#i mean this in the way that i’m going to ingrain it into my personality for the next week just like i did for pmgitg

[lilgynt]

i am like wildly overestimating how well i could defend myself with like no self defense training with or without weapons on my person but id prefer that over thinking i cant like. build up enough strength to overpower someone or be scared to go to places alone

[writingwarden]

Today is a perfect day to read Pattern Breaker, Put my Guns In The Ground, and Kaleidoscope.

All in one night!

[soleilapproves]

you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.

Notes: gender neutral reader

main masterlist

It all started on a Monday morning.

You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.

You’ve been waiting for him to explicitly say how he feels but he’s chickened out way too many times. So as revenge, you played mind games with him. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t satisfying to see his shocked expression.

“Satoru, before you leave-“ you skipped to him before he could grab the door handle, and grabbed his arm to turn him towards you.

“-don’t forget this.” You pulled his tie down and kissed his forehead.

The white haired man’s eyebrows reached high enough to almost touch his hairline. “Wha-“

You pushed him out before he could utter another word. “Bye, you’ll be late!”

Soon after that fateful morning, you’d kiss his forehead before work. It became so ingrained in both your routines that he’d simply walk up to you while you were making breakfast and you’d slip him a quick peck.

You almost conditioned yourself to it too. Whenever Satoru would move his hair away from his forehead, your mind would automatically make you lean in towards him. It confused him the first couple times you did it and then you caught yourself on after that. You were the one playing mind games. Not him.

It had been three weeks of giving him forehead kisses when you decided to stop the action.

Your morning started the same way as it always did- you woke up, showered, made your coffee, and then sat down to eat your breakfast. However, it was the opposite for Satoru. He had slept late the night before and woke up with only fifteen minutes to get ready so to say that the apartment looked like it was hit by a hurricane was an understatement.

You saw a flash of white go towards the fridge as you calmly stirred the berries in your oatmeal. “Huh, I was wondering if you had taken the day off.”

“I didn’t. My manager gave me some intern’s report last minute and I had to correct the whole thing. I was up until three am.” You felt bad over how he was rushing to spread jam on his toast so you pulled out a tumbler and began to prepare his coffee as he liked it (so sweet that a hypoglycemic person could be cured).

You could see the effects of sleep deprivation on him- tie crooked, bag half-zipped, shirt tucked out of his slacks and of course, crumbs of bread all of his face. The man looked like a walking mess.

You walked him to the door, handing his tumbler over to him and muttering a small ‘goodbye’ as he shoved his feet in his black leather loafers.

You were about to close the door on him when he stopped you. “Did you forget something?” You innocently asked as you leaned your head to the side while folding your arms.

“No, you did.” He haphazardly moved his hair away from the center of his forehead and pointed at it.

“Why are you doing that?” You wanted to laugh at him so bad but you pinched your arm to prevent it. “What do you mean? You always kiss my forehead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes, I’m way too used to it!” You almost jolted at his urgency. The man was clearly yearning for a forehead kiss.

“But why? It’s weird- only couples do something like that. I don’t know why I did it in the first place.”

“Wow, NOW you care if it’s something couples do?”

Gojo sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “Look, I’m really late right now and I don’t have time to explain myself. All I’m gonna say is this- you, me, date at seven tonight. And you best believe I won’t be late for that. Now give me my kiss.”

Your face was flushed after his sudden boldness and you quickly leaned in to press your lips against his sweaty forehead (you had worked him up with your little prank). “I’ll be waiting.” You grinned.

And he had walked right into your trap.

Gojo scoffed at you before closing the door with a small slam. You began jumping as soon as he was out of your vision but your celebration was soon stopped when the door opened

“What now?” You groaned.

The man simply pulled you towards him by your elbow and left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “This.”

—

Trust me when I say that playing mind games like this is a lot of fun. My ex situationship can’t listen to Childish Gambino without thinking of me 🙏

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

𝟿.𝟼𝙺 𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝

2.9K

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 1 | 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 2

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

⚠️ spoilers in the warnings ⚠️

swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader's room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader's private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn't ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓶𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮

Rafe’s POV:

I step out onto the porch, goosebumps flaring across my skin, but I’m still white-hot with adrenaline from the fight. I feel the warm ooze roll down my chin, catching the blood on my palm fast before it drips onto my shirt. I look down at my wrist. 2 a.m… My heart falls as I see my knuckles bloodied and bruised, but I can’t feel it; it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I do that shit again for her in a heartbeat. I take a deep breath, rubbing my hand on my jeans as my thoughts return to her.

My gaze sweeps over the yard, girl after girl, but not mine. I look toward the sorority, watching a pair of sisters walk inside for the night. Maybe someone in there knows where she is.

I move down the stairs fast, walking toward the sorority that I had tried to slip into during the car wash to no avail. I keep my head low, focusing on the task at hand. Anticipation bubbles in my chest as the world lightens around me. The sorority’s fully lit now in the dim night. I’ve been here more times than I can count. But this time is different. I feel alive.

My pulse spikes as I see Cassie walk inside, too. I nod, trying to think of a plan to get in. Walking into the sorority without a sister would look weird as fuck. It would raise all the red flags. I fall back, watching her pass through the door and climb up the grand staircase before the door fans shut.

I take advantage of the moment, quickly trotting up the steps, yanking the door open before it can shut all the way, my eyes darting around the entryway before turning down the hall. I move deeper and deeper into the sorority, disappearing into her space. Looking down the hallway, I see the door – her door– just barely cracked open. I feel my stomach twist in excitement as I grow closer to her. Shutting my eyes, I breathe deeply, taking in her muted scent. It’s still so new to me, but I feel like it’s been long ingrained in my mind.

I glance through the crack in the door. Empty… My fingers curl around the cool metal handle, and for a moment, I hesitate. But I can’t wait. The faint smell of her perfume grows as I push open the door. I move cautiously through the space, taking little mental pictures of everything I see.

The personal touches—photos that weren’t on her Instagram, her favorite books stacked on her desk, a fuzzy blanket strewn on her bed. It feels so intimate… and it is.

Her dresser. The top drawer… Start there, I tell myself, work down. I know what I want. I pull it open, hitting the jackpot – delicate lace, silk, and cozy cotton panties – all of which have graced her perfect body. I snag a pair of black lace panties, stuffing them in the back pocket of my jeans. Don’t get greedy, Rafe.

I look to the side of the dresser, suddenly seeing her hamper, making my heart skip a beat. A slow grin breaches my face. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better.

I lift the lid, pulling back a sweatshirt, spotting pink mesh. Picking them out, I study them, trying to find traces of her. My eyes roll back as I see just that. I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, thinking about how I’ll ruin these later. One hand thumbing through her pictures, the other stroking my dick. I lift the material to my nose, eyes shut, drawing a deep breath, snorting my girl like a line.

My eyes flutter open, head dizzy, eyes landing on her perfectly made bed. My rough fingers run along the comforter, studying where she sleeps, picturing her hair fanned out on the pillow and her glossy lips formed in the perfect sleepy pout. My eyes fall to her nightstand. I grin to myself. If it was anything like mine, I was in for a treat.

I wrap my fingers around the handle, my hand shaking with adrenaline as I open the small drawer. My eyes dart around the contents. Nothin’ crazy, just a few magazines. Lip gloss. I pick it out of the drawer, adding it to my itinerary for the night. M’gonna cum in this shit… Sneak it back in here, watch her walk into class with that glossy smile, just knowing she’s laced with me. I pull the magazines aside, my heart clanging in my ears as I see three nude Polaroids and a pink rabbit vibrator.

I bury my head in my hands, unable to cope with the sight before me. I quickly fight my phone out of my pocket, snapping a few pictures of the snapshots before taking her toy in my fist. I turn it, watching the sparkles glint in the light. Laying my tongue flat, I glide it nice and slow, not once but twice, my aching cock pressing against my zipper, twitching with each flick on my tongue, just trying to catch a hint of her taste.

I hear the sound of her angelic voice floating towards the door. Holy shit… I stuff everything back in the dresser hastily. My stomach twists in tight knots at the thought of her walking in seeing me in her room uninvited.

Billy’s right. She doesn’t know me. Not well, anyway. Not well enough to be in her room waiting. I look toward the window for my escape, but there’s not enough time. Her footsteps grow closer with each passing moment. I quickly step towards her closet, looking back at the window one last time, trying to weigh my options. It’s cracked… Of course, it is. I could still make it. Yet, there’s this undeniable urge to stay… I internally battle myself for a moment longer. Fuck it. I slip into the closet, pulling the door shut, pinching my eyes closed with it.

Every second feels like an eternity. I curse myself, thinking back to my earlier moments of panic. No way I put everything back where she left it… I surely slipped up. What if she feels something’s off, notices that faint change in the air, and finds me in her closet? What the fuck am I doing?

I watch her shadow shift under the closet door. Changing direction slightly, I peer out, careful not to rustle any hangers and give myself away, but I can’t help myself. Not when it comes to her. The temptation to watch her is damn near impossible. I’ve lost myself completely. Right when I’m about to fall out of sight, I hear her zipper pull. My mind screams for my body to look away, but my eyes disobey, wanting to see her bare. I watch her dress pool around her feet. My breath hitches in my throat from the sight in front of me. Lingerie… That was meant to be seen by someone. That photo of her at the car wash…No question this show was meant for him and not me.

Her hands lift to her chest, back still turned to me. She pops open the eyelets of her corset one by one. Teasing me unknowingly, the universe punishing me for being here, hiding away in the shadows like a freak. She pulls the delicate material off her body, tossing it in the hamper I had opened moments before… The stolen items feel like a weight in my pocket. I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t notice they’re gone. She doesn’t. She closes it before snagging an oversized t-shirt from a drawer. My eyes fall down her perfect body, her curves, the silhouette of my girl, sheer perfection—made for me and me alone.

She walks toward the bed, pulling back the covers before crawling inside. The soft glow of her TV illuminates her face, casting the most beautiful shadows across her perfect features. Her eyes look heavy, just minutes away from shutting for the night. I can’t help but worry about her. Why is she so tired? Why is she stayin’ up still? She needs to sleep. I know it’s not smart to stay, fuck, it wasn’t sane to do this shit in the first place, but I’m not ready to leave.

My breath catches itself in my chest as she smiles down at her phone, beautiful and genuine, making my racing heart skip a beat. What are you smiling at, pretty girl? She giggles quietly—soft and angelic. She mumbles something to herself I can’t quite catch. I move closer to the slight space between the door, turning my ear to hear anything. “… so cute,” she coos. My heart swells in my chest, and I imagine her saying that to me. God, I need her so fucking bad. She just met me… No way she was thinkin’ about me. Maybe Billy… Anyone but him.

“…Rafe Cameron,” she flirts, almost like she’s speaking directly to me as she stares at something on her phone.

I fight with the urge to grab the door and step out. I’ve got no self-control and so much to lose. I stand frozen in the closet, my fingers sliding along the door, getting closer and closer to the edge. I pull my hand back at the last possible moment, settling on watching her fall asleep instead.

“You can come out now,” her voice cuts through the quiet, all the blood pumping in my head draining in a moment.

I'm hearin’ shit. I gotta be. I peer out, met with a set of gorgeous, curious eyes. Was she amused? Angry? She doesn’t look scared… The world stopped moving. Or maybe it was just my heart that stopped.

”Rafe,” she says my name, tugging at my heartstrings. I stand there in disbelief, mind racing, body pulling in all directions, wanting to fall back into the place where I felt in control.

I push open the door, breathing shakily, rustling the hangers I’d tried to silence before. My body feels heavy and awkward. I draw a deep breath, trying to think of how to explain myself, but nothing comes out. Everything is overwhelming– my emotions, her gaze, the moment.

“You’ve been following me,” her voice floats out. This should fucking terrify her, but it doesn’t. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to stay present, but my mind reels. “I saw you at the car wash, Rafe. Watched you on the sorority Ring camera trying to sneak in while I was out.” She giggles. “That was cute, by the way,” she teases. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Just how much had she seen?

“You were looking for me all night, Rafe. It would have been so much easier to find me if you would have just asked for my number,” she sighs. I swallow hard, clearing the lump in my throat as I try to gain my composure and say anything. “I watched you fight Billy for me at the party earlier. All for me..” She gives me a flirty smile, not at all horrified about the beating or the blood, more focused on the sentiment behind it. I wanted to deny it all but at the same time…I don’t. Does she like it?

“I’ve seen everything…” Her head tilts slightly, eyes staring straight into my soul. “You act like you own me, Rafe.” Those words leaving her lips hit me like a blow to the chest. “I think we’re kinda similar, you and I…”

I pinch my eyebrows in confusion, thinking back to her texts with Billy. “What about Billy?” I croak out dumbly, making her laugh warmly.

“He was just a part of the plan,” she smiles. “Someone who would wrong you; someone that would test you. Someone disloyal who wouldn’t stop unless you made him. And, he didn’t stop, did he?”

“He didn’t,” I mumble drunkenly, hearing her words echoing in my ears. She planned all this, using my emotions and obsession to draw me in.

She shrugs. “Loyalty is hard to find.”

Billy was just a pawn to get to me? She wanted to be seen by me tonight just as badly as I wanted to be seen by her, and she’s wanted it for a while.

“I’m loyal.” I nod desperately. “I’ll do anything for you,” my voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll worship you… That’s what you want, yeah?” I crawl on the foot of her bed, moving closer and closer as she lures me with her stare. I tilt in close, holding my breath, lips hovering mere inches from her. The air between us is charged. My heart is pounding so loudly that I’m sure she can hear it.

Her hands come up to cup my bruised cheeks, grounding me; drawing me in even deeper.

"I'm gonna take care of you, Rafe," she whispers, her voice syrupy sweet. "I've been watching you for weeks. I know everything you need– everything you want."

My body trembles, unable to cope with the emotions, shattering them all when my lips crash into hers. The kiss is deep and longing, fierce and possessive, almost animalistic, as I pull her as close as possible. “M’Yours,” I mumble between kisses, needing her to hear it. I feel her smile against my lips before she pulls back enough to let me see her eyes. Her addictive stare’s beautiful, laced with something dark and dangerous.

“I’m yours,” she smiles. Before I can respond, she reaches down to the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it off her body. My eyes widened, and my hands draw to her flesh like magnets. “I’m so wet, Rafe,” she whispers like she’s telling me a secret.

“Are you gonna let me taste you, princess?”

Her hands brush through my hair, her brow cocking teasingly. “Didn’t you already?” My stomach flutters at her words, realizing that when she said ‘she saw everything,’ she meant it.

“I want more,” I respond hungrily. I push her back into the pillows—tearing my shirt off my shoulders. Her breathing hitches, lip caught between her bottom teeth as her eyes fall down my body, working me out of my belt. The sparkle in her eyes lets me know this isn’t a want but a need.

I pull myself out of my jeans, tossing them to the side, before moving away from her soft lips, settling between her plush thighs. I kiss along her silky skin, breathing in the scent of her, bathing in it, peeling off her panties before pressing her thighs wide to get some more.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” I eye the mess between her legs, licking my lips hungrily. Her fingers drift into my fringe, twisting in my strands, using her hold to draw me closer. I swipe my finger up her slit making her moan, her hips lifting when I pull away, gliding her essence along my tongue.

“Please,” she whimpers. Her lips push in a pout, falling into a soft ‘o’ as my rough fingers spiral on her throbbing clit. She throws her head back into her pillow, hair fanning out just like I imagined it, even more perfect than I could’ve dreamed.

I slip a finger inside, then two, then three. Saving the best for last as my lips press against her pearl, sucking down, making her cry out in pleasure. “Fuck, daddy.” The name throws me over the edge; I start rutting and grinding into the mattress, matching my thrust, my pleasure building with hers.

“Cum for me, pretty. Let me have it,” I mumble against her cunt, watching goosebumps spread across her thighs at the heat of my words.

My body trembles as she grabs fistfuls of sheets, chanting my name like a prayer, and she cums long and hard with me. I feel my sticky load coat my boxers, the wet material clinging to my throbbing dick. I bury myself in her pussy, drowning in her arousal, huffing in her scent just like I was before, suckling and coating my tongue with her release.

Her hands reach down, pulling at my hair just like she was before, too breathless to plead for my lips. She licks her slick off my chin before plunging her tongue in my mouth, rolling effortlessly with mine, my mind-hazy, pussy-drunk off her taste.

“You came, didn’t you?” She whispers against my lips. Her vulgar words coming out angelic. She reaches her hand between us, cupping my cock, answering her own question as my warm cum transfers to her palm through the cotton. She lifts her hand, running it along her tongue with a smile.

“How did you know?”

”I’ve watched you do that a few times, baby.” She grabs my shoulders, coaching me to my back before she straddles my lap. She grinds her drenched cunt against my boxers, making me groan from the overstimulation, but she’s just trying to work her climax into mine.

She crawls off, slotting herself between my thighs, sucking my spent through the tight material. Every muscle in my body clenches tight. She strokes me over my boxers, rubbing her pretty lips all over me. I pinch the elastic band at my hips impatiently, needing her lips around my dick more than I’ve needed anything else.

She watches hungrily as my hard cock springs out, slapping against my body. Her slight fingers wrap around my dick, making my toes curl. She throats my cock again and again, moaning around my thick length, gagging like a goddamn porn star. My personal porn star. “Co’mere,” I mutter, right on the edge of cumming again, and before I can even ask if she wants to fuck she’s sliding down my dick, nails digging into my chest. She lets out a little gasp as my thumb presses against her clit, rubbing messy circles on top.

“Holy shit-”

“So fucking good,” I finish her sentence, which gets caught up in a moan as she throws her head back. Y/n bounces on my cock, chasing her climax; her perfect ass clapping against my skin as her pussy swallows me up again and again. I reach out, gripping her hips, lifting her slightly to fuck up into her, heels digging into her soft mattress as leverage. “Just like that, Rafe,” she cries.

“Yeah? You like that shit?” I pant. “Flood my cock, baby. Make a fuckin’ mess. C’mon.” And just like a good girl, she does. Gushing around my dick, wetting my thighs and the blanket below, making me cum right behind her, spill into her guts, my girl milking every last drop. She collapses on my chest, lips pushing against mine. Her taste and mind swirl together as our tongues intertwine.

KNOCK.

Both of our heads snap to the window, catching the faintest tap from outside, too caught in the moment to even shut the blinds in the first place. I pull her close, wrapping my big body around her, shielding her from the gaze from the other side of the glass. Billy—beaten and bloody. Almost unrecognizable from our fight. He looks back at the two of us, crushed and broken.

I glance back up at my girl, a smile painted across her kiss-bitten lips, twisted and mocking like this was the final piece of her puzzle that she just set in place. She grabs the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her bare figure before stepping onto the hardwood floor. She leans down, kissing my lips, lingering for a moment before kissing me again.

I watch her carefully as she steps toward the window, eyes locked on Billy's. She lifts her delicate hand, waving at him sweetly—down-right condescending. The movement is casual, unbothered, and full of unspoken dominance over both him and me. She raises her hand, pushing the blinds shut before turning toward me, sending chills down my spine.

Fuck…

This is love.

tags (tag list is on my pinned post. If your name is crossed out your tag isn't working💕) @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @xoxohoneymoongirl

[zuzu-draws]

So after the spoilers for Chap 257 dropped, I saw some tweets clarifying the meaning of the Kanji Sukuna used in the chapter when referring to his mother, and the overall reveals in the chapter got me thinking.

I’m making this post as a way of gathering my thoughts, personal speculations and where I think all of this connects to Sukuna’s character and the information Gege has given us over the years. Nothing I say is by any means new information, but like I said, I’m just collecting my thoughts here. By the way, just a warning, this post contains SPOILERS for the JJK Manga! If you don’t like that, please don’t read this!

Something I’ve noticed is that the theme of “Hunger” and symbolism of “Cooking/Food” is heavily referenced with Sukuna throughout the Manga. Gege in a previous Fanbook has disclosed Sukuna’s favorite Hobby to be “Eating”.

This theme is again very much ingrained within Sukuna’s cursed techniques and even his Domain Expansion, the “Malevolent Shrine”. With his two main techniques being “Dismantle” and “Cleave” are cutting-type attacks. He is also able to use a Flame-Arrow, and Fire is essential for making Food. The Shrine in his Domain Expansion literally has mouths on all sides, looking eager to chew down anything in-front of them!

This symbolism also heavily influences Sukuna’s own manner of speech, and the way he speaks to other characters in the series as well. With his post-fight chat with Jogo before his death, Sukuna mentions Jogo lacking the “Hunger” to take control of his desires, preventing him from reaching the heights of Gojo Satoru. Before the Start of their fight in Shinjuku, Sukuna called Gojo a “Nameless Fish on top of his cutting board”, and that he was going to start by “Peeling off the scales”(refering to Gojo’s infinity). There’s also further symbolism that supports this by analyzing the Kanji and meaning of Sukuna’s “Malevolent Shrine” but I’m not very educated on that so I won’t be opening that point here.

What all of this points to is that Eating and Food……is extremely important to Sukuna, to the point that it literally affects him in manners innumerable.

Eating is an instinct, a necessity for the survival of every single living being.

And In the face of extreme Hunger and starvation, even those with the strongest will could lose their Humanity and revert to the basic animalistic side of their existence. (The Heian Period also had a Famine, although I believe the timing to be a bit off, but do with this info as you see fit)

In JJK Chapter 257, it is revealed to us that Sukuna and his Twin were most likely starving in the womb of their starving mother.

On the brink of starvation, Sukuna had to consume his “other self”(his twin), so that he could survive.

Btw, this tweet and this thread gives additional characterisation to Sukuna:

Link to the original thread: Link.

More context (and reactions :P):

Link to original thread: Here

This reveals to us that indeed, Sukuna was born a twin. And as we all know, “Twins” are seen with extreme scrutiny in Jujutsu Society, they’re not well liked. This too in a period where Cursed Spirits and Jujutsu Sorcery was at its peak, it is not far-fetched to assume that his Mother may not have been treated very well by the people in her surroundings, especially as she bore twins.

When Kashimo asks if Sukuna was born the Strongest or if he made himself the Strongest, this is the response Sukuna gave to him:

When you think about it, how do you think the people around them would have reacted when the woman: who was supposed to birth two twins, gave birth to a single child instead? and that child had consumed his other twin in the womb itself?

No doubt people would’ve been horrified, disgusted and even revulsed. With the woman and her newborn child.

This would’ve led to their further ostracisation in the already very close-minded society. Unable to fend for herself and her newborn child, it must’ve been difficult for Sukuna’s mother to survive. I feel like somewhere along the line, Sukuna was left alone to fend for himself at an extremely young age. To protect himself from both Curses and Society alike.

This is why I believe Sukuna knows what true starvation, weakness and hunger feels like. Both in the emotional and literal sense. He was left without another person caring about him or his well-being, in a cut-throat period where it was “Fight or be killed”.

Powerful curses roamed all across Japan, nowhere was safe. Simply be strong, or you'll die. There's no room for weakness. And initially, a kid!Sukuna was weak, as anyone would be in the beginning when they're just starting out in this world. (and maybe, he didn't have much to eat, leading to long periods of starvation? :') )

I believe it is this debilitating hunger, and feeling of weakness that eventually led to Sukuna’s current Hedonistic mindset.

He’s essentially traumatised by it, and believes that it was his own weakness that led him to experience this sheer starvation. That he deserved to feel this way because he was weak then. Perhaps, the people around him were right, that as long as they have the power and strength to overcome anything, they’re free to do as they please; And there is nothing anyone else could do about it.

I feel like the irony here is that Sukuna himself, must’ve been a “weakling” before eventually rising the ranks to become History’s Strongest Sorcerer. This is also why he values Strength so much.

Ultimately, Sukuna has decided that there was nothing more important than being strong enough to fulfill your own desires. And “eating” is one of his most important desires. It’s his favourite thing to do, the one he derives the most pleasure out of. And like an animal, whose main focus is to consume, consume and consume. He too, simply consumes.

Most morals likely have no meaning to him. He doesn’t care who he hurts, what he does, as long as he’s able to get what he wants. And this isn’t limited to eating.

This is why people referring to Sukuna as a “Natural Disaster” is so befitting of him. Because Natural Disasters also don’t care about what or who they’re destroying, they just come and go, wreaking havoc appropriate for their nature and magnitude.

I believe Sukuna himself has said lines similar in nature, when talking to Kashimo:

Now I’m not sure how Sukuna perceives or even experiences this “Love”, because I think he has a rather very warped idea of it. I do think that this definition of love is similar to the one that Gojo also understands, but I don’t think he knows what “love” truly is. I’m not sure how I could comment on this, but I do think that Sukuna’s emotionally starved, whether he realises that or not.

Because, like Kashimo himself asked Sukuna “What is the point of dividing your soul into 20 different parts and then traversing across time if you’re satisfied with this?” we do not know the answer to that yet.

But many people have speculated that “Black Box” panels in JJK manga represent a curse (either self-inflicted or put by someone) on the speaker. Like, take a look over here where Sukuna reiterates the same dialogue, except it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself:

This once again shows that Sukuna has only ever strived for himself, in the same hedonistic fashion, to a very very extreme degree. It is possible that he's been lacking something, and he himself does not realise that he’s lacking it. Maybe it was this subconscious feeling, that led to Sukuna agreeing to Kenjaku’s plan of dividing his soul into 20 different parts, and to traverse across time as a Cursed Object.

Sukuna’s an incredibly complex character, and I’m excited to see where this goes. Gege has put extra care in the way he characterizes and depicts Sukuna, and again, I’m really sad that a lot of that characterization gets lost in translation. Still, I’m going to try my best to understand and get the most accurate feel of his character as I possibly can.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading! And if you would like, please do leave a comment in the tags or replies because I would love to read what other people think of this and just Sukuna in general. I do not see a lot of people doing critical analysis of him, and a lot of his actions are seemingly swept under the rug. I don’t like that, so hopefully this contributes to people focusing more on Sukuna and his character. (/^v^)/ <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Are you sure you want to keep working?” You ask Mr. Rogers as you bring in the printed report he requested. 

“Yeah, can’t really go home...” he mutters as he takes the report with a brittle smile. 

“I guess, but you could... take some time for yourself. I can call your one o’clock,” you offer. 

“Rosie, you’re wonderful. But I need the distraction.” 

“Okay, I—can I get you anything? A tea? When I feel down, I have this lavender chamomile in my desk that helps me feel better.” 

He looks at you, his blue eyes sparkling. You really can’t handle him crying. His eyes are already pink and puffy from the tears he hid in his closed office. 

“You’re so sweet,” he sniffs. 

“Look that over and I’ll steep the tea,” you insist. 

You leave him before your ingrained sympathy can have you joining his pity party. You feel awful for him but lost too. You’re not sure how to handle all this. Relationships have always been a bit of a mystery to you. You have lot of friends but never found anyone to be more than. 

You take your time in the break room. You smell like vinaigrette. It’s another reminder of the chaotic morning. The kettle pops and you pour the water over the tea bag. You bob it up and down with the string and make your way back to Mr. Roger’s office. 

He thanks you as you set it down and warn him it’s hot. He runs his thumb up and down the edge of a page then looks up at you.  

“Anything else, sir?” 

“You... you said you feel down sometimes?” He asks. 

“Oh, well, yeah, but everyone does.” 

“But... about what? Why would you feel down?” He lowers the stapled papers onto the desk. 

“Just... things, sir. Nothing big. It’s just the way people are.” 

“You-- you have everything, Rosie. You’re so bright and bubbly. What could make you sad?” He pivots his chair towards you. “Who do I gotta give a talking to around here?” 

“No one, sir. Really. I guess I just need a pick-me-up from time to time.” 

He nods and looks down. You hover on the other side of his desk. You should get back to work but you don’t know if you should leave him. 

“I get lonely too.” He lifts his chin up. “Even when Peggy’s right next to me. I get it.” 

“Sir?” 

“You said you’re not married, right? I—I'm sorry if I assumed--” he cringes. “Wow, I’m so embarrassing.” 

“It’s... it’s fine. I have friends and we have lots of fun. My friend Missie, she’s really cool. She lies to tie-dye. We do that sometimes. And you,” you perk up, “you have Mr. Barnes, right? He told me that you twohave known each other forever.” 

“He told you that?” Rogers tilts his head. 

“Well, sure, he’s a bit chatty when he stops by.” 

“He is?” A brow arches curiously and ripples his forehead. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re so easy to talk to. Even with someone like him.” 

“Erm, I guess. I just try to see the positive. You know. Um, I don’t mean to presume because I can’t begin to know but I know Peggy loves you. And you have a good job and you can fix this, Mr. Rogers. You could try counselling or I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know much,” you shrug. 

“We did counselling,” he picks up the mug and blows the steam away, inhaling the scent. “She stormed out of that too. We’ve tried a lot of things. A second honeymoon, a vow renewal, everything.” He looks down and his shoulders slump. He looks tiny even though he’s a big man. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to overstep.” 

“You didn’t,” he inhales and pushes his shoulders straight. “You’re right, I can do something. I can put myself first. I think... I think I need to look into leaving.” 

You blink. You’re speechless. It feels like too much. Not his suggestion, just that he’s saying it to you. You’re fine getting him coffee and sorting his schedule but you haven’t been trained for this. 

“You should do what’s best for you, sir.” 

He nods and tastes the tea. “It’s good, Rose,” He sets the cup down. “Thanks. You’re... you’re too good to me.” 

“It’s just tea. I’ll let you enjoy it in peace and I gotta get back to it.” You smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Will do,” he utters glumly. 

You slowly turn away and stride out. You feel a tugging in your stomach. Like guilt. You feel bad leaving him like that. Yet, you don’t know what else you can do for him. Missie would know. She always knows how to make things better. Maybe you could ask her but it’s a long story. 

Hm. 

You take out your phone and open up the conversation. You giggle at the kitten pictures she sent you last night. It takes several attempts to get it right; ‘hey, Miss, what would you do for someone going through a break-up? Tryna do something nice. Thx <3’ 

You’re sure she’ll come up with something, even without all the details. You tuck your phone away and turn back to your screen. As you do, an email pings into Mr. Rogers’ inbox.  

You click on it and open the attachment. The legal letterhead has your blood cold. Before you can react, you hear Mr. Rogers exclaim.

Oh no, he’s already seen it. Divorce papers. 

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter three.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: high enough by k. flay.

author's note: we're well on our way. this is a shorter(ish) chapter, but that just means that you might get the next one sooner rather than later. as always, please enjoy the banter and sarcasm.

Angel’s Trumpet was going to be the death of you. 

You were convinced of it.

The multiple failed attempts to brew the wretched draught hung over you like a pall and followed you into your second week. When Wednesday night finally rolled around, you were in a proper foul mood. You couldn’t even bring yourself to take more than one bite of lasagne, which was usually your favorite. 

Beside you, Luna set the latest copy of the Quibbler down and looked over at you with concern. “Still having trouble with potions?” 

You nodded, sighing in frustration. “It’s this bloody Angel’s Trumpet. I’ve read over the recipe so many times that it’s practically ingrained into my subconscious, but I just can’t seem to get it right.”

Your roommate smiled faintly. “I know,” she said in her breathy voice. “You do come up with some rather creative curses when you’re studying.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Loons, have I kept you up with my late night ranting again?” 

“No need to apologize. The wrackspurts are truly doing a number on everyone, not just you. They’re especially rampant during the start of term.” Her dreamy eyes sharpened into something that resembled mischief. “And how are your sessions with Theodore going?” 

The faint smile on your friend’s face told you that she definitely knew more than she let on. Besides you and Theo, Luna was the only person in Hogwarts who knew about your secret little dalliances. She had figured it out rather early on last year when you and Theo kept mysteriously disappearing at the same time. It was a shame that everyone underestimated her. Luna Lovegood was the most astute person you knew. 

You had absolutely no doubt that your secret was just one of many that Luna had uncovered by simply being observant. After all, teenagers weren’t exactly covert even if they were witches and wizards. 

“Miserably,” you finally answered. 

Much to your annoyance, Theo had not let up since the weekend. Day after day, he dragged you into the potions lab with varying disastrous results. Just the other night, the damned cauldron spewed magenta liquid like a geyser, effectively soaking you and Theo in pepto bismol pink like a demented water park ride. No amount of scourgify could wash away the shame. 

Luna laughed. “Pansy said that Theo spent hours scrubbing potion off of his fancy leather shoes.”

“Pansy?” you asked incredulously. “As in, Pansy Parkinson? Since when are you two the best of friends?” 

Your friend shrugged nonchalantly, but you clocked the slight flush in her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to replace you. Pansy and I just have a few classes together, that’s all.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is she being nice to you? I swear to Godric if she even says one mean thing I’ll stick a broom up that witch’s ar—“ 

Luna held her palms up. “I appreciate the concern, but I assure you Pansy is very nice.” 

That wasn’t entirely convincing, but you trusted Luna’s judgment. As protective as you were over your friend, you knew that she was perfectly capable of handling herself. 

“I just worry,” you said, patting her shoulder. “Those little serpents have teeth.” 

“Oh, I think you’re more familiar with the Slytherins and their teeth than I am.” 

“Loons!” 

She smiled unapologetically. “Speaking of which, here comes your serpent now and he does look poised to bite.” 

You turned just in time to see Theo marching down the aisle with two of his housemates. The curly headed one, Mattheo Riddle, swaggered on his right and winked at you. Flanking Theo’s left side was Enzo Berkshire, who gave you a polite wave. He was by far the most tolerable out of the lot of them. You wholly ignored Mattheo, but acknowledged Enzo with a nod. 

Theo, on the other hand, you openly glared at. “To what do I owe the displeasure?” 

Every head at the Ravenclaw table turned towards your direction. Though your housemates liked to think they were above the petty drama, Ravenclaws were some of the worst gossips in this school. Three Slytherins walking amongst their midst was as juicy as it got. 

Completely unfazed by the attention, Theo slid in next to you on the bench. “Someone’s got their wand in a twist.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I’ll twist more than just your wand if you don’t leave me the hell alone, Nott.” 

Mattheo smirked. “Oh, I like her.” 

The glare you shot his way was full of venom. “The feeling is not mutual.” Enzo fought a smile as Mattheo gaped. You ignored the both of them and turned back to Theo. “Who are they supposed to be? Your cronies?” 

“Merlin, she never truly lets up, does she?” exclaimed Riddle. 

Theo grinned. “You have no fucking idea, mate.” His expression faltered when he saw the ire dancing in your eyes. “Right, I know that look. Leave us before she decides to turn you two into toads.” 

The boys reluctantly backed away. Beside you, Luna followed suit but winked behind her shoulder as she left the Great Hall. Luckily, Theo’s back was turned to her. 

“What do you want?” 

“Glory, riches, power. The usual,” he deadpanned. “What do you think I want? I've been waiting for you at the lab for half an hour.” 

“I can’t,” you said dismissively. “Not tonight.” 

“Oh, yes you can. I’m too invested to give up now. I am going to teach you how to brew Angel’s Trumpet even if it kills me.” 

“I’d prefer to skip the brewing and get right to the fun part.” You didn’t even notice that your bantering had stopped every conversation at your table. Everyone watched as you menacingly twirled your wand. “Shall I buy a new dress for your funeral?” 

Theo smirked, seizing your wrist. He lowered his voice and spoke quietly so only you could hear. “I’d rather see you wear my jumper again.” 

“Let go of my hand and I’ll be sure to turn up to your wake donning your beloved jumper.” 

He sighed in frustration. “I’m serious about the draught, diavolina. We’re trying again. Tonight.” 

“Was my last try not humiliating enough?” 

“There’s definitely room for improvement. Avoiding turning the lab into a slip and slide would be my first suggestion.” His mouth quirked in amusement. Prick. “Aside from that, I think I finally figured out the missing ingredient.” 

“And that would be?”

“Relaxation,” Theo answered proudly. “You’re way too uptight and it’s feeding into your magic, hence all the explosions.” 

You scoffed. “You want me to relax? I have literally never relaxed in my entire life. I came out of the womb stressed about taxes.” 

Theo snorted. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Let the expert teach you, sweetheart. Being relaxed means being confident and being confident means success.” 

“You do know that confidence and arrogance are two different things, right?” 

“Do you want to brew the bloody potion or not?” 

The fact that Theo was the one motivating you to do school work was only slightly despairing. “Fine,” you conceded. “Teach me how to relax, oh Great Master.” 

“Tucking that away for names I’d like for you to call me in bed.”

“Pervert.” 

“Don’t slut shame me, Y/N. We all have our kinks.” 

“Great. Mine is committing acts of violence against snarky Slytherins.” 

“This snarky Slytherin rather enjoys your acts of violence. Especially if it involves your smartass mouth on mine.” You flushed in response, which only made Theo smirk in satisfaction. “Now, come. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” 

The Astronomy Tower was the last place you expected Theo to take you to. He didn’t really strike you as a stargazing type of guy, but then again, you probably didn’t strike people as the type of girl who slept with her academic rival out of spite. 

Maybe you both had layers. Layers upon fucked up layers. 

The thought almost made you laugh hysterically as you silently watched Theo transfigure his robe into a blanket. He laid it gently across the wooden floor and beckoned you over. “Sit,” he said simply. 

“This is awfully romantic of you. You take a lot of girls up here, Nott?”

“Only uptight little Ravenclaws who’d rather vex me to death than enjoy a stunning view of the stars.”

You snorted. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

He rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him. “Sit. I won’t ask again.” 

To be fair to Theo (a statement you never thought you’d make), the stars were stunning tonight. You sat cross legged on the blanket and watched as constellations twinkled in the horizon. If you were up here with anyone other than the present company, you might’ve found it rather nice. 

But alas, this was Theo you were talking about. It was only a matter of time before he ruined it somehow. Probably with a lascivious comment. 

“Why are you sitting like you’ve got a stick up your arse?” Bingo. “Even more than usual, I mean.”

“Maybe you’re the stick up my arse.” 

“Don’t joke, darling.” Theo quipped, placing a hand over his chest. “You know I’ve been asking for months.”

“Do not make me push you over that railing, Theodore.”

“Jokes on you, I find your threats incredibly arousing. I’m pitching a tent in my trousers just thinking about it.” 

You rubbed your temples. “How is irritating the shit out of me supposed to be relaxing?”

Theo grinned, reaching into his pocket. “Because, I have this.” 

With a proud smile, he produced a tightly rolled blunt. 

“That’s your big idea?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the joint. “Taking me to the highest tower in the castle and getting higher than a hippogriff so we can potentially fall down the stairs and break our necks?”

“It’ll help with your nerves.” 

“The only thing wrong with my nerves is that you’re always on them.” 

He smirked, sticking the joint between his lips. “You’re deflecting. What’s the matter, diavolina? Scared to partake in the devil’s lettuce?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, give it here.” Theo’s eyes widened as you took the joint from his mouth and stuck it in yours. “Well? Are you going to light me up or not?”

He shook his head in mild disbelief before pulling a lighter out of his pocket. You squinted at the silver Zippo, which had initials engraved on the front. The writing was too faded for you to read.

“I got tired of Mattheo stealing my lighters,” he explained. “This way I don’t lose track of it.”

The initials weren’t what surprised you. It was the fact that Theo even had a lighter in the first place. Most wizards just used magic to conjure fire. They certainly didn’t go around carrying muggle inventions in their pockets. It almost made you feel like you were back home in London, bumming a cigarette off some drunk after a night out in the pubs. 

“Why not use incendio?”

Theo shrugged. “An irritating know-it-all once told me that not everything has to involve magic.”

It was strange to hear him echo your words. 

None of it made any sense. Theo would’ve had to venture into a muggle shop to buy that lighter, which was unheard of for a pureblood. Especially not one whose family was part of the now disbanded Sacred Twenty-Eight. The idea of Theo walking around Camden Market to purchase a Zippo was more disorienting than the drugs. 

This little discovery did not line up with what you thought you knew about him. You squinted at him in the dim light, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled your lungs and clouded your senses. Yet one question remained even as you exhaled. 

Who the hell are you, Theodore Nott?

Sensing your gaze, he watched with a small smirk as you passed the joint over to him. It seemed impossible for the drugs to be taking effect so soon, but you found yourself mesmerized as Theo took a long drag. Smoke curled around his mouth as he leaned back on his elbows, tipping his head back to gaze up at the moon. 

“Why the Astronomy Tower?” you asked after a few moments. 

Theo shrugged. “It’s nice up here. Quiet. It helps to get away from the noise.” 

“Strange. I’d become convinced that you sometimes speak just to hear the sound of your own voice.” 

A set of dimples appeared on Theo’s cheeks. On anyone else, it might’ve been endearing. “Close. There’s also the added bonus of annoying you.” 

You didn’t try to stifle your laughter. “Yes, I suppose that sweetens the deal.” 

The two of you sat in silence, passing the joint every so often and quietly contemplating the stars. The absence of noise was jarring. You couldn’t remember the last time that you weren't surrounded by noise. Ravenclaws were a chatty bunch. Whether you were exchanging the newest piece of gossip or bragging about academic achievements, there was always this constant exchange of information. 

Your brain was hardwired to process input. Without it, you felt sort of like a toddler who had just gotten their comfort blanket ripped away from them. 

“Stop fidgeting, Y/N,” Theo commanded with his eyes closed. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.” 

You frowned, picking at your nails. “I don’t think it’s working. Either your drugs are rubbish or my neurosis is canceling it out.” 

He opened one eye lazily. His body language was languid, like he was floating through air. You envied him for it. “Just take a deep breath and empty your mind.” 

“I know that may be easy for someone whose thoughts are typically vacant, but I’m not wired that way. I can’t just turn off my thoughts.” 

Theo sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. He stared at you for a second before his eyes lit up with realization. “Of course. I’m so stupid.” 

“No argument there.” 

He rolled his eyes in response. “I’m trying to get you to relax the Theo way when we should be doing it the Y/N way.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

“Think of the one place in the castle where you feel most at peace.” 

You cocked your head, contemplating. The answer came to you in an instant. “Okay. I’ve got it. What now?” 

Theo rose to his feet and offered you his hand. “Lead the way, diavolina. Show me how the chronically neurotic unwinds.”

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[thriftdyke]

I feel like a lot of times ppl talk about gaining their parents’ acceptance of their lgbt identities by being like “but I’ll still have a normal life! I’ll still fall in love and get married, and yes you can still have grandchildren!” at least I’ve seen that a lot in like. Media. But I feel like we need to normalize being queer in a way that is Not equivalent to a “normal life, just with genders switched”. I would argue that queerness as a way of life is an inherent rejection of the norm. Same goes with “love is love” and “it doesn’t matter who you love or fuck” kind of statements, like sure that’s Nice, but for me queerness is not about Who I love or fuck. It’s about who I am and my outlook on life. It’s a way of revolutionizing how I define my relationships and what “family” means. I am probably never going to “settle down” or get married, I may never even have a traditional committed romantic partner or anything like an “average” sex life, I sure as hell do not want to live in a single family home with a sole partner and kids and be isolated from all sense of friends and community, and even if I woke up straight tomorrow, I am never ever touching a razor or wearing makeup to work again. You don’t necessarily have to be “queer” to have this perspective, and I’m definitely not saying that all queer people do or should live this way, but I would argue that it is a perspective that emerges from queerness and is deeply intertwined with queer history and culture. If I wasn’t a lesbian I would be a completely different person, and that’s not just because I would be loving or fucking men. It’s because I wouldn’t have had to completely deconstruct my relationship to womanhood and femininity and romance and monogomy and all of these things that are deeply ingrained in the structure of society. and I Want straight and cis people to have access to the freedom that comes from that deconstructing, but I think we do ourselves and them a great disservice by trying to make queerness palatable or “the same as” straight/cis-normative life

[melodygatesauthor]

Goodnight, Princess

Yandere Dad's Best Friend - Santiago Garcia X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - For @romana-after-dark's Dead Dove December event!

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

This fic was written in first person from Santiago's perspective. I know that's not normally something I do, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it hehe <3

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, non-con, dubious consent, rape, sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, masturbation, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, non-consensual somnophilia, intoxication, implied murder, dad's best friend, age gap, voyeurism, hidden cameras. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 5.7k

I should’ve put a stop to it the second I realized it was you on the other side of that wall.

Don’t ask me how I knew. A good guess? A hunch? Maybe I’d known you so long that I could tell, based on some deep ingrained instinct, exactly what your lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. You sucked on it like you knew what you were doing, like it wasn’t a challenge for you to take something so big in that pretty little mouth.

I recognized the sound of your moans almost right away. The hum of your voice when you started sucking my dick was the same sound you made at dinner the other night when you popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your mouth. Does your dad know you’re doing this? Do you care? Do you ever worry about what he might say if he finds out?

Don’t worry princess, I'll keep your secret. 

Our secret.

I bet you never thought I would find out about your slutty little side job. To be entirely honest, I didn’t think I’d find you working at a place like this. If you know me at all, and I know for a fact that you do, then you’d know I’m a lonely man. Years of serving in the military and the endless night terrors have made it difficult to find any sort of real relationship, so I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs, sweetheart.

Everybody jerks off, and I’m no exception. I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been in my room, cock in hand while I watch some crappy porno to get myself off. Every once in a while though, I like to treat myself to a little something more. Most people treat themselves to some kind of dessert, or a nice bottle of wine, but I like to treat myself to a night at Club BJ where all the dirty men go to get their rocks off.

I never thought I’d find you there.

Not a chance in hell did I think for even a second that you would be sucking random cocks on the other side of a gloryhole to earn a few extra bucks. You’re so good at it though, princess. How did you learn to swirl your tongue like that? Hm? Was it all the boys at college who taught you how to do that? Did they tell you what a pretty little girl you are while your lips were stretched around them?

They better have. They better have said thank you when they finished all over that beautiful face too.

I couldn’t speak to you. I couldn’t let you know it was me on the other side of that wall, so I hope the $200 tip I left you gets the point across. 

When I got home tonight, you were running through my mind like a fucking hamster on a wheel. I’m not sure what to do now, but I can’t shake how bad I want to go back to the club for another round. I’d pay thousands, probably even tens of thousands, just to have more…

But I can’t do that. Not to you, and not to your dad.

That was the first and only time I’m going to know what it’s like to feel you sucking my cock.

—

There’s no possible way for you to know what you do to me, well, for you to know that it was me on the other side of the hole that you were making feel so fucking good. I’m coming back again, despite promising I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go, but I fucking can’t. You’re like a goddamn siren luring me back to that shithole, and I can’t resist your call.

I’ll be back on Friday, because that’s the night they set the girls up with their asses sticking out through the wall. I would assume the club has you bent over some kind of table on the other side of that wall? I’m not sure, but Friday can’t come soon enough. I feel like I need you.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at me the way you did when I saw you today at your dad’s for dinner. Were you looking at me like that on purpose, sweetheart? I mean, you must be…right? Or have I completely lost my shit?

I probably lost my shit, let’s be honest.

I’ve known your dad since high school. I even helped him beat up a guy that was hitting on your mom back when she and your dad had just started dating. I’m really not a bad guy, and I’ve never looked at you like this. I mean it. But how can I look at you any differently now? How can I look at you any differently after what you did to me? What you did for me.

“Santi, can you pass the butter?” You asked, looking at me, probably no different than usual but I couldn’t think of anything other than those pouty lips wrapped around my dick again.

Did you notice the way my hand shook when I handed you the butter dish? Maybe not, but they were trembling and to be honest it was fucking annoying. I’m a man in his late thirties and I can’t get a grip on the feelings I’m developing for my best friend's goddamn kid. It’s wrong, disgusting, hell I’d kill someone if you were my kid.

But you’re not, and I can’t fucking help it, even though I tried.

Maybe someday, if you ever find out about any of this, I’ll tell you about how much I hated myself (hell, I still hate myself sometimes), when I came home with that post nut clarity. That might’ve been the best blowjob of my life, but I stood in front of my mirror for a good ten minutes trying to tell myself that I’d never go back to that hellhole, Club BJs. I meant it with all my heart when I said it over and over like a mantra.

Now I’m stuck though. I’m stuck thinking about you bent over with a wall separating the top half of your body from the bottom with countless men fucking you until you’re so full of cum you looked like a damn overstuffed pastry. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to have at least one of those men be someone that cares about you.

I guess I’ll have to be the one to do it. I guess this is how I’ll justify doing something I know I shouldn’t.

I’ll see you on Friday, princess.

—

It makes me feel a little bit better to know that every man in there is at least checked for STDs before he gets to fuck you. Surely you wouldn’t have signed up to work at a place like this if they weren’t. You’re smart, you’ve always been so smart. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.

Still not clever enough to know that I was one of those men who stood behind you that night. In fact, I was your last customer of the night. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen, those guys really stretched you out and fucked you good didn’t they? Don’t worry, princess, I took good care of you and gave your little hole a break. I won’t lie, it took everything in me not to use you the way they did, but I’ll do that another time.

Tonight I was on my knees for you, grabbing onto both of your asscheeks and spreading you out so I could clean up the mess those filthy men made of my little princess. You sounded so surprised, I heard you gasp, when I started eating you out. Did you like that? It sounded like you did. I could feel your thighs shaking and at some point you even started rocking back and forth like you wanted more.

Maybe you wanted me to fuck you. Were you hoping that the mystery man on the other side of the wall would clean you up and then fuck his own cum into you too? Or maybe you were happy to have the break. Either way, I licked your swollen clit until I could hear your pretty moans on the other side and feel your cunt throbbing against my tongue. Your slick tastes so good sweetheart, can’t believe you made something so delicious all by yourself.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You asked me. I could almost hear the desperation in your voice, like you were begging me to come back and take you.

“No.” I said firmly, faking a deeper voice than my own.

Next time I will though, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t want anyone else.

—

The same night I ate you out I rushed home to jerk off. It sounds crude to say, but fuck I couldn’t help it. The taste of your pussy was still on my lips. I could still smell you soaked into the stubble on my chin and upper lip. I’m making a mental note to snag a pair of your panties when I come over for the barbecue at your dad’s tomorrow night. Maybe that will help get me through this mess I’m in. Maybe it will help me stop this shit.

I know I can’t keep doing this, but the feeling I get when I’m scrolling through your instagram photos from last summer in your bikini with my cock squeezed in my hand is incredible. I’m looking at those perfect tits hidden beneath such a thin layer of fabric, and your pretty rear is barely covered at all.

When I came it’s like I was possessed, blowing up a picture of your face just so I could imagine myself coating it in all of me. I don’t even really want to talk about how hard it was to clean that mess off my phone.

I feel like I’m losing myself in the depraved thoughts and fantasies I’m having of you. I woke up with soaked sheets and I thought I fucking pissed myself, but I didn’t, it was…something else. I’d dreamt of you. I can’t remember exactly what was happening in that dream, but it must’ve been good, and I’m annoyed that I still can’t remember what it was about.

—

A small part of me, the part of me that still had some morals left, was hoping you’d be working your day job. (honestly I can’t even remember what your day job is, aren’t you a housekeeper? Or a waitress or something?) At least if you were working I wouldn’t have to see you. I wouldn’t have to think about you more than I already was. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have had to sit there and watch you laugh with your ‘friend’ that you’d invited over.

You told your dad when you introduced him, “we’re just friends dad.”

You said it with such an attitude that both your dad and I knew better. You might’ve thought you were just friends, but that guy wanted more, and I knew you were going to give it to him. I could tell by the way you looked at him when you thought no one was paying attention.

I bet you didn’t think I’d hear you both making out in your room that night, but your moans call me now like a moth to a flame. The other barbecue guests had gone home, and your dad was drunk and passed out in his recliner, and I heard you faintly over the hum of the crappy reality show on tv. I didn’t pause the show, I didn’t want to wake up your dad, so I went upstairs silently, masked by the sound on the tv.

Initially, I wanted to walk in there and rip this kid off of you, giving him a few vicious but empty threats before sending him on his way with his tail between his legs. Your voice stopped me in my tracks though.

“Shh, I don’t want my dad to hear us,” you whispered, followed by a sweet giggle.

He won’t, princess. I thought, as though it were me you were talking to and not this loser.

You’d left your bedroom door open, per your dad’s request, such a good little girl. Despite being a grown woman, you still did what your daddy told you, and that’s the only reason I was able to hide in the bathroom and hear you get fucked while I jerked off and imagined I was with you instead of…whatever the fuck his name is.

“Oh god!” You whined, making my body shudder.

That guy doesn’t talk much, and that made it all the easier for me to imagine myself in his place.

When you said, “mm, harder, please…”

I was right there to say, “anything you want, sweetheart.”

I tried to move my hand in time with the light thump of your bed against the wall. It helped. What didn’t help was the fact that I could tell how little you were enjoying yourself. You were making the same sounds you made when you were ass out at the gloryhole. I knew I could do better, I knew I could make your body shake with pleasure like when I was kneeling down behind you with my tongue working overtime on your sensitive clit.

You were pretty good at faking it though, good enough that I was a leaking mess, precum dripping all down my shaft while I worked myself behind the wall your bedroom shared with the bathroom. I really wanted to go in there, tell that guy to get lost and give you the night of your life, but I didn’t. Instead I stood there, spilling a few globs of cum into some toilet paper and calling it good enough.

I was quick to head back downstairs before you even knew I was up there in the first place. That guy had the audacity to say goodnight to me in the kitchen on his way out the door. I let that go pretty quickly because then it was just you and me alone in the kitchen while your dad slept soundly in the living room.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you for the pleasure of taking care of you, of making sure that you got off too, but I bit my tongue. Instead we made small talk about how your college was going and you asked me about Benny, Frankie and Will. 

For a moment I had forgotten about all the things that transpired between us, or that I’d done while thinking about you, and you were just my best friend’s kid again. We were just two people who had known each other for a long time, catching up and making small talk. Then you had to bend over in your shorts, and my cock ignored its usual refractory period to spring alive and nag for attention again.

“You okay, Santi?” You’d asked so innocently, as if I didn’t know what that mouth was capable of, or what that body could take.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I’m not fucking fine, but that doesn’t matter.

—

You slept like a rock that night, not even stirring in the slightest when I grabbed your panties out of your hamper by the closet. They didn’t look particularly fancy, so I assume you won’t miss them, will you? Doesn’t matter anyway, you’d never expect that I’m the one who took them.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disgusting I felt when I got home the next morning and I had placed your panties on my bed in front of me like a prize I’d won. I think I stared at them for at least a full ten minutes before I picked them up again and put them in my nightstand. I’ve never been a “panty sniffer” and I tried to convince myself that just knowing I had them in my possession was enough.

Have you ever read The Tell-Tale Heart? I remember when I was in high school I had to, and it stuck with me for some reason. Your underwear in my nightstand reminded me of that story in some ways. It’s like all I could hear were your moans in my ears and no matter where I went in the house the temptation to smell the remnants of your cunt on that fabric was following me.

So finally, here I am, two weeks after you first sucked my cock, and I can shamefully admit that I did it. I smelled them, and sweetheart, you smell so much better without all that cum inside of you. Of course the panties can’t compare to the real thing, which I don’t know if I’ll ever smell without six loads of spend inside, but god I hope I get the privilege one day.

Or maybe I hope I don’t.

I’m still so torn between the fact that you’re my best friend’s kid, and the way I want to bury my dick so far in that pretty little cunt that you’re seeing stars.

—

I was first in line tonight. It’s Friday night so your ass was out again and untouched this time. You weren’t wet yet which excited me for some reason. It meant I got to have the honors of making you nice and slick.

My hand looks so big against your ass, princess. I wish I could show you. That was me who rubbed your clit, making you shake and whine for more on the other side of the wall. I’m the one who slipped my thick middle finger in that greedy little hole, and then my index finger, and then the ring finger.

I’m guessing you liked it based on how slippery you got, and how much you moaned on the other side. Do you know how dedicated your customers are? One of them got pissed at me for taking too long with you. I can’t say I blame them, your pussy is perfect sweetheart.

God the feeling of sliding my dick between those pretty pussy lips is like nothing I’ve ever felt. As I bottomed out, I felt your walls were squeezing around me like you wanted me deeper, so of course I pushed in more, all the way until I couldn’t go further. You gasped like you hadn’t felt a hundred dicks inside you before mine. 

I slid back again and slammed into you. I heard you begging me to keeping going, and saying, “fuck you’re good, holy shit!”

It was so hard not to say all the filthy things I wanted to when I fucked you, princess. I wanted to tell you how good you looked like that, pussy lips split around my cock like it wanted to swallow me whole. I wanted to ask you if you would like me to stick my thumb in your ass but decided to just try it anyway and see how you reacted.

You liked it.

At least it seemed like you did, your cunt clamped down around my dick like a damn vice grip the moment my thumb popped through your tight little hole. Did you like having something in your ass sweetheart? It’s shocking how tight you are, given how often I know you’re getting fucked. Some of the guys coming in behind me were big, some even bigger than me, but you don’t like them as much as you do when I fuck you, right? Of course not, because you don’t sound like that when you’re with them.

I caught a small glimpse of your eye through the hole. There was a small gap between the wall and your hips and you were looking at the same time I was. Did you see me? Did you have time to realize who I was? Did you come right then and there because you liked the idea of your dad’s best friend fucking you until you were too spent for anyone else?

Your orgasm forced me to come at the same time you did. I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like to spill my load inside of you like I’d wanted to for so long. I remember so clearly being pushed up against your ass, pulling my thumb out of your hole so I could squeeze your hips and pull you over my dick further. It’s like I was willing every ounce of it to fill you up so full that no one else could. It’s like I was trying to make sure that when you look in the mirror a few months from now, you’ll remember the feeling of the man who fucked a baby into you.

I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I know that you’re on birth control. I know that no matter how many times I fuck you, the chances of you actually getting pregant are slim, not that I’d want to get you pregnant anyway. That would be too much, and I don’t want to go too far.

I’m not going to go too far.

—

I went to your house today.

I already had an excuse planned if I somehow got caught while you and your dad were out. If you or your father saw me, I’d say I came back for my hat. It’s not a total lie, I did leave my hat behind, but neither of you needed to know it was on purpose.

Do you realize how much dust has collected on the little stuffed bear you have on the shelf facing directly across from your bed, sweetheart? I doubt it, but it does make for the perfect place to put the small camera I bought.

I feel so fucking gross I can hardly stand to look at myself. But I can’t stand not to watch you touch yourself either. The glory hole is great, but I want to see that pretty face when you’re coming so hard you can’t breathe right, and I can’t do that when I’m on the other side of a fucking wall can I?

Seeing you later that night while I was at my own house, fist closed around my cock and watching you play with yourself is worth all the self loathing in the world. I had the camera feed pulled up on my laptop, and I could see you walking over to your dresser. God, what an array of toys you have. Do you have all those toys because you like them? Or is it because you haven’t found someone who knows their way around your body yet?

If it’s the latter, I promise you won’t need those things once I’m done with you.

Fuck, princess. The one you picked out is so damn big. I’ve seen you fit some pretty big cocks in that little hole, but I was shocked to see you squeezing lube around the head of that thing and gliding it over your pussy lips. You took a deep breath. Does it hurt to take such a fat silicone dick like that? 

Fuck, I’m glad I put the camera where I did. Who had you so wet like that? Hm? Were you thinking about anyone in particular? Can you even get that entire dildo in there? I hated to admit how much I liked watching you struggle. My cock leaked so fucking much I thought I was going to come too fast, but I kept it together.

You finally pushed it in, and I’m so damn proud of you princess. You had a really hard time going all the way though, didn’t you? That tight little pussy of yours was stretched to its limit and you were only halfway in there. Why do you even have a dildo that size if you can’t get it all the way in your cunt? Are you trying to stretch yourself out for someone? You don’t have to stretch yourself for me, I’d be happy to take care of that for you myself.

I watched you push it in even more, I was so focused on the furrow of your turned up brow and the way you bit your lip while I stared. We both exhaled the moment you managed to fit the entire thing in. Your eyes rolled back like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. You really do enjoy being stuffed full, don’t you, sweetheart?

You started fucking yourself with it, the sounds of your wet cunt hit my ears like the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I stroked myself in time with your movements, my eyes focused right on your face, and my cock throbbed every time you moaned. Wasn’t your dad home tonight? Shouldn’t you be a bit quieter when you’re doing stuff like that? Maybe you just don’t care if he hears you.

You started fucking yourself faster so of course I was jerking myself harder, trying to keep up with you without losing it too quickly. It didn’t take long for you to come though. Did you like the feeling of that toy that much? You gushed around it, you choked back some moans but several other soft whimpers escaped, filling your room and hitting my ears through the camera feed. I came too, coating my knuckles and my stomach with so much cum I didn’t know I was even capable of producing that much.

Why’d you have to ruin it? Huh?

It was such a good fucking orgasm for both of us, and then I heard you say a name. It wasn’t my name though, was it, princess? I don’t know why that bothers me so fucking much. Maybe it’s because in some twisted way I’ve managed to convince myself that you were putting on that private show just for me. So if you did do it for me, then I don’t want to hear you saying some other guy’s name while you’re fucking your self like that sweetheart. 

I just don’t.

—

I lost it today.

I really fucking lost it today, princess.

I found that guy. You know the one who fucked you the other night while I jerked off in the bathroom? That ‘friend’ of yours? The one whose name you called out instead of mine?

I found him.

I…

—

Did you miss me, sweetheart? I’m sorry, but I had to leave for a while, at least until things quieted down, and until you weren’t sad anymore. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. I would probably do it again a thousand times if I had to.

You seemed fine during dinner at your dad’s tonight. I don’t really think you were that upset over the guy anyway, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear his name come out of that pretty mouth again. Ever.

After too much wine during (and after) dinner, I carried you upstairs. You never could handle your liquor. Remember when you were only eighteen and I would let you sneak a few shots under your old man’s nose when he wasn’t looking? Your dad was sleeping when I put you down gently in your bed. Your skin is so fucking soft it killed me to step away from you.

Your eyes opened for a moment meeting with mine. I felt my gut stir at the sight of you biting your lip. Why were you doing that to me? Didn’t you know how that would affect me? I couldn’t resist the way you looked at me that night. No one would’ve been able to. It’s not fair for you to put me in that position and expect that I’m just going to walk away. When I think back to it, this was all your fault, princess.

“Santi,” you said sweetly.

I almost climbed on top of you right then when you grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I almost grabbed your throat and fucked you through your shorts, but I held back.

“What, princess?” I asked you, putting a caring hand on your shoulder, trying to fight back my more primal urges screaming in my head.

You shivered, “I-mm-need something towearto mm-bed,” you slurred out.

I could see the curve of your hip disappear into your too-short shorts. I really don’t want you going out in public wearing things like that. I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. I hope it’s comfortable, sweetheart, I can’t let you go cold, can I? When I leaned down to put it over your head, I felt such a fucking ache in my chest when your face appeared again through the hole. Such a pretty babygirl.

“Thank you,” you smiled contentedly and snuggled into your pillows.

I gulped, “princess,” I whispered, slowly creeping my fingers toward the hem of your shorts where they rested on your waist.

“Hm?” You hummed, but you weren’t really awake anymore, from what I could tell.

When I touched your soft, exposed hip you didn’t stir at all, and when I slipped my fingers underneath your panties, then your shorts, you didn’t make a sound. When I pushed both down to your ankles and dropped them on the floor, you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have any fucking clue what I was going to do to you, did you?

Did you feel my fingers when I slipped them between your thighs and felt your little wet cunt? I bet you did, even if you didn’t realize you were feeling it. I thought I would wake you up for sure when I pushed you onto your back and climbed over you. And when that didn’t wake you up, I thought, without a doubt, that when I pulled my cock out and touched it against your slick pussy lips your eyes would shoot open and you’d catch me in the act.

You didn’t though, you stayed deep in your drunken sleep, and I could get away with doing anything I wanted to you.

I’m still wondering what I would’ve done if you’d caught me. What would I say? How would I justify this feeling I craved that only you could satisfy? Would I even need to say anything? Surely you would recognize the feeling of the cock that made you come so good in that glory hole. Surely you’d be desperate for me to keep going.

Being able to look at your face, even if you were asleep, while I slid my dick into your wet heat made my brain stop fucking working. I couldn’t even think. It was like my body just took over, hips rocking into you over and over without a care in the world for how loud the bed was creaking.

You still didn’t feel anything when I dipped down and kissed you, my hips still thrusting slowly against you. This isn’t a Disney movie, and I’m no prince charming, but you’re still my little princess, aren’t you? You’re like my personal sleeping beauty, except my soft kisses didn’t wake you from your drunken slumber.

Thank god.

I kissed all the way down your jawbone until I got to your neck. You’re so soft, and you smell so nice. I kinda wish you’d been awake so I could’ve heard you whimper and whine in my ear. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels to have my cock slamming into your pussy, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips on my neck, my chest, all over my body.

“You take me so well, princess.” I whispered in your ear, hoping that somewhere deep in your dreams you’d hear my words and know I was inside you. “You feel so good, I can’t stop. Never felt anything-so-fucking-g-good-I-f-fuck…”

I came so much that when I pulled back my cum poured out of you as if my cock was a dam holding back a river. I still wonder if I should’ve cleaned you up, but I didn’t. Maybe you’d remember that I was the one who brought you upstairs and you’d put the pieces together.

I can imagine it now, you waking up in the morning with a dried up substance between your thighs. You might not know what it is right away, but I’m sure when you go to the bathroom and notice the hickeys peppered all over your neck, you’ll know that something must’ve happened to you the night before.

I’m not sure what to do now.

I need to have you for myself, that much is clear. The thought of someone else touching you ever again is killing me, so I have to take you. I’ll take you away from all this shit, and I’ll take good care of you. You won’t have to work at that nasty place anymore, I’ll be sure of that. And please don’t worry, princess. When your dad is looking for you, and he needs a friend to help him through the tough times, and the times he’s missing you, I’ll be that friend. He will only be sad for a little while. 

If things go wrong, and someone finds this…well I guess it’s a journal isn’t it? I won’t be able to deny the things I’ve done. I should burn it, but I can’t bring myself to do that. When I read it back, it’s almost like I can relive our time together. Someday I might show you this so you can understand why I did what I had to do, why I have to keep you.

Until then, I hope you sleep well tonight, your final night in your childhood home. I hope you enjoy your last breakfast with your loving dad, and that the two of you don’t argue before he leaves for work. Make sure you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you love him, because I’ll be over before he gets home from work.

Goodnight, princess.

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[edosianorchids901]

And Yet Not Cold

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "scarlet"

“I have a gift for you,” Watson said suddenly.

Holmes, who had been automatically noting the professions and quirks of each person they passed on their walk, glanced up in surprise. “You have brought a gift for me on our walk?”

“No, no. I mean I have a gift for you back at Baker Street.” Cheeks red, Watson avoided his gaze. “It’s not for any special occasion.”

“Mm.” Uncertain what to say, Holmes simply kept walking. He and Watson were rambling about with arms linked this evening, sharing some little warmth against the chilly wind. “You might have waited an additional week, as Mrs. Hudson is once again enforcing her deeply ingrained belief that we must give each other Christmas gifts.”

Watson chuckled. “Oh, I have something else for you for Christmas. This is something extra. You have been working yourself particularly hard, and I thought you could use something nice. Well, hopefully nice.”

“I see.” Holmes had yet to do his own Christmas shopping. He did enjoy giving Watson gifts, but he preferred practical ones, such as a box of his favorite cigars or a bottle of fine brandy. Last year’s gift, a warm green cloak, was being put to practical use by Watson at this very moment. “Shall we return to Baker Street, then? I am a little cold.”

Watson gave him a knowing look. “Certainly, we may return to Baker Street.”

Holmes flashed a quick smile in response. He was indeed cold, but that was not what compelled him to return. Curiosity overruled all else. He could never resist a mystery.

He contemplated his available data in regard to the unexpected gift, and discovered that he had virtually none. It was likely something somewhat unusual, or else Watson should not be blushing and nervous. Unusual, and emotional or personal?

By the time they reached Baker Street, walking more slowly than they would have done in their younger years, Holmes had still come to no conclusions. This merely made him more eager.

“I hope you like it,” Watson said, and now his voice was taut with anxiety. “It’s all right if you don’t.”

“How could I not like a gift from my Watson?” Holmes said, indignant at the thought. “Deliver it to me this moment.”

Watson chuckled and extracted his arm from Holmes’ grasp, then limped upstairs. Holmes watched him, smiling. They would perhaps at some point require two beds down here, as it was becoming more difficult for Watson to ascend the stairs. Neither of them were young anymore.

On his way down, Watson groaned, but he was beaming as he entered the sitting room with a wrapped box. “Sit down, old man.”

“So I do not collapse from surprise?” Holmes said wryly.

“So you do not collapse from exhaustion.”

“Mm. I am a little tired, admittedly.” Holmes was always tired these days. It did not stop him in his work, although he was certainly not climbing up and down the side of buildings anymore. But on certain days, especially after a long stretch of cases, even a short walk left him breathless.

He sank into his armchair, and Watson promptly set the package in his lap. Watson did not sit, instead watching Holmes with considerable nervousness.

Still catching his breath, Holmes opened the package, and drew out a scarf. It was a rich scarlet, a brighter red than he usually wore, and knitted in somewhat uneven stitches.

“You made this, Watson?” Holmes asked, skimming his fingers across the soft weave.

Watson winced, cheeks going as scarlet as the scarf again. “I did. I know it’s brighter than you normally like, but the lighting in the yarn shop was deceptive. And I’ve only just learned to knit, so it’s—”

“It is excellent, Watson.” Pleased, Holmes turned it over in his hands. “It is certainly a bright scarlet, but I do not mind brightness in my scarves. And you have chosen a perfect yarn, both in weight and in texture.”

Watson half sat, half collapsed with seeming relief in his armchair. “Thank God. I asked Mrs. Hudson to teach me how, and I’m afraid I’m not particularly good at it.”

“Nonsense. You have made a scarf!” Holmes put it on and flashed a smile at Watson’s pleased laugh. “And as my good friend Watson knitted it for me, it shall no doubt be my new favorite.”

Leaning back in his armchair, he picked up his pipe, and Watson did the same. The wind howled outside their sitting room, and Holmes suspected from his observations that snowfall was on its way. But in here, with his new scarf and Watson’s warm company and laughter, he was well fortified against the cold.

[polin-erospsyche]

This post was inspired by a comment from an anon in my ask box. They mentioned that if the Queen hadn’t interrupted Polin's wedding, they could have had a beautiful wedding night (if you’re the anon and you’re reading this, hi! And also, I know this isn't everything, but I'll touch on the rest. Small disclaimer: this got long and I’m sorry).

I agree, that could have happened. But honestly, I'm really glad it didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved to see it, but I don’t think it would have been good for them. The intimate scenes we did get tell an overarching story and serve a purpose in the narrative. We’ve been told that these intimate moments are a way for them to communicate, so let’s unpack that.

The first intimate scene is about them discovering each other in a new, intimate way, moving from friendship (which had already started to happen in the carriage) to a lover relationship. This moment is crucial for Penelope's story and character development. From this, she grows in confidence and self-awareness. She expresses this to Colin multiple times, such as when she says, “with the confidence you’ve helped me find this year,” and later, “You’ve taught me to hold my own. You have shown me I’m capable of pleasure beyond imagination.”

From that intimate scene onward, Penelope starts to come into her own power and that includes her sexual power. Colin shows her a level of love and care beyond what she ever thought possible, breaking down the belief system she built around herself. She was ready to sacrifice her dreams of being loved and held for financial stability, a mindset ingrained by Portia. Colin helps her see that this doesn’t have to be the case, chipping away at her long-held beliefs.

Let’s now move to the scene in the alleyway, which links back to anon’s comment. Anon suggests that this is the moment they start repairing their relationship post LW reveal. That following this scene they were in a good enough place to enjoy their wedding night if the Queen hadn’t crashed the party. Yes. And no. 

And oh my god how I’ve longed to discuss this scene but I never quite knew how to approach it. At this point in the show, the narrative is like a tightly wound ball of yarn with so many threads to pull at. So, let’s attempt to pull at them. 

First of all, they’ve entered a whole new playing field. And they’ve entered this playing field while being “the oldest of friends really” so they have ammunition against each other. Pen has hurt Colin by lying (hiding the truth from him time and time again) about her identity. She has let him go on and on about his despise of Lady Whistledown. About his dreams of being an author. These were things he told her in intimacy. Those were things he told his best friend and the person he fell in love with. Not the woman who hides behind her column and has done so much wrong to his family and loved ones. 

There is a separation between the two. For Colin, in that alleyway, there is still just Pen his best friend, Penelope the woman he loves and on the other side of that there is Lady Whistledown, the woman he vowed to destroy. He expresses that when he says “so then you do not need Lady Whistledown anymore”. What he fails to realise at this point, and he cannot be blamed for that, is that Lady Whistledown is an integral part of who Penelope Featherington is as a person. That her alter ego is not just a mask she wears but a crucial aspect of her identity, giving her a sense of power and agency in a world that often limits her as a woman. Something that Pen has slowly come to terms with when she says that she no longer needs to hide behind this alter ego but that does not mean there is no value in it, something that she also explains to him after the Queen has crashed their wedding breakfast. 

Now I say that he cannot be blamed for his refusal of recognizing that they are one and the same because he is still holding onto his misbelief, which is that to be loved and to have a value he must protect what he loves and be useful. Part of that is saving and avenging the people he loves from Whistledown. He has given his word to Eloise, to Marina indirectly, to himself and I’m thinking to Pen silently after what she’s written about herself. He finds himself, due to his misbelief, between a rock and a hard place: “the person he vowed to destroy is, in fact, the person he vowed to protect, and there is no separation between the two” (not me directly quoting myself lol). To this you add all the shame over his writing and his envy of her success and you have a recipe for disaster. 

So essentially, in that alleyway you have Pen who is already well along her character arc and Colin who is still gripping onto his original, unchanged self. This represents a power imbalance. What I love throughout this season, and I might write something about this one day, is that Pen and Colin are never quite on the same level both literally and figuratively. There is always one ahead of the other. This, in the long run, is another recipe for disaster because they are never quite equal. That is UNTIL that butterfly ball when they’ve gone through their character arc respectively. That is the moment they fully come together. They become a unit. They are no longer fighting against each other but with each other and for each other. 

But to arrive to this moment they need to do it separately. They need to be able to work on themselves before they can fully be able to work on their marriage. Genevieve says it well “there is no such thing as true love without first embracing your true self”. For Penelope that is becoming Penelope Bridgerton, an amalgam of the best parts of Whistledown and Penelope Featherington. For Colin that is deconstructing his hero complex and fully believing that he is enough just by being exactly who he is. And that has not happened in that alleyway. Truthfully the surface has barely been scraped in that scene because she essentially shuts down his demons for an instant by saying that she loves him. However, the issues remain. 

So yes, we can speculate all we want. If the Queen had not interrupted their wedding, they might have had a wedding night and they might have had a talk about everything afterward. However, the lack of acceptance of their true selves would have driven them up a wall at the next problem, which was how to handle Cressida.

And I think that is why Polin season is actually so beautiful. It is not just about Polin. It is about marriage and how hard it can get, and how you have to work on yourself to fit around the person you love without sacrificing yourself in the process. It is about choosing each other every day, through the ugly as well as the beautiful, through the hard parts as well as the easy ones. It’s choosing to have faith that you’ll work and figure it out without an assurance that it actually will, but if the love is there, then it just might. That is the story they chose to tell through Penelope and Colin.

First gif made by my bestie @polinsated 💕

[star-crossed-sluts]

Could you please write a loki x reader. Reader gains weight on accident at first but loki likes it so he gets reader to gain more. Fem reader.

If not it’s okay <3

I love writing about men discovering they like reader chubby <3 This is my first time writing third person limited focused on the male lead, so any feedback would be cherished

Contents: 1.1kwords, love mentions, weight gain and associated body changes/insecurities, giggly sex

Minors DNI

You are responsible for your own media consumption

Loki’s never been… particular, shall we say? 

Sex was nothing to him. A means to an end, no care for any specific physical form for his partner to have, let alone prefer it. Love on the other hand was something he’d never dreamed of having for himself - some abstract concept that didn’t exist, at least not for him. He never thought for a second that love was something he would hold in his arms every dawn and dusk, or that he could taste it in homemade cooking and smell it in the bathroom after you’d showered. 

In that aspect, you’d managed to exceed all the expectations he’d never had.

“Fuck!”

Loki never knew how terrible love could be. How his heart could drop out of his body just from a vulgar word in the other room, or how he could be so worried he could completely forget about using magic to get to you faster. Not until he was running through your apartment (which he was slowly and methodically laying his own claim to, until he was so ingrained in your life you couldn’t get rid of him. Naturally.) Why would anyone subject themselves to something that could hurt so much?

And then he laid eyes on your half-nude form and remembered.

Because you were standing in the middle of your bedroom in your undergarments (“please just call them panties,” you’d always beg) and he had the absolute privilege to stare at you as perversely as he desired. If another man thought of you the way he did, he’d have to reconsider world domination. Put the fear of the gods back into those mortals. 

But when you spun around to face him, you had a sour look puckering your lovely features. “You,” you accused, jabbing a finger at him, “are at fault here!”

“Probably,” he conceded instantly. “What have I done?”

You threw some of your clothes at him. He recognized them. You called them the good jeans. He called them infernal invention that keeps me from your sweet pussy. “They don’t fit anymore!”

He tried not to show his pleasure too much. “Oh?” He immediately knew he’d failed, your glare furthering. 

“Oh,” you mocked, a thick British accent on the word. “This is your fault, y’know? Before you, I ate pretty healthy. Now I’m going out every other night to restaurants that smother everything in butter and wine-”

“You’re upset about going out?”

Loki could practically watch memories of the delicious food you’ve been sharing dance through your vision, inducing a small dreamy sigh. “No,” you decided, “no, I’m not. No, I just-” You huffed, falling against his chest and trusting him to both hold you upright and comfort you - which he did happily. “I’m just frustrated because now I have to actually put effort into working out or find new jeans.”

And, well, Loki was adamantly against more jeans, so he may have gently swayed you to the other option. After all, he wanted you happy, and he didn’t care what your form looked like to make that happen.

Until he got you undressed in a different circumstance. 

Until he was bullying his way into your sweet cunt with your soft form pressed against him. Your breasts bouncing against the hard plane of his chest, thick thighs hooked over his slim hips, heels pressed into the small of his back. You felt like velvet all over - from the soft skin pulled taut over wide hips in his hands to the wet heat wrapped around his cock. He hasn’t been so close to blowing his load so soon since his first time between your thighs. 

“Look so beautiful, my love,” spilled from his lips like a waterfall. He simply couldn’t hold it back, and besides that, he wouldn’t want to. His Queen deserved to know just how stunning she was, every minute of the day. Especially when it made you moan into his ear, hand snapping over your mouth like you could take it back, turning away from him even as your hips met his with every thrust. 

His Queen was so shy. 

Loki took the soft tendon on your neck between his teeth, gently working a mark onto the skin, groaning against you as your walls fluttered around him at the sensation. “Don’t hide from me, love,” he coaxed. Long fingers wrapped around your neck from behind, rubbing gentle circles into your hairline, completely contrary and yet perfectly befitting the way he hammered into you. His other hand traveled your body like he was discovering you all over again, caressing every new dip and pudge of skin like you were the most amazing sculpture. People across the world would marvel at your beauty, whisper that man wasn’t capable of creating such magnificence - that you were instead made by a god. 

“Stop,” you slurred through the pleasure, his rolling hips working your sensitive clit against his dark hair. Your hand on his back clawed the pale skin, leaving your mark on him as it curled into a fist, beating the breadth of his shoulders with no force. You giggled through the moans as his fingers danced over your sides, hissing, “that tickles,” at him as if that would ever implore him to quit. “Stop fondling my rolls!”

“What a cruel world,” he lamented theatrically, the only way he knew how, “when a man can’t even fondle his dearest love!” 

“Be serious when you’re in my guts!”

“I am serious, darling!” A sharp tug pulled you higher up on his lap, cock spearing even deeper into you, pushing out a whine from deep in your chest. “Don’t you feel how well we fit? You’re perfect, my love, and your body’s no exception.”

He let you hide away in his neck, nipping your own small marks onto him as his thrusts turned slower, more sensual. “Even when I’ve gained-”

“Don’t you Midgardians have a saying about that? ‘In sickness and in health?’” 

Your lips stretched against him, betraying the way you tried to sound less eager as your hips rolled against his. “Those are wedding vows, Loki.”

He guided you to his lips, devouring you with a smile. “I’m practicing for the future, then.” 

He delighted in the way you giggled as you came on his cock, holding him close as he fucked you through it. He craved the way you no longer shied away when he groped your waist, pulling you harder against him as he used the way your cunt sucked him in to chase his own end.

He had a standing reservation made before your legs stopped shaking.

[tinaswampdweller]

Yandere!Izuku X Reader

This is a drabble and is unfinished. I like it though and thought someone else might enjoy it. It’s rough but still readable. It’s essentially just Writing practice.

“I used to think I was a good person, you know. I used to ask myself why Kacchan did it. I could never understand. I was gonna go to UA, become a pro-hero, settle down and marry an admirable woman.”

I looked up at him, knees sore from digging into the ground for too long. His glowing green eyes looked unusually vibrant as they watched me.

He continued with an unsettling smile as if remembering something fond.

“I once visited a psychic with Kacchan and Kirishima, you wouldn’t know them, but it was something fun to do after class. The psychic, foretelling futures was her quirk, at least that's what she told us.” He chuckled like it was a funny story he was telling.

‘He’s so ingrained in his story, Y/N. This is the perfect time to make a run for it.’ a voice whispered in my mind.

He once told me his quirk made him tired if he used it too much. Given that he was probably on patrol earlier with a pro-hero, there was a chance he wouldn't use his quirk due to fatigue if I slipped past. A small chance.

“She. Said. I’d marry Urakaka, you wouldn't know her but I hadn't even told her her name. Can you believe that?” He let out a laugh, equal parts astonished and incredulous. “But she knew it. And that should have given me some relief, I was gonna marry a pretty and admirable woman, one that my mom would like.”

NOW! I leapt up using a touch of my quirk. It was by no means a heroic quirk, but it allowed me to use a boost from his quirk, whatever it was.

Two steps. Two steps was all I had moved before he had me. Hands tightly gripping my forearms close to his chest. His emerald eyes pierced into mine with that all too familiar dark stare. Amusement swimming in his electric orbs. It was a look unfit for a hero and all too perfect for a villain.

“Dammit, I wasn't finished with my story.” he said, his voice rising with a hint of irritation. I had annoyed him. Unlike most, Izuku thrived under pressure. From now on, his eyes would be fixed on my every move.

“Let. Go.” I spat at him through gritted teeth. His grip was firm, a faint static buzzing where his hand met my skin. He was using only a fraction of his strength, yet it was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“I should be happy right? RIGHT?” He yelled directly into my ear, his grip tightening as he shook me, the force rattling through my bones. Why was he so strong? Why was he always so much stronger each time he found me?

“I’m gonna be an amazing hero with a pretty wife to show off. But for some reason, it annoyed me. If I marry Urakaka, that leaves you free to take. Any weirdo or creep could just snatch you up.”

I began to struggle against his grip. Whatever weird monologue he was going on about, I didn't want to hear any of it.

“You're the fucking creep!” I shouted as my vision began to blur, desperately trying to tug my sore arms out of his vice-like grip. He’d used only a fraction of his quirk as a warning and just that was enough to overwhelm me. My stupid quirk only intensified his.

“No, no. Come on, don't say that. Yes, I can be creepy but… I’m different from the rest.”

Even in this dire situation, his words still managed to make me cringe.

"You're wondering if I know how I sound, aren't you?" he said with a cheerful, almost childlike giggle, as if this was some lighthearted exchange, a shared inside joke. "Yeah, I know exactly how I sound. But the thing is-" he leaned in, his voice dropping to an almost playful whisper "-if I come across that way, it's really your fault. Think about it. All of this… it’s only happening because of you."

"Wasn't it you who wanted me first?" he spat, his voice tinged with impatience. "You called me cute, counted my freckles, played with my hair –hell, you kissed me first! But no, of course, it's always someone else's fault, isn't it? Can’t you take responsibility for a damn thing in your life?"

………………………………………………………………………….

thanks for reading. If anyone’s up to it, I’m looking a specific yandere!izuku fic where the reader enters her home to find izuku on her couch. He’s being all coy and cute but vaguely threatens her family. I think it ends with her going limp as he kisses her. Just really stuck with me so if you know lmk

[yuri-is-online]

Happy Holidays! I’ve been on a bit of an angst fix lately, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to brainrot in your inbox about it.

I’ve been thinking about a scenario where Yuu just finally snaps. I mean, an entire school year of being trapped in a foreign world with no certain hope of seeing your family again, being forced to contend with (at least) 7 life-or-death scenarios, the massive egos these teenage boys have, and probably at least a little bullying from the NRC students for being magicless. I mean come on, I love our boys and all, but a lot of them are kind of awful people. There’s no way a regular person’s mental health survives that.

And maybe Yuu, tired of it all, packs up what little they have and leaves. Surely their prospects couldn’t get any worse than at NRC. Maybe Yuu tries their luck at RSA in finding someone to help them go home. Maybe Yuu just wanders until they find somewhere where they can be something. Would they even leave a letter behind explaining what happened to them, or would they just assume no one would care anyway?

I just want some more Yuu angst lol

Do you have any thoughts on this?

Happy Holidays to you too annon! Everyone is welcome to brainrot in my inbox, especially about Yuu. And I do have some ｢(ｰﾍー;) but I might be a bit nicer to the NRC boys than they deserve.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, more fleshed out fic can be found on my masterlist here. SPOILERS FOR UNRELEASED CH 7 CONTENT. CW for abandonment issues, ptsd, bullying, and just general ignorance on the part of the OB boys. Heavy on the angst, this is a mega oof tm of a post.

I want to start off by saying that, in my personal opinion based off of the in game voicelines and vignettes, that the various NRC boys do like Yuu and enjoy having them around. They think of them as the same of any other freshmen student at NRC, which is sort of the problem.

The average NRC freshmen has magic, a dormitory with a housewarden responsible for "guiding" them, and a family they can fall back on if things get rough. The average student has a basic understanding of the history of the world they live in, of it's pop culture, it's food, it's clothes, and a bunch of other things that they might not think about because of how ingrained it is in their very being. Yuu has none of those things. They don't even have a cannon club which I think is more meant to allow players to have head cannons, but since we are talking angst I have wondered if since Yuu and Grim are one student, any club Yuu wanted to join would have to take Grim as well and no one wanted to deal with that. So Grim started his own "club" and Yuu just takes pictures of birthday celebrations and events they aren't able to fully participate in for the school at Crowley's request.

Ace's first reaction to Yuu is to bully them for not having magic. Deuce admits to having done the same thing as when he was a child, and is very embarrassed by it. We don't really see Yuu getting outright bullied outside of this, but given how the faceless students reacted to Deuce being excited for Starsending, yeah I think Yuu has had to deal with some bullying. And while I do think Adeuce (and the rest of Heartslabyul really) would stick up for them, it wouldn't make it stop. If anything it just gets sneakier and Yuu, not wanting to cause any problems, does their best to cover it up. Something about keeping a stiff upper lip or a smile better suiting a hero and all that.

The overblots is a whole separate issue. We get two real apologies, one from Riddle and one from Vil, who again do not take Yuu being magicless in to much thought. They think of Yuu highly! They are a housewarden of their own little dorm! And they take such good care of Grim and the others, not to mention all those overblots you survived! Not many mages can claim that but you can! What could you possibly have to be stressed about?

As if that isn't the entire problem. As if anyone understands where Yuu is coming from. As if they even would care if they did.

They might be just as capable as any other freshmen, but when school ends, hell even when it goes on a break, they have no where to go. They were stripped from their friends, family, and especially their belongings, including money and autonomy! I have some thoughts about my own Yuu wanting to be nurse in her world, but given how much of even basic medical care seems to rely on magic in Twisted Wonderland I wonder if that would even be a career path any magicless person could take. We know a lot of them work at Styx because they don't risk blot accumulation, but even cooking is done with magic (if it can be) in Twisted Wonderland! How would you feel if you had your heart set on being a doctor, worked really hard to get good grades and took up a part time job to save for college/university only to be transported to a different world with different laws of physics completely against your will. A world where all that hard work is meaningless and you might not be able to accomplish those dreams of yours. And! AND AND! If you get upset about it, that will be seen as a weakness on your part and no one will care.

Because hey, they had to work for what they have. Why can't you? They didn't ask to be born with magic (even though they would have probably) so there is no use crying about things you can't change. Ruggie and Jamil do seem to feel a bit of sympathy to Yuu's plight, but neither of them think twice about exploiting Yuu for their own gain. Sure it might be unfair, but life is in general! It's not their fault, they aren't to blame. And that's really how all of NRC sees it, they aren't to blame for Yuu's circumstances, so they aren't owed any special treatment.

How Yuu snaps and what they do because of it would really come down to how you hc your Yuu to be. My own personal thoughts come back to personal autonomy a lot; I don't think Yuu has much of it and that would grate on me constantly. I could see Yuu hearing their friends talk about their plans for the future, and though Ace and especially Deuce try to include them in the conversation they can't add much. Ace applauds them, says "we need to take things easy! We're still freshmen..." and drones on about how he just wants to enjoy school life. And maybe Yuu does too, but they have no concrete answer about whether or not they can get home. They don't have the support system that their classmates do, so there really isn't anything waiting for them after the school year ends. Yuu feels so helpless, and they don't have the words to explain how they feel, because how could they?

If Malleus's overblot ends without any real repercussions (which I doubt it will but hey, I am like 65/35 on whether or not he apologizes to Yuu specifically for almost killing them I will be so pissed if he doesn't) I could see everyone else making fun of Malleus for loosing while Yuu just. Stares off into the distance, trying really hard not to cry in front of people they are convinced will make fun of them. This has all been scary, things like this just aren't possible in their world and they aren't mentally prepared to face death again.

And they are convinced they will. You can say overblots are rare all you like, but Yuu has practically seen one once a month ever since they arrived in this world. It is normal to them, and who should they trust? The lying headmaster or their lying eyes and ears?

If Yuu decides to run away, I think that the Ramshackle ghosts might try to stop them. Sure the headmaster sucks, but your ghost buddies really love you! And want to support you in anyway they can, so does Grim! He wants to be together for the next 100 years, and while he does really want to stay at NRC so he can be the world's greatest mage... I think he might love Yuu more. Just a tiny bit. He would play it off as him being too good for the school, or that he and Yuu are only one student after all so he will be expelled... but really he wants to come with because he will be worried about Yuu.

While going to RSA does sound nice on paper, Yuu doesn't really have a reason to go there. They aren't exactly on first name basis with any of the students we've met so far, and there is always the risk of Che'nya snitching to Riddle and Trey. Better to try and find a place where they can be something and maybe send letters to all the magical academies they can get contact information for to see if they can help. And also, to see if they will accept Grim as a full student, got to make sure he isn't sacrificing his dream for nothing!

The ghosts, realizing they can't convince Yuu not to leave decide to help. They already sell things at the markets downtown, so maybe they chat with some of their clients and convince them to let Yuu rent a room for a while. You have the option in Portfest to mention you have been to Craneport before, and I like the thought of Yuu having a part time job there. Maybe the ghosts explain that Yuu has no real family to go back to and Yuu's part time employer agrees to give them a full time job while Yuu figures out where they want to go.

Another thing related to personal autonomy, Yuu wouldn't have government documents if they just got isekaid out of the blue. I could see that being a huge issue for traveling to different countries and trying to establish a life. I also wonder if Crowley even did anything about that... but assuming he did since he (allegedly) talked to the school board about what to do with Yuu I think the ghosts would get them for Yuu on the condition they still come visit sometimes.

As for the note, I think Yuu would leave one simply because they feel like they didn't have the words to explain themselves out loud. And because they don't want to face the fight they know will come where everyone tells them to just suck it up and get on with it. These are teenage boys they are dealing with, their brains just can't fully comprehend the situation Yuu is in and they have given up expecting them to.

Just so we're clear, I think this would devastate Ace and Deuce, maybe to the point of destroying their friendship, at least for a while. Ace does think about Yuu not having magic, he wants to protect them. He says so when you level him to max, that protecting you will be easy, but clearly it wasn't. Clearly he failed you, and what does Ace do when he feels bad? He takes it out on everyone else and in this case especially Deuce. Deuce just feels stupid, which he already does a lot, but he really saw you as being around for the rest of his life. And now you aren't, and not for a happy reason like you got to go home. You aren't there because they failed you.

The others are a bit of a mixed bag I could do a separate post about but to hit the other big one...

I have no real idea how Malleus would react. I can see him thinking this means Yuu is afraid of him now, which I don't think he would react well to, but assuming this is post ob then he might be willing to take responsibility for it. It would certainly make him think, but how that thought would manifest? Outside of the obvious weather changes I do not know. I could see him being slightly resentful to his mother for cursing him to be hated by humans and loved only by fae when he so desperately wanted to be loved by one specific human. They were his first real friend, and he didn't treasure them in a way they found meaningful.

idk Yuu dropping off the grid isn't something I can see Crowley letting happen, but I can see why Yuu would want to try.

[charmedreincarnation]

hi i’m sorry for this small rant. i really hope you reply to it because i’m spiralling so bad. i have been listening to v powerful luckiest girl and get all your desires instantly forced subs and i had two really bad days and overall my life feels so shit and i feel like nobody gives a shit about me feel left out with my friends and am really regretting some past choices i have made as in subjects i chose to study. why do subs not work on me ever? i detach but subs just don’t work for me idk what should i do i want to enter the void and live my better/dream life but i keep failing and i’m so spiraling so hard rn. i am not even seeing small success i can’t even manifest my acne away or to grow a few inches how will i enter the void and magically change my life entirely. please help me out. how do i manifest or enter the void as soon as i can. i am being delululu living in 4d but yes ik if i am truly living in the end i shouldn’t have doubts but it’s been so many months when will i see results in my 3d. manifestion should be instant right. i’m sorry for my negativity i hope you have a great day

Hi love! I feel like any of this could be answered in another ask, but you seem really worried, so I'm going to answer it anyway!

First and foremost, you are allowed to have doubts. Just because you have doubts doesn't mean you're producing those thoughts. From a psychological perspective (which aligns with LOA), our thoughts are not entirely our own. This is a scientific truth, whether you believe in LOA or not. Scientists say that our thoughts are influenced by external factors such as our environment, upbringing, and the thoughts of others. Sound familiar? They also claim that we have the power to change our thoughts and create our own reality by consciously choosing the thoughts we entertain. So, just know that you're going to have doubts until the end, but as long as you categorize them as random thoughts and not your own beliefs, they don't matter! For example, if someone dressed as Chucky the doll jump-scared you and you started having "scary" thoughts about it, that doesn't mean you actually believe Chucky is real and coming to get you. You have psychological responses to certain things that have been ingrained and coded in you for a while now. What LOA does is help us intercept these false messages and reframe them as "useless" instead of messages we encode in our mind and assumption.

I've always been interested in psychology and neurology, and even though it doesn't directly relate to your question, it's important to mention that you do have a brain, and your brain is wired to act in certain ways. Once you're aware of why you're acting and believing certain things, it becomes way easier to understand that the 3D world is malleable. I really suggest reading books by authors like Joe Dispenza so you can understand yourself better. Also, watching YouTubers who explain anxiety and reading self-help books can provide helpful ways to manage your own anxiety.

The second thing is, if you don't believe in subliminals, I don't know why people do this, but if you don't have faith in something or assume it doesn't work for you, just use something you have a little faith in. For example, maybe you're more logical. You can read about brain waves and then listen to binaural beats for anxiety,manifesting, and faith. Have faith in it, because you'll understand and know that those waves genuinely change your brain's alignment. That's just one example, but subliminals are not the only type of audios out there. There are many other methods to explore.

Also, meditation is very helpful. Not just to reach the void, but do you know how many conscious thoughts we have in a day? On average, it is estimated that a person has around 60,000 to 80,000 thoughts per day. These thoughts can range from conscious, deliberate thoughts to automatic, repetitive thoughts. That doesn't even include the number of unconscious thoughts we have, which is probably 100k+. You constantly have these little things running around in your head, trying to keep you alive, keeping you repeating the same thought patterns, beliefs, and assumptions. You can't consciously control them most of the time, but your brain and mind are working overtime 24/7. It's not your fault, so that's why meditation can help you. Not just to reach the void, though you can tap into that using some form of meditation as well, but to clear your mind and then it’s there it will be better to affirm and believe you can do whatever you desire. If you're not truly embodying the desired state, which you're not because you sent this ask, do you think a few measly affirmations can counteract the hundreds of thousands of thoughts you've been having every day since birth, most of which you don't even know exist? Affirmations do work, but trust me, I've been where you're at and worse. This is not the state to solely rely on "miracle affirmations" because you won't believe them, and when something doesn't happen, you'll just want to give up and confirmation bias will make you subconsciously think, "Well, see? I knew it. It isn’t real" But in reality, your mind is just looking for proof to align with your negative beliefs.

I know you say you haven't manifested anything, but can you really think back to something you thought was a "coincidence" or something you didn't really ask for but it just appeared? We usually brush those off as just the world at play or a small world, but nope, that was you. Maybe you don't have clear skin or whatever your desire may be, but as you probably know, that's because you've put it on a pedestal compared to all the other "small" but great things you've manifested

I know you probably wanted me to tell you exactly what to do, but I genuinely don't know you the way you know yourself - your own self, mind, and behaviors. You know best, fr! I could have said anything I've said before, like imagination is the real reality, the 3D being malleable, if you can see and feel it you can manifest it, try SATs or lucid dreaming lalala. But I've learned that you know what you have to do. Sit and meditate to learn about yourself and your mind, and why you think what you think. What past experiences do you still hold onto, reliving them in your mind and creating assumptions that no longer serve you? They can still affect you, we are humans and emotions cling to us like bees to honey, and that's okay. But we need to start moving those experiences into the past and start creating with what we are now, which is the present. Any given moment is a time to say, 'Okay, this doesn't serve me anymore, and this does. I don't want this life anymore, I want this type of life,' and consciously start creating with those desires instead.

Acknowledge your doubts, they're just doubts, and they're really just an extension of life factors that have been slowly consuming your mind. You may have them, but as a god, do you have them? No. But as a human, you are influenced by them, and who cares? You know who you are and your power now, so if you disregard them, work around them. But I can't tell you what to do because I'm not you! I wholeheartedly believe that you will get through this because I have as well and the lows are just apart of your journey as the success as corny as it sounds. But when you do succeed I promise you’ll back to this movement and just be very happy you didn’t give up despite how hard it was 💝

[thelesbianthespianposts]

Rachel Berenson is on the Villains Wiki and I’m mad

so I’m gonna go through this bullshit page and show how bullshit it is

Starting off, they call her an anti-heroine.

first off, I think that definition isn’t great, but also, Rachel has a LOT of heroic attributes. She’s brave, she’s strong, she clearly loves her friends, she’s determined, she’s loyal and she shows regret for her less heroic actions. Plus, in the more literal definition of anti-hero, (a character who works against the protagonist but isn’t the antagonist), she IS a protagonist. She never works against the animorphs except when she was cut in half and one half was all of her strength with none of her inhibition.

They call her a monster??? She’s a child. And while it’s true the war affected her psychologically, it did that to everyone else too. If you want a character that turned into a cruel irrational monster, look no further than her first cousin, Jake.

Like this is much worse than what Rachel has going on. (Not saying Jake is a villain btw I’m just calling out the hypocrisy).

The entry tries to characterize Rachel as some remorseless killing machine when it’s just not true. She constantly thinks about her actions. Honestly this page reads like she wrote it about herself because it lists all her insecurities as fact.

This is when she gets put back together, she has to come to terms with the fact that she is not pure killing machine, but not completely innocent either. And she’s scared!

This is my favorite Rachel introspection. The idea that she finds comfort in her hubris because it means she’s not alone is so important. She clearly hates herself for enjoying the fighting, but seeing that people throughout history also dealt with that makes her feel more human.

(Wrong use of whom, left out a was, terrible run on sentence)

(Before she dying?? Girl) But anyway, this blatant misrepresentation of Rachel’s conversation with the Ellimist is wild. It frames the conversation as if Rachel was mauled and the Ellimist came in to call her a mistake. That’s not what happens. He does say he never intended Rachel to be an animorph, but she had proven herself invaluable to the team. Then, he tells her something that invalidates this whole page, I’m guessing why they didn’t mention it.

“You were brave. You were strong. You were good.” It serves as a moment of relief, making Rachel know that her insecurities were wrong and that she was a good person, despite her actions. She dies with that knowledge, providing her with a sense of closure that’s really good narratively, and brought tears to my eyes.

Marco, albeit reluctant originally, enjoyed the war. Jake towards the end of the series definitely enjoyed escalating the war. Ax, with his authoritarian propaganda against yeerks ingrained in his mind enjoyed the war and even suggested using harsher tactics on yeerks several times. Rachel did enjoy fighting, yes, but it was always a topic for her self reflection. Her love for fighting was her big flaw she had to work through narratively. It makes no sense to use that as justification to call her a villain.

Anyway- have some of my favorite Rachel moments I didn’t already include

Her awesome shopping logic- she would never call it “girl math”

Love her aside about Cassie and Jake bc we know Cassie was insecure and thought Jake wouldn’t like her bc she’s Black, so it’s nice to see her defending it even to Tobias.

On that topic, I love this interaction. (Obvi the kind of dated “colorblind” thing isn’t great now but it’s the 90s so it’s how they would talk about it) but Rachel is so quick to assure Cassie that her fears are unfounded, but in a nice and comforting way that doesn’t invalidate Cassie’s feelings.

Just some funnies