.

  I hit his shoulder playfully, “Reel those thoughts in, cowboy.” The old pet name slips off my tongue before I can stop it. He seems to blink out of his daydream, returning to reality. “Speaking of slutty, what were you gonna be this year?” he asks, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to rest on the back of my seat, his fingers brushing my shoulder.

  “Oh, so you’re assuming I was gonna dress like a—” I tease, but he cuts me off with a knowing look and a quirked eyebrow, “Okay, fine. Guilty.”

  I lean down, digging through my bag at my feet until I find my little digital camera. “Lucky for you, I took pictures when I first tried on the costume.” I power it on, scrolling through past images until I find the photos I took in the mirror. I might as well consider a job in photography with how good they came out.

    “Bam! Little Red Riding Hood,” I announce, flipping the camera around for him to see. His eyes leave the empty road to focus on the little screen, and I know I look good. My makeup was dark, and my hair full. The costume itself has a detailed deep red corset with delicate white ruffles on top, pulled tight enough that my breasts nearly spill out entirely. The fluffed-up skirt, adorned with the same red and black details, barely reached mid-thigh. All topped together by the short cape that spilled down my shoulders, reaching the same length as the dress.

  His gaze drifts down the photo and then back up, incredibly slowly—or at least it feels that way as I hold the camera up. He flicks his eyes to the road, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe his butt is falling asleep, how long have we been driving? His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and then he wets his lips before speaking, “That’s a good costume.” He seems to notice the drop in his voice with the way he clears his throat.

  “Right? I think it’s super cute,” I say, fiddling with the camera, “I was gonna do a duo costume with my friend, but she had to cancel because of work, which is so lame. But, I guess it works out considering what I’m up to.” I glance at him again, but he seems far more focused on the road now than he was just minutes ago. His knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. “You alright there?” I ask, studying the tension in his jaw.

  He shakes himself out of his thoughts, his voice gravelly as he responds, “Yeah, yeah.” A short silence hangs between us before he suddenly jumps to a new topic, “You hungry?” he asks. “Because I could go for some grub right about now.”

  I laugh, choosing not to question his sudden shift in demeanor, “Sure.”

  The small dinner is quiet, but it brims with the spirit of Halloween. Bats dangle in the windows, swaying gently with the breeze each time the door opens. Decorative pumpkins sit on the island bar, and scarecrows and witches rest on piles of hay by the entrance, welcoming the guests. The place has a cozy, homey feel, though it lacks the bustle of life.

  The smell of coffee is strong as it wafts around the room, utensils, and dishes clinking as nearby people eat.  It’s a peaceful kind of morning.

  There’s an older man hunched over the bar, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. He absently pokes at his plate of eggs and toast, his movements slow, unhurried. A waitress with graying hair moves from table to table, her steps steady as she pours refills with a soft smile.

  The bell above the door jingles, and the quiet becomes interrupted by two sandy-haired boys rushing in, their little legs carrying them past us in excitement. The younger boy, no older than five, sports a tiny cowboy costume, his fake holster hitting against his side as he beelines towards the booth behind Dean. His slightly older brother follows, struggling to keep his own cowboy hat in place as they tumble into the seat, giggling all the way. A woman, their mother it seems, trails behind them. Her messy blonde ponytail bounces as she laughs, catching the eye of the waitress. “They insisted on wearing their costumes,” she explains, her eyes crinkling with warmth. The waitress smiles in return, placing a hand on her shoulder with a sparkle in her eye that reads of familiarity and community. 

  Life could be so beautiful. People could be so cute. 

  I shift my gaze back to the man in front of me, but Dean’s already looking at me, his green eyes peeking over the top of the menu. There’s something there—-something I can’t quite place. “Looks like you’ve got competition, cowboy,” I say, folding my arms on the table, nodding towards the boys behind him. He glances over his shoulder at the kids in the booth, his lips twitching into a slow grin.  He looks back at me and confidently declares, “I can take them.”

  I laugh, shaking my head, “You are horrible.”

  “What? You don’t think I’d win?” His expression is serious, but the slight curl of his lips gives him away.

  “Mm,” I hum, though my laughter breaks it, “I don’t know, a 2 v 1 seems a little difficult.”

   He taps his fingers on the table, feigning deep thought, “Right, right,” he mutters, biting his lip, “And they’ve got those water pistols.”

  “Yeah, some real competition,” I say, trying to hold back my continuous laughter. He just makes it so easy to laugh.

  “I can still take them.” he shrugs.

  “I can't believe we are talking about beating up children,” I shake my head, our stupidity staring back at us.

  “You started it.” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

  “Okay,” I scuff as if I’m insulted, “Well….not really! I meant in cowboy-ness.”

  “Cowboy-ness?” he repeats, eyebrows raised.

  “Uh, yes,” I say, doubling down.

  “Alright,” he leans closer, elbows on the table, “I’m not ‘cowboy’ enough for you, is that it?” he asks.

  “You’re plenty,” I answer, leaning closer, “cowboy.”

  He chuckles, tongue in cheek, “You wanna play that game, sweetheart?”

  “And what game would that be?” I ask. 

  “Hello!” A cheery voice greets. We both pull away, startling back as if we got caught doing something we shouldn’t have been doing, “My name is Sharon and I’ll be your server today.” My eyes flicker up to her, an older woman with blond hair, “Can I get you started with any drinks?” she asks. I look to Dean to see if he wants to go first but he nods at me instead, “Can I have a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon?”

“Good choice,” she smiles, scribbling it down on her notepad, “And you, sir?”

  “Black coffee,” he answers. 

  “Great! I’ll be right back with those,” she pockets her notepad and spins away.

  “Okay, a serious topic now,” I start, driving the conversation away from whatever was happening before Sharon came, “You. Me. Halloween Party. Yay, or Nay.”

  He scuffs, “You? A party?” disbelief rolling off his tongue.

  “Yeah,” I say like it’s obvious. 

  “But you hate parties,” he points out, “You get overwhelmed by all the people.” 

  “Okay, yes. But it’d be a Halloween party, which is different…a little,” I reason, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gives me a knowing look, “I’ve been to them before!” I add.

  “And how long did you last?” 

  I purse my lips, knowing he’s right. It sucked how well he knew me sometimes. “Okay, well, if I can usually make it an hour or sometimes more if I really push myself.” I may love Halloween but parties are not my scene. The idea of it always sounds cool, but going to one never lives up to my expectations. Though, my expectations are probably quite high. And, of course, he’s right. I do get overwhelmed by all the people and noise. There’s only so much Halloween music and decorations that can make up for that. And, in the case of non-holiday related parties, there’s only so much slutty music that can make up for it. Plus, enjoying that kind of music at home is far more fun. “You can’t say that staying at a Halloween party for a little while, then going to a motel and finding some terrible horror movie to watch while consuming a sickening amount of candy doesn’t sound incredible,” I point out.

  “Hate to bust your bubble, sweetheart, but we won’t be stoppin’ at all.” 

  “Huh?” 

  “Sorry. But we can make it to Sam today if we don’t stop more than necessary.” 

  I study his face in disbelief, scanning his features, “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he says.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just making sure you're you because when have you ever been the type to not dilly dally?” I remark, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Dilly Dally? Really?” he muses. 

  “Doesn’t matter what you wanna call it,” I shake my head, “You like to have fun far more than focusing on whatever the task at hand is.”

  “Alright, maybe that's true–”

  “It’s insanely true” I butt in.

  “But, the quicker we get to Sammy the quicker we find my Dad,” he finishes.

  Of course now, of all days, he’s the logical one. “I don’t like how good of a point that is.”

To say I’m disappointed would be the understatement of the year. But, it feels wrong to be even a little bit upset when, given the circumstances, we shouldn’t stop to have fun. I might not like John Winchester but he is their Dad and I did agree to help find him. So, I really shouldn’t be upset, or disappointed. It makes total sense to skip out on celebrating Halloween given the situation. I should be fine with this. 

  Totally fine with it…..

  I am so not fine with this.

  But, that’s selfish, isn’t it? It feels so wrong to want something at a time like this, let alone something indulgent. So what if Halloween is my favorite holiday and I spend 364 days waiting for it to happen again? This wasn’t the time to be selfish. I cannot be selfish. I’ll keep pretending it’s whatever because it has to be whatever. The open road is ahead of us and we’re one too many hours away from Stanford to complain about some holiday. And it is just some holiday…right?

  This sucked. 

  Would it be appropriate to throw a fit? Because it feels like ‘throw a fit’ time. 

  No. It’s okay. You don’t have to celebrate a holiday to appreciate it in all its glory. Yeah.

  It’s not disappointing and it’s not sad. Not at all. Not one bit. Everything’s okay. The world will keep spinning.  “You’re pouting,” Dean suddenly says, breaking the silence that had settled between us since we got back in the car.

  “I’m not pouting,” I correct, eyeing him from my peripheral vision. 

  “Then what's with that bottom lip?” He replies, eyes slipping away from the road to look at me. I correct my face, keeping any potential pouts away. “Why are you looking at my lips?” I throw back without thinking. He scuffs, rolling his eyes, “You’re ridiculous.’

  “Hey,” I whine, eyebrows scrunching together.

  “There’s that pout again,” he points out.

  “Leave me and my pout alone,” I argue,  hitting his arm. Except he doesn’t react to it at all, not even a flinch. Maybe I should stop pulling my punches. “So you admit you were pouting,” he smirks.

  Now he’s doing this on purpose. I give him an unamused look that I hope he can see from his peripheral, “You're going to make me lose my mind…hope you know that.”

  “Not the worst thing a guy can hear,” he shrugs with a smug smile.

  “Now you’re the one being ridiculous,” I mock, but his stupid implication makes my stomach flutter in the most pathetic way possible. 

  “‘You wanna tell me why you’re upset?” he asks, putting us back on the intended conversation.

  “I'm not upset,” I answer.

  “If this is about the Halloween thing, I’m sorry.”

  “No, I know. And it makes total sense, I’m not upset,” I assure. He looks at me then, eyes studying my face for the truth. I don’t know what he finds but it must be enough for him to accept what I said since he returns his eyes to the road.

 An orange hue settles on the horizon, the sun on her descent. As she dips down, so do the hours left of the day and my spirits. While everyone else got to celebrate the holiday, I couldn’t. It’s been hard to stay in a good mood. 

  At least the drive has been nice. That’s a positive thing I can focus on. It’s been nice to feel the cold air on my skin, to intake the crisp smell of leaves and nature. But, it also makes me long for what I can’t have. 

  The hours dwindle on. Halloween dwindles on.

  It’s just one year I’d be missing, it’s not the end of the world.

  Maybe I should take a nap. That's sure to make it better, or at least make me feel I’m not missing out on anything.

  It’s not a difficult task to accomplish as I fold my arms across my chest, curling into myself. My eyes flutter close with the soft drive—the soothing motion of it, the crisp air, the chill that bites at my skin…..

…..

….

..

.

  My eyes open, blinking impossibly slowly as they adjust to being awake again. Sleep clings to my brain, wanting to pull me back under the waves of rest. I stretch my aching limbs with soft sighs, something soft slipping down my shoulders….

  Wait.

  I blink rapidly, forcing my brain to work and catch up. The soft thing skims down my arms, I peer down at it through squinted eyes. A blanket. It’s a blanket. A soft white blanket with pumpkins on it…

  What?

  “Dean?” I call, my voice dripping with the remains of sleep.

  “I’m right here, sweetheart,” he answers smoothly. He’s still driving, hands steady on the wheel. I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Near darkness cloaks the car now, the only guiding light being the headlights. “Wha—where did this blanket come from?” I ask, but my brain is not finding a logical solution.

  Dean clears his throat, “I, uh, bought it…for you.”

  “You did?” I ask, a soft, dopey smile on my lips. I take the blanket in my hands, the soft material all warm and wonderful. When did he buy this? Why did he buy this? I have so many questions, but they are all outweighed by the warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart.

  “You were cold,” he explains, “You were shivering.”

  “So you stopped out of your way to get me a blanket?” The smile on my lips and the flutter in my gut is uncontrollable.

  He keeps a stoic face like he won’t show the vulnerability of his care. “Look in the backseat,” he directs, mumbling.

  I give him a questioning look but do so anyway, twisting in my seat. A grocery bag sits there, its contents spilling out enough to identify it as a bag of candy and a DVD of some sort. My heart stutters, my mind working to compute this information while remembering to breathe. Right, I have to breathe. “No…” I say, turning to him slowly, “You didn’t.”

  He shrugs, a slight smile pulling on the corners of his lips, “It’s Halloween.”

  “Dean Winchester, if you weren’t driving right now I’d tackle you in a hug,” I admit. That familiar pump of excitement flowing through my veins again. 

  “I know it’s not the same—-”   “Are you kidding me?!” I cut him off, “This is incredible, it’s amazing—-You’re amazing!”

  “Watch what you do to my ego, sweetheart,” he teases with that easy charming smile.

  “I might regret giving you an ego boost later but right now….” I shake my head, “This is perfect.” 

  Is it possible to be in love with someone twice? 

  His smile softens, and after a moment’s pause, he makes up his mind. He signals, guiding the Impala off the long stretch of road and onto the gravel shoulder, the car coming to a gentle stop. “If I make you wait any longer you might explode,” he remarks, his voice warm. 

  I don’t waste another second—grabbing my laptop from my bag and my new blanket, I’m out of the car in a heartbeat, excitement bubbling up inside me as I hurry around to his side. I shift eagerly from foot to foot as he takes his time sliding out of the driver’s seat, teasingly slow. But, the moment he’s up, I practically leap at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down to my level. His hands instinctively find my waist just as my lips meet his cheek. I press a soft kiss there, feeling the warmth beneath my lips, the yearning in my chest only growing. Pulling back just enough to catch his gaze, I beam up at him before peppering his cheek with quick kisses.

  I pull away for good this time, laughing. I move too quickly to catch his expression, but as I slip into the backseat and beckon him over, he pauses for a moment before joining me. Once inside, he guides me into place, settling us comfortably with his back against the door and me sitting between his legs. The blanket he bought me is draped over us, and my laptop balances on my lap.

  He already has several pieces of candy stuffed into his mouth, the wrappers discarded carelessly around him, when I slide the DVD of Jeepers Creepers into my laptop.

  Maybe today didn’t start perfectly, but right now, here together, nothing else matters.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Hidden in Plain Sight (3) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 2 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Y/N strolled through the neighborhood, her mind buzzing with ways to tease Dave. She was endlessly entertained by how adorably flustered he got under that mask—especially when she pushed the limits, gushing over him like he wasn’t the same guy beside her, trying desperately to stay composed. She knew he tried to be respectful, but she often caught him sneaking glances at her chest, and every time she called him out on it, he’d blush furiously under the mask.

Lost in her thoughts, she was pulled back to reality by a quiet cough from behind. Turning, she saw Kick-Ass himself standing there, adjusting his mask nervously.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to show up,” she teased.

“I–uh, sorry I’m late,” he replied, still slightly out of breath.

She smirked, nudging him lightly as they began walking. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I just wanted to tell you all about Dave. I finally talked to him yesterday, and it went so well! I asked him to tutor me in calc, and he said yes. Now we’re going to spend all this time together.” She glanced at him, watching his hands start to fidget as she kept going. “I’m just worried, you know? I’ll be trying to learn, but I don’t think I can focus when he’s around. God, he’s so hot. And those hands…” She trailed off dreamily. “I always wonder what they’d feel like on my—”

Suddenly, Kick-Ass stumbled over his own feet, nearly tripping into the street. Y/N pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud, but she couldn’t stop herself entirely.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I know I’m rambling. What about you? Got anything spicy going on in your love life?”

Kick-Ass cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “Uh, yeah. It’s, um… good.”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to give me more than that! I’m basically pouring my heart out here, and I get ‘yeah, it’s good’? Spill!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he relented, clearly trying to think of a way to answer without giving too much away. “There’s this girl, and she’s—”

CRASH.

Oh thank god, Dave thought.

A loud noise cut him off, followed by shouting around the corner. Instinctively, he snapped to attention. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, as the two of them took off, sprinting towards the sound to see how they could help.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day, both Dave and Y/N stepped up their game a bit. Dave put extra effort into picking a shirt that didn’t smell like his closet floor, even making sure his hair didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed. Meanwhile, Y/N chose a lower-cut shirt and wore that perfume she knew drove him crazy, adding just a hint more makeup for that extra polished look.

As calculus neared, Dave practically power-walked to the classroom, heart pounding, and took his seat, eyes glued to the door. When Y/N entered, she caught his gaze, offering a warm smile and a wave.

“Hey, Dave,” she greeted, walking up to his desk. “Are you still free to tutor me after school?”

“Of course!” he replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but she just smiled, and he watched as she headed to her seat.

For the rest of the day, Dave’s mind was nowhere near his classes. The only thing that seemed to register in his brain was the thought of his upcoming study session with Y/N.

When the final bell rang, Dave wasted no time heading to the library. Halfway there, his phone buzzed with a text:

Y/N: At the table near the back of the library :)

He found her easily, smiling as she waved him over. “Hey, Y/N. Are you ready to start?” he asked, taking the seat beside her.

“Yup! I was hoping we could go over the first unit,” she replied. “I think missing that might be why everything else isn’t making sense.”

“Sure, let’s start there,” he said, pulling out his textbook. He walked her through some basic concepts, then pulled out a sheet of paper to work through a few examples. As he began writing, Y/N scooted her chair closer to get a better view, leaning in, and he felt his mind go blank for a second.

“Uh, so, um,” he stuttered, nearly forgetting what he was supposed to be teaching.

With every example, Y/N seemed to get closer, her shoulder brushing his every so often, her perfume making it impossible for him to concentrate. By the end of the session, Dave was practically melting, trying to keep his focus.

“Thanks so much,” Y/N said as they stood up, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “You’re a great teacher, Dave.”

He barely managed to stammer out a reply, feeling like he’d floated to another dimension. As they walked toward the library doors, she mentioned she was planning to walk home.

Dave felt a surge of courage. “I could, um, walk you home if you want?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The walk was relaxed, conversation flowing easily. They talked about comics, giving each other recommendations, Dave told stupid stories about Todd and Marty, Y/N talked about a party she went to, and just learned more about each other. Every minute of it felt more natural than anything he’d experienced, like the superhero masks weren’t necessary anymore.

When they finally reached her house, Y/N turned to him, eyes warm. “Thanks for walking me home, Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded, practically grinning from ear to ear. “Definitely. See you.”

As he walked back to his own house, he couldn’t stop smiling, mind whirling with every little moment he’d just spent with her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Between superhero patrols and calculus tutoring, Y/N and Dave had been seeing a lot of each other lately. They texted all the time, and Dave had been noticing her texts popping up at any time of day, which made him grin even at the simplest “Hey, what’s up?”

Saturday afternoon brought him a new message:

Y/N: Dave, pleeease save me! I’m so boooored. :( Dave: I’m about to walk to Atomic Comics to meet Todd and Marty. Wanna hang out with us? Y/N: YES, THANK YOU. Dave: I’ll stop by your place on my way.

He set off for her place, nerves jangling. As she joined him on the walk to the store, he tried to keep his cool but couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Just a heads-up: my friends are, uh… really weird.”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “They can’t be that weird. I bet they’re just like you—maybe a little shy.”

Dave only chuckled in response, inwardly wincing at how little she knew about Todd and Marty’s lack of social skills.

They slid into a booth across from Todd and Marty, who were already seated. As Dave introduced Y/N, both of his friends seemed frozen, eyes wide, staring at her like she was from another planet. Five silent, awkward seconds passed.

“Guys… Really?” Dave whispered, giving them each a nudge under the table. “Don’t act so… I don’t know… weird?”

That seemed to do the trick. Todd cleared his throat and muttered a barely audible “Hi,” while Marty attempted a smile and a wave.

Y/N just smiled back, unphased, and Dave jumped into conversation about a new Spider-Man x Wolverine crossover he’d been obsessed with lately. As he pulled the comic out from his bag, Y/N scooted closer to look, her shoulder pressing against his. Dave tried to keep his focus on the comic’s cover, but it was hard with her so close, leaning over to see. He felt his face flush and prayed that Todd and Marty wouldn’t say anything embarrassing.

From across the table, they exchanged looks, clearly unable to believe that Dave was sitting that close to Y/N.

Eventually, Dave got up to go to the bathroom, leaving Y/N with his friends. She looked across at them with a smile. “So, guys, I’ve gotta know—what are the best comics here? I’m kind of new to this whole thing.”

The question seemed to break through the last of Todd and Marty’s reservations. Todd’s eyes lit up, and he immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation of his favorite series, going so far as to pull up comic covers on his phone and explaining key plot points. Marty joined in, pointing out his personal favorites on a nearby rack.

Y/N listened, nodding along and laughing at their side tangents. It didn’t take long before she was laughing along with them, chiming in with questions and responding to their recommendations with genuine curiosity. Soon, Todd was leading her around the store, showing her the most underrated comics and detailing why certain storylines were, in his words, “the best character arcs of all time.”

By the time Dave came back, Y/N was chatting with them comfortably. “So, okay, this whole series is a must-read,” she was saying, holding up a copy of Saga that Todd had practically forced into her hands. “Where should I start?”

“Volume one!” Marty and Todd chorused. Todd gave her a detailed breakdown of how she could get up to speed in no time.

Dave sat down, unable to keep from smiling at the way she fit in with his friends. “Making converts?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh, totally,” Y/N said, scooting back beside him. “I’m basically a comic expert now.”

The four of them ended up lingering at the shop, laughing over various comics and obscure references, until the store started dimming its lights to close up. When they got up to leave, Dave offered to walk Y/N home.

They talked the whole way, chatting about the evening, laughing about Todd and Marty’s passion for comics, and revisiting her new reading list.

“Your friends are funny,” Y/N said as they stopped at her door, smiling.

He laughed. “Funny? That’s new. Usually, they’re terrible.”

She laughed too, eyes twinkling, and then, without warning, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dave.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his cheeks tingling where her lips had brushed his skin. “Uh—goodnight,” he managed weakly as she turned and slipped inside.

Walking home, his head was all fuzzy. As excited as he was about how close he and Y/N were getting, there was that nagging thought in the back of his mind—could he really get close to her without ever telling her he was Kick-Ass? It made him wonder if he could ever have a real chance with her if he kept hiding half his life.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After school one day, Dave was hanging out at Atomic Comics, flipping through the latest issues with Todd and Marty, when he heard the bell above the door chime. He glanced up from his comic just in time to see Y/N practically sprinting into the store, her face lit up with excitement. She beelined straight toward him, holding up a crinkled piece of paper with a big red “92%” circled at the top.

“Dave!” she almost shouted, her grin so wide it looked like her face might split in two. “Look! 92! I got a 92 on my calculus test!” Before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, her words muffled but still bursting with enthusiasm.

Dave’s brain went into overdrive, his senses zeroing in on the warmth of her arms around him, her hair brushing against his cheek, and the soft, citrusy scent of her perfume. Somehow, he managed to wrap his arms around her, gently squeezing her back.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured, grinning ear to ear.

When she finally pulled back, her hands still rested on his shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes gleaming with excitement. “We have to celebrate. You should come over tonight. We’ll watch a movie, and I’ll buy a ton of your favorite snacks. What do you say?”

Dave’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it. “Uh… yeah, sure,” he stammered, doing his best to sound casual, though the idea of spending an evening alone with her made him feel anything but.

“Great!” she said, her smile widening even more—if that was possible. With a final wave, she turned and headed for the door, throwing a quick “Bye, guys!” over her shoulder to Todd and Marty.

The door closed, and the three of them watched her leave, stunned into silence. Todd was the first to break it. He nudged Dave with his elbow, eyes wide. “Dude,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. “This is it. Tonight’s the perfect night to tell her how you feel. You’ve gotta do it!”

Marty nodded enthusiastically, his expression a mix of excitement and impatience. “Seriously, man. She invited you over for a movie night. She wants to celebrate with you. You can’t just ignore that!”

Dave looked between his two friends, his excitement battling with nerves. “You think so?” he asked, even though he could barely contain his own excitement at the thought.

Todd clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, Dave. Just be honest with her.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Dave thought he might actually pass out.

As soon as you opened the door, he had to fight to keep his mouth from hanging open—you were in the cutest pair of fluffy pajama pants and a tiny tank top that showed just a hint of midriff. It was unfair, honestly. Before he could even fully process it, you grabbed his arm, and with a warm smile, pulled him inside, leading him up the stairs and straight to your room.

Walking into your room felt like stepping into another world, one that was undeniably and entirely you. Posters lined the walls, your desk was organized in a way that was both chaotic and charming, and there were little knick-knacks on your shelves that seemed to tell a story all their own. It was exactly how he’d imagined it… Not that he imagined your room or anything like that. That would be weird, right? Totally weird. Totally not him. He definitely did not imagine your room all the time… though, looking around, it was kind of uncanny how close he’d gotten it.

"Go ahead and get comfortable! I’m just grabbing more candy from the kitchen," you said, heading out the door.

He nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed, still taking everything in. Then he noticed a plush bunny sitting at the top of your pillow. Grinning, he reached over and picked it up, giving it a little squeeze, admiring its big, floppy ears. He was caught red-handed when you came back, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you laughing at him.

“Oh my god, you’re one of those people, huh?” he teased, holding the bunny up like a prized possession.

You put a hand on your hip, rolling your eyes playfully. “Yes, I am, and it’s cute, okay?”

He chuckled, flipping the bunny around in his hands. “What’s his name?”

You groaned, blushing. “Come on, Dave… do you really need to know?”

He put on a serious face, hugging the bunny dramatically. “Absolutely. His name is—”

You bit back a smile, rolling your eyes. “… it’s Mr. Floppy.”

He choked back a laugh. “Mr. Floppy? Well Mr. Floppy is my new best friend now.”

“Oh no, how will I ever survive,” you replied in a mockingly dramatic tone, unable to hide your grin. Within seconds, the two of you broke out in a fit of laughter, your voices mingling in a way that made your room feel like the safest, happiest place in the world.

Settling down, you handed him a bowl of candy and flopped onto the bed next to him, pulling up the movie. As it started, you shifted closer, so much so that Dave could feel the warmth radiating from you. By the time you were twenty minutes in, you were nestled against his chest, his arm resting around you almost instinctively. He didn’t dare move—this was the closest he’d ever been to you, and he could feel his heart racing, every nerve on edge. Every thirty seconds or so, he couldn’t help himself; he’d glance down at you, admiring the way the glow from the screen softened your features.

After a while, you must’ve felt him looking at you because you shifted, turning to meet his eyes. The two of you were so close that your breaths mingled, and the tension between you was thick enough to cut. In a quiet voice, you tilted your head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Dave swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing, it’s just… you look really pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you offered a shy smile, thanking him softly as you continued to gaze into his eyes. The movie was entirely forgotten now.

“Y/N, I… uh, I really like you,” he stammered, finally gathering the courage to say what he’d been holding back. “You’re so smart, beautiful, and… way out of my league, but I can’t help it. I really want to be more than friends.”

For a moment, you simply looked at him, and his heart felt like it might stop entirely. “Say something… please,” he whispered, his voice laced with nervousness.

Finally, a smile spread across your face, and with a glance down at his lips, you leaned in, closing the gap with a gentle, sweet kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, “I like you too, Dave.”

A grin broke across his face, and he could hardly believe this was happening. “Can I… can I kiss you again?” he asked, breathless, as if he were asking permission for a once-in-a-lifetime privilege.

Laughing softly, you replied, “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

This time, he kissed you deeper, pouring every ounce of his feelings into it, savoring every second. The kiss grew more passionate, and his heart pounded in his chest, but when you finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but let out a soft, disappointed whine, not wanting the moment to end.

You bit your lip, an amused smile on your face. “I actually have something to confess, too,” you said, your voice softer now.

Sitting up straighter, he looked at you with wide eyes, a slight furrow in his brow. “What is it?”

You took a breath, meeting his gaze. “I know you’re Kick-Ass.”

For a moment, he froze, his mind scrambling. “W-What?” he spluttered, immediately trying to backtrack. “I—Kick-Ass? No, that’s—that’s not me! I’m, uh—”

You held up a hand to stop him, laughing softly. “And I know you know that I’m Y/S/N.”

His eyes widened even further, and he seemed completely thrown off. “But… you always talked about ‘Dave’ to me when we were out, you know, fighting crime together. I thought… I thought I had you fooled.”

You shrugged, grinning. “I just liked teasing you. It was… kind of adorable to see you get all flustered.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the realization dawning on him as his face flushed a deep red. He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. The two of you settled back into the bed, and a grin spread across his face as a new thought occurred to him.

“Just think about it, though—we’d make the most amazing superhero couple ever,” he said, his voice bubbling with excitement at the idea. “Kick-Ass and Y/S/N, taking down bad guys together? We’d be unstoppable!”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you poked his chest. “Not so fast, Kick-Ass. Before we start planning our crime-fighting future, you’ve gotta take me on a proper date first.”

He grinned sheepishly, nodding as he took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Right. Totally. Consider it done.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ and that concludes this story! thank you all for reading <3 I’ll probably go back through this another time and edit it a bit. If anyone has any Kick-ass fic recs or ideas please send them my way pretty please :)))

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

The Foundations of Decay (My Chemical Romance)

The guiltiness is yours/You must fix your heart/And you must build an altar where it swells/When the storm decays/And the sky it rains/Let it flood, let it flood, let it wash away/And as we stumble through our last crusade

And if by his own hand his spirit flies/take his body as a relic to be canonised/and so he gets to die a saint /while she will always be the whore

Let our bodies lay where our hearts will stay/Let our blood on vacation, you'll find God in pain/And if by his own hand his spirit flies/Take his body as a relic to be canonized/And so he gets to die a saint but she will always be the whore

"Every single lyric is so fucking powerful. the instrumentals hit every time. it’s such a powerful and moving and motivational song like yeah, everything is fucked up and ruined and will never be the same again. but keep moving. get up (coward). fix your heart. god it’s so good."

“Aside from being MCRs return song after 10 years. There's so much pain, and rage, and just deeply felt emotion. When I saw them live, screaming GET UP COWARD at the end is the single loudest sound I have ever made in my life."

"It's just... a spiritual feeling that washes over me whenever I listen to this song. I feel like I die and am reborn thousands of times throughout its six minute duration. The lyrics are poetry. A battle between giving up and letting the decay take over you or overcoming it and getting up no matter the consequences. But it's not like a gym song to work out to. It's a battle song to make it though the dark cave that is depression and suicidal thoughts and trauma. It's a song that brings you back from the dead."

I/Me/Myself (Will Wood)

I wish I could be a girl, and that way/You'd wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend/Am I pretty enough to love back?/No not yet/I wish I could be a girl, and really/I'd prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself/Am I pretty enough, am I pretty enough to fucking die?

"Do you KNOW what the line “I am quantum physics, my witness brings me into existence” has DONE to me. to my psyche. because it’s like. okay so I’m so sorry if you know all of this already but in quantum physics theres something called the observer effect, where if you you measure something, it affects it. Like by checking tyre pressure, you have to let some air out, so you can’t physically measure it without changing what you’re measuring. in normal day to day life (like the tyre) this doesn’t really matter, because the effect is so small that you can basically ignore it. but quantum physics deals with really REALLY small shit so every single effect matters. Basically. observation of an object changes it’s state. this line is about acceptance. the euphoria of someone calling you by your preferred pronouns or chosen name. observation changing your state. It might seem small to others- someone who’s never been misgendered in their life it’s not even something that would occur to them, but to a trans/nb person who’s being observed, being SEEN? it’s everything. AND THE SHEER PUNCH OF “say my name like a slur, but I’ve been called worse” like. FUCK. oaky I think I’ve rambled enough about One Entire Line so lemme just wrap this up by saying that Will Wood is a cis man who ID’ as genderqueer for a while before realising that he wasn’t, he just had some internalised shit about being gnc and not traditionally masculine to work through, so he wrote this song about his frustrations with gender in general and about how clinging to an identity that didn’t fit him can hurt you"

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → panic, fluff

Summary → Peter experiences sudden physical changes and new abilities after being bitten by a spider. Panicked, he texts you for help. You arrive, calm him down, and vow to figure out the situation together.

(gif not mine)

You had been anxiously waiting for an update from Peter, but he remained unresponsive. After he was bitten by a spider the day before and developed a fever, you stayed with him at his apartment throughout the evening, offering comfort and support. As night fell, you reluctantly had to return home, leaving him in Aunt May’s care, hoping he would start feeling better soon.

Your worry intensified until, in the afternoon, you finally received a text from him.

Petey: Code Red, Babe! Come over ASAP!

You: Peter!

You: Are you okay?

You: Why didn’t you text me sooner?

You: Baby, what happened?

You: Peter?

You: I’m on my way.

You hurried over to Peter's apartment, which was just two buildings away. When you knocked on the door, Aunt May opened it.

"May! Is Peter okay?" You hugged her quickly, your concern evident.

"He had a high fever last night, but it was gone this morning. He’s not letting me or Ben inside his room. Did he call you?"

"He texted me. I’ll see what’s going on."

"Alright."

Before you could knock on Peter’s door, he flung it open, yanked you inside, and locked it behind you. He was only wearing sweatpants, with no shirt or glasses.

Peter looked drastically different. He appeared taller, more muscular, and had a set of abs. He had transformed from a thin, scrawny kid into someone who looked like he had been hitting the gym hard.

Peter, clearly panicked, started rambling.

"Babe, I don’t know what’s happening! But things keep changing. I can see without my glasses, I have muscles and abs, and I’m taller—all in one night. The scariest part is, I’m sticking to things! I ripped my shirt and broke my keyboard! I can hear everything; I even felt you coming to my room. I don’t know what to do—"

You stared at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in shock.

"BABE!"

"Wha— you have abs," you whispered, almost in disbelief.

"Please, help me." Peter’s voice wavered, on the verge of tears.

You quickly hugged him, but he freaked out, worried that he might stick to you. He jumped away, continuing to babble.

In a sudden, decisive move, you kissed him. The kiss seemed to stop his frantic talking and calm him down.

"Hey, calm down. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out, okay?"

Peter nodded, visibly relieved by your presence and support.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer now. "I didn’t know what to do, and I was so scared."

"We’ll take this one step at a time," you reassured him, taking his hand. "First, let’s figure out what’s happening and then we’ll find a way to fix it."

Peter’s eyes softened as he looked at you, gratitude shining through. "I’m so glad you’re here."

You smiled gently, squeezing his hand. "Me too. Now, let’s see if we can get some answers. We’ll get through this together."

As you both sat down, the bond between you felt even stronger. You were determined to help Peter through whatever challenge lay ahead, knowing that with your support, he would find his way through the chaos.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[shawshankshadow]

i ramble about sxsg and disability metaphors and talk a little bit about love 👇🏼

first of all i’m high. so if this is incomprehensible hot garbage you know why. im fighting for my life trying to string words together

ithink a lot of what’s at the core of shadow gen is the theme of “accepting it in all its bittersweetness”. like - shadow going from hating himself for his alien dna to shadow learning how to be okay with it, acknowledging it while refusing to let it take away his autonomy and personhood. shadow going from blaming himself for maria’s death, wishing with all his heart that he could go back and “fix his mistake”, to respecting maria’s request to leave the timeline unaltered, transforming her death from being a result of his “failure” to being a result of him respecting her autonomy, even though it killed him to do it. being able to accept that her death was something he needed to allow “to exist” - both in the timeline and in his own internal reality - without pretending like he wasn’t shattered over it feeling like he was bad for not having prevented it. like “yeah this is kind of hard but i gotta let myself grieve and still live my life without forever chasing the impossible. life is still worth living, and i still deserve to live and be happy.”

and it makes me think of maria and her nids diagnosis, and how the brevity of her lifespan wasn’t a markdown on the value her life - she obviously still deserved love and life and joy and friendship, and she (shadow) wasn’t a “thing” to be socially othered because of these involuntary realities (maria’s genetic condition, shadow’s “disgusting” alien heritage).

with the black arms dna, we get a story about shadow accepting his body and heritage for what it is and finally letting go of the anger and self-hatred over the fact that this is his genetic makeup.

with his acceptance of her death - he goes from hating himself for not saving her, to consciously letting void!maria return to the timestream despite knowing she was going to dje, after which point he “returns to reality” (WHEW!!)

if you want to, you can parallel maria with shadow, and her nids to both his black arms dna and her death. following the parallels through, we could conceivably get a (extremely faint, not really even implied) disability acceptance story arc for maria, where she starts out seeing her diagnosis as this horrible curse, this disgusting thing that must be cured, that’s taking away her bodily autonomy - to accepting it and allowing herself to fight for happiness and acknowledge that she has worth and value despite everybody around her telling her she’s a walking tragedy. like, allowing herself to exist as something more than just a “person who needs to be saved” - (maybe, allowing herself to think that SHE can the one doing the saving? HMMMMMM?). we could get a maria who lets herself disengage from the constant daydreaming of “life will be great - but only once im cured!” to “life can be great now. i deserve to have a great life, and my disability isn’t mutually exclusive with that.” we could get a maria that accepts that she has nids (shadow accepting the reality of her death) (his alien dna) while allowing herself to grieve the nondisabled life she thought she was going to have (shadow grieving her, always) and allowing that grief to co-occur alongside her worth as a person, her deservedness of being alive and celebrated as she is (his genes don’t change that he deserves to be alive and happy and free of shame) (her death wasn’t his fault, and the ending of her life doesn’t mean he needs to stop living his) to her accepting that she had this disability and it doesn’t make her monstrous or less worthy of life, it doesn’t make her “wrong” (there isn’t a “right” way to exist, his dna doesn’t make him a monster) (grieving her and living a happy life aren’t antithetical to each other, he’s still allowed to proceed with life without pretending like he’s over it)

there’s a long history of disability being used as grounds to devalue, ostracize, pathologize, and infringe upon the autonomy of disabled bodyminds. disabilities are shunned as “pitiful”, or “unfortunate”, or “bad”. sometimes the presence of disabilities is seen as indicative of a person’s wickedness, as if the presence of disability is somehow a clue into the inherent goodness or badness of a person’s soul. disability is seen as antithetical to happiness, and disabled bodyminds are told that the only way to “properly” exist as a disabled person is to be miserable and full of self-loathing. certain disabilities have historically been described with words like “monster” and “freak” - an abomination that never should have been. like, it seems cartoonishly hyperbolic ableism, but this is legit the history of the rhetoric surrounding disability discourse, at least in the western cultural world. disability has historically been talked about like it somehow makes you less of a person. it’s why the disability pride community exists- it’s a deep, powerfully rich collection of bodyminds that routinely organize to fight this very thing. it’s a long tradition of people saying “yeah my life is one of disability - and also my life has value. i deserve love, despite what this ableist world thinks. i deserve all of me to be celebrated, including my disability, because it’s an important part of my life”

and. idk. i think about maria and her nids. and a potential story where she goes, if it weren’t for my diagnosis, i would have never met shadow, gotten to have this friendship, gotten to have this experience. a lot of this sucks, but i wouldn’t change it. i’d keep it as is, tough parts included. i can let go of the anger, of railing against this being my reality - im allowed to have friends and be loved and be happy. i dont have to crystallize my existence around mourning. it doesn’t make me bad or a monster or pathetic. it just is.

like, i wonder if she, as a little 12 year old girl growing up in the 1950s, as a “sick child” isolated on a space station miles away from everyone she loved, ever raged against her diagnosis. ever struggled with it. i wonder if maria, also, had to reckon with her bodily reality, and fought to accept its hard parts without pretending that there weren’t some beautiful and wonderful parts because of it. like if she had to learn how to love herself without viewing her disability as inherently bad.

i wonder if shadow ever realized that his rage was just grief, and his grief was just love, and to let go of his rage, was to acknowledge his grief and return to the terrifying wonder of letting himself love, instead of closing himself off and shutting everyone out. i wonder if shadow lets himself have - if he acknowledges that he wants and loves - his friends, instead of denying it up and down and sourly rejecting any threat of connection.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 30

Alright this is a fuckin big one, for a variety of reasons. One of which being that this is the 30th Day, meaning we've hit another Milestone Piece!

First off, last time I’ll link this here, but if you like this comic and want to see it realized in a slightly more fullfilling way, go check out this fanfic which i posted across October.

Secondly, I’m about to Yap. A lot. So i’m gonna put this all underneath to read because it is a lot, which is to be expected since this is a pretty big piece for the project. And alongside that I wanna talk about the Vampire AU fic.

Okay so “where the fuck did this come from,” you might be wondering. Up till now every pic I had made was sketches with the most color being just the eyes. All of those colored pieces were given that color work long after this one, so what the hell possessed me to make a two page comic.

Well you see. I’m a bit of a fuckin weirdo who completely lacks a concept of self control. And I was starting to really, REALLY get into the idea of Vampire Junkan (No fucking surprise there.) And while I had drawn a few pics involving blood sucking up to that point, I hadn’t drawn their first time doing this, and I am very much into the intimacy that comes with Bloodsucking in the context of vampire yuri. And I can’t imagine their would be anything more intimate than the first time a vampire sucks your blood.

So it spiraled out of control from there, and boom, we have a fuckin two page comic.

Before I start talking about the actual Vampire Fic I should detail that this piece was the pivotal shift in the timeline for this project. Because it was with this one (if I remember right) that this BECAME a project. I had joked about drawing 100 Junkan pics a few times with Val, since by this point I was still drawing these at a crazy speed. As I said in a previous post, from Day 3 to Day 30 I did this all in under 2 fucking weeks, even if they weren’t colored that’s wild pace. 

I’ve never asked her but I wonder what that was like from Val’s perspective, just some random chick on tumblr comes up to you and is like-

“Hello there I like your fanfic, do you want to have Junkan art thrown at you nearly every day for the next 2 weeks???” 

That sounds like a fucking fever dream. And that’s not even considering everything else I would just, send to them for the remainder of the projects production. Some would say I’m built differently, I would say I was built concerningly.

Anyway, so by this point I made the official decision that when I hit 100 Pics, I would start posting them to the public. This eventually would be named The 100 Days of Junkan. So thankyou Vampire Junkan you are somehow vital to this whole thing.

Another thing this comic caused is that it was the trigger for me to just say “Fuck it” and just fully lock in on these pieces. I started doing full color on some of these pieces asI was making them initially rather than going back to color them retroactively, I started putting more effort into the pieces even when they were still just sketches, and as a spoiler, once we hit Day 45 i just drop the pretense that I’m not putting effort into this and every fucking pic is full color. There are literally only two of them I did not color and there was actual artistic intent behind it probably i can’t fucking remember.

Also once we hit Day 45 do we hit the point where I just no longer have pics where I feel like they were a dud. Cause I will admit, while I’m glad ya’ll have been enjoying these I can’t lie and say I don’t see some of the pics posted so far and feel like I’ve wasted some of ya’lls time. This is admittedly influenced by the fact that I know what’s coming up and as a result I know the massive jump in quality we’re gonna hit soon enough (in my opinion at least, i feel like I’m being a pretentious bitch about this).

Anyway so how’re you doin. I hope you were snacking on something while you read this because now I’m going to ramble for an unknown stretch of time about the Vampire Junkan Fic and this comic. I’m so fuckin sorry.

So anyway I’ve said briefly before I think but prior to actually writing the Fic I only had this fucking comic. I had vague ideas around it, but never a setup, an overall plot, nothing. I made this fic solely because I thought this scene would be significantly better written rather than drawn by my hands. 

I would not consider myself much of a writer. I have plenty of experience writing action from years and years ago, however in terms of telling an actual story through just writing, i’m an amateur and only had one small fic to my name, however i’m going to retread ground and go over that in much more detail, much later. I am a funny drawing woman first and my biggest desire in life is to make a webcomic called Happy Trigger. That said, ever since getting into Junkan I have had multiple urges to write stories with them since i cannot justify doing full comics as often as would be required. And one such story is that of a vampire nurse who’s never sucked blood before falling in love with someone who desires to have their blood sucked. 

I did start writing this fic a few months prior to the completion of the project. How many? Who fucking knows, it’s been a long time though.

The original first chapter actually went through a pretty big rewrite, mostly because the way I was interpreting vampires in this fic might have been racist?? Maybe???? I did have friends look it over and they said it could be interpreted as such (though they also said I would probably be fine), and I’m going to be real with you this was back when I was deeply paranoid about everything so hearing that there was even a small chance i might have fucked up like that, while also dealing with a ship which at the time I assumed would get me hated by the community, I just went ahead and rewrote. I couldn’t tell you what the original was like because it’s been a long time and i don’t even know if I have the original file. And I honestly don't think the original details would have really or added or changed much.

I had a relatively thin outline for this in my brain once I started. And said outline got pretty much entirely thrown out the window.

Fun fact, the original plan was for Mikan to just run away because people knew she was a vampire, and part of getting her to open up was Sayaka and Ibuki going public about being Vampires as well. Which would then lead into Junko coming in and then all the rest happening.

Scrapped most of that obviously.

So I just ended up taking the approach of “just write it and hope” which would eventually lead to the outline in my brain that became the whole of this fic. Chapter 3 is when things really solidified for me. It’s also where I decided to include a few more characters, Seiko and Ruruka.

I have wanted to draw art involving Ruruseiko and Junkan for so fucking long. Mikan and Seiko are already a dynamic with a lot of potential despite their lack of interactions in canon, meanwhile Junko and Ruruka I imagine would just fucking hate eachother. Tolerating each other only out of bitch girl solidarity and the fact that their girlfriends are besties. 

Originally they were not going to take such an important role, once again I scrapped planned scenes involving Sayaka and Ibuki alongside Mukuro, this would eventually get redone a LOT and reused for the epilogue as the twist that the two are vampires. (Hi, slightly in the future Jem here, I scrapped the epilogue lol. Couldn't get it to feel right, maybe someday!)

However  just couldn’t think of a way to make it work. And then, I considered the idea of Junko getting her wakeup call from a total bitch who she hates rather than her actual friends. And I fucked with it, and I had fun. 

This was my first time writing Junko in a non-despair context, which was a pretty interesting (and difficult) experience. Equally so this is my first time properly trying to write Mikan, even if it was via the lens of her being a vampire which does switch things up a little. I think if I really thought about it Mikan was the harder one to write for though, I was constantly worried that I might be going a bit too overboard for the tragic aspects of her character whenever they came up.

Another thing cut from the story is that Chihiro was supposed to be genderfluid (which is genuinely just how I headcanon Chihiro) in the fic with Junko making specific note of it during her inner monologue. However as I was looking over the chapters again I got extremely paranoid that I did a horrible job depicting that and opted to keep things ambiguous. Was this the right move? Probably not, but this is just how bad my brain can get when I’m doing things other than drawing.

If you were at all curious "Hey Jem, what was the most stressful chapter to work on?" it was the fuckin Aquarium chapter. Not only was it the one I procrastinated on the most but my confidence in it was at at it's lowest for some reason. Fun fact about that one, Junko really was going to ask Mikan about sucking her blood at the end of the chapter, but I decided to keep things simple with a confession and kissing scene. It didn't really change much beyond a bit of inner monologue stuff.

The entire experience was a constant flip flop of me in two different headspaces. I was either-

“Oh hey this is pretty fun, it’s going well”

Or

“Fuck, shit, fuck am I doing this right? Fuck this is gonna suck, shit dammit, I never wanna write again.”

This is what happens when I don’t say in the lane I’m most comfortable with (drawing), self confidence is liable to just completely plummet at some point. Quite frankly if I did not force myself onto a deadline of getting this fic done before day 30 it would not have been finished, at least not for a drainingly long time. I originally wanted to have the whole fic finished before the event started, but time got away from me and the fic itself ended up being way longer than intended. I think this was supposed to just be 6 chapters at first? And it kinda spiraled out of control from there.

I’m just glad I fucking finally got the idea of this comic onto text, it’s been haunting me for the past 9 months. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that I have a very love-hate relationship with Writing, similar to how I feel with painting. I love having a way to get my ideas out there that isn’t super strenuous for me (imagine if I took this whole story and made it a comic, i’d explode), but where it lacks in physical strain, it makes up for in extreme mental strain due to my self confidence and paranoia issues.

That said I likely will write again, the results generally end up outweighing the hellish process, and people seem to like it despite my worries. And I just have far too many ideas and not all of them can be done justice with art alone.

I’ve got a few potential One-shots left that are set in the Vampire AU, one of which i’ll probably write soon. I’ve also got the Cybertron AU that’s been my head for a good bit now which will probably be my next big writing project. I’ve got a few storylines and ideas based on future pieces of this project, and even an idea kicking around from a recent pic I did which I likely won’t execute because I don’t think in a million years I could do the idea justice.

And I also wanna do fics for other ships, like Ruruseiko or Mikuzono (Mukuro x Ibuki x Sayaka). And even outside of Danganronpa I wanna do Flarelu, since I’m a huge Fairy Tail fan and that’s my favorite ship from the series. Imagine if Mikan’s hair was even more skrunkly, and instead  of having an extremely high body count, Junko was just a very friendly girlfailure. There’s like, nothing for that ship, so I’d like to do something like what I’ve been doing for Junkan . . . Y’know just maybe a bit less excessive.

And I've posted them before, but if you'd like to read the fics that inspired the entire Vampire AU . . .

Chapter 10 of Soft (But Only for Her) by Kayleen756894

She Hits Like Ecstasy by VanadisValentine

Check out the rest of their stuff too!~

Anyway, sorry for killing your time with my incessant rambling! But I had thoughts from my brain which I wanted to get out since this is another milestone.

Your kind words are appreciated!~

[tinytalkingtina]

Not a "Big Deal"

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild kinktober day 21 prompt "ride" Rating: E (18+ only please) | ~1.3k words | Ao3 link

A sequel to Not Your "Cute Little Button" from day 10 (either can be read as a standalone though, just wanted to give these two a chance to let Eddie top in the micropenis AU <3)

Tags: Steve/Eddie, Eddie has a micropenis, mutual insecurities, blow job, fluff/smut/comfort, anal sex, Top Eddie/Bottom Steve, Steve's oral fixation continues to be happily fulfilled, modern AU, bisexual Eddie and Steve (it's not brought up in this one but I want it to be known lol), no feminization, the boys fall hard for one another

Many thanks to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the divider!

Eddie stared at the box of condoms, half expecting it to explode at any moment. The packaging claimed they were good for a “snug fit.” As if that would preserve his dignity for being too small to buy normal sizes. Belatedly, he realized Steve had continued talking after he had walked in and slapped the incriminating object onto the counter like it was nothing:

“I figured the kind I usually use probably wouldn't fit on you so uh, I got these? The lady at the store said they'd work fine unless you were super thick.” Of course Steve would have no problem asking someone what to buy for a tiny dick.

“You…you really want me on top?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded eagerly.

“Are you sure? It's okay if you don’t, it might not feel super good if I can't reach your prostate and you should feel good, it takes two to tango after all, right? Not that I'm saying I don't want to, because holy shit, you have a ‘well-turned ass’ as a French peasant would say, or maybe they wouldn't say that because it's too lustful and the Church of course—”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted his ramblings before he could launch into a wildly off-topic tangent about medieval Catholic guilt. “Weren't you just saying last week that the rim is a, what's the word, erroneous zone?"

“Erogenous,” Eddie wheezed, his face bright red.

Steve snapped his fingers.

“Oh yeah that's it, erogenous! When you do that thing with your tongue I see fucking stars man, so why wouldn't your dick feel the same? Don’t think we’re gonna have a problem though. Your fingers are shorter, and they've definitely managed to reach my prostate. If the play ends up not working then we'll regroup and try out another one, yeah? Change up the position.”

Eddie squinted at his boyfriend.

“Are you trying to give me a pep talk like this is the championship ball game and I'm the next guy up at bat to make free throws?”

“First of all, you know they’re called home runs, you came to two games when my kids made the playoffs, and second of all I don't know what you're talking about,” Steve said, like a lying liar. "It's working on you though, isn't it?"

“…A little.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a confident smirk, and G-d, Eddie had never been more attracted to the man. “Get undressed already so I can blow you first. Want you to last if I'm gonna ride.”

He eagerly followed him to the bedroom, leaving shed clothes in their wake without a second thought. Two months of dating and Steve lavishing compliments on him any chance he got meant that Eddie's instinctive self-consciousness about someone seeing him nude was finally giving up the ghost.

After one enthusiastic blow job—holy shit did his boyfriend love having something in his mouth when there was no risk of gagging—Eddie was rather proud of the valiantly quick rally on the part of his dick, eager to get to the main event of the afternoon. 

Steve pushed him onto his back against the pillows. Impatiently, he rolled the condom down and slathered on some lube before straddling Eddie’s legs. They both moaned as Steve slowly lowered himself, relaxing quickly.

A whispered “fuck!” escaped his mouth as he bottomed out and without pause began to frantically bounce straight up and down.

“Feels okay sweetheart?” Eddie had to check, even if another part of him continued to thrust in time to match Steve’s movements.

“Yes. See, I ohhh, told you so,” he said breathlessly, giggling when Eddie stuck out his tongue in retaliation. Steve was so beautiful like this, lit up in gold by the setting sun, chasing his pleasure with abandon.

As his boyfriend rode him ever faster, Eddie had to concentrate on not coming for a second time so soon. He grabbed Steve’s hips when he finally lost his balance and collapsed onto his chest, stomach muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself upright for so long.

The movement was too much though, and Eddie felt himself slip out enough for Steve to whine in protest.

“Shit, lost it,” he said, desperately trying to find his prostate again from this angle, but it was no use like this. The bitter voice at the back of his head got louder and more insistent the longer he took. Steve was going to leave him now, he couldn’t satisfy him. He’d be nice about it probably, let him pick up the things he’d left in his apartment but—

“Eddie?” A hand to his face shook him out of the spiral. “Do you wanna stop?” Steve’s thumb brushed his cheek and came back wet.

“N-no but I’m so s-sorry, I can’t make you feel good.” Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and stilled his hips. “I can blow you or eat you out, whatever you want, just let me get rid of the condom and—.”

He let out a yelp when Steve suddenly flipped them over without pulling off, and locked his legs behind Eddie’s back.

“If you don’t want to stop, can you tell your brain to shut up? Told you we might just need to change the position.” He huffed out. “Come on, what I want is for your abs to get a workout instead of mine now.”

It took a few seconds for Eddie to process what Steve had said. But another bitchy demand had him get with the program. He hitched Steve’s legs higher over his shoulders before grinding down. Better able to move like this, it wasn’t long before:

“Yes, there, right there, please don’t stop!” Steve writhed underneath him, openly moaning as his hand drifted closer to his dick, where it slapped against his stomach with every thrust.

“There you go,” Eddie panted. “So gorgeous, so good for me.”

Steve moaned louder and looked up at him with pleading eyes. His lips, still slightly puffy from the earlier blow job were so inviting. Eddie gave into his impulses and stuck a couple fingers into Steve’s mouth. His boyfriend sucked them down and hummed happily. The sight had Eddie careening straight towards an orgasm. He just barely managed to hold it off while babbling:

“There you go, just needed to be filled up on both ends huh?” Steve frantically nodded. “That’s good sweetheart, take what you need, you’re so tight around me holy shit.”

It didn’t take much more encouragement for Steve to finally stiffen and come. Squeezed from all sides, Eddie pretty soon followed him over the edge.

Later, after they’d wiped themselves off and changed into clean clothes, Steve curled up in his arms like a giant contented house cat. Eddie considered letting three words slip from his lips, ones that he hadn’t quite worked up the guts to let out just yet.

“Thank you,” he settled for instead. “You’re kind of a mensch when it comes to dealing with my shit, you know that right?”

Steve didn’t open his eyes, just nuzzled further into his neck as he snorted. “I’ve dealt with worse shit than yours. ‘sides, it’s worth it, you make me happy. I'm gonna start yelling at your brain to fuck off with the bullying,” he continued. “Not too good to fight it to get the point across for someone I lo-like. Someone I like a lot.”

Steve heartbeat plucked out a staccato rhythm against his chest from his slip-up.

Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead and held him tighter, hoping it conveyed the intended meaning. Someday soon, he’d find the courage. 

Because Steve was worth it too.

Author's Notes, aka some irrelevant G-rated world building for this AU: -Steve is an activity coordinator at the local YMCA and coaches Little League. His team didn't win the playoffs that year, but they were very excited to be there! -Eddie is a session musician. Wayne has a display of the albums he's appeared on in his trailer, right under the mug collection.