#to know so many people in the damn parks want me fucking dead.

[wolfvirago]

;; I want to go home.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

The itch

An: so I’ve never written for TUA, I think, I haven’t written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women it’s odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, I’ve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.

Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh it’s hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.

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You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ‘normal’. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didn’t pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more ‘unhinged’ than your husband.

You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.

So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didn’t know why you couldn’t make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasn’t shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random ‘play pretend’ things.

Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward

“I just needed a minute, just needed” you nodded

“Take all the minutes you need. I assume it’s like pulling teeth in there with Diego?” Lila nodded sighing loudly

“Fives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I don’t understand being tired of idiots…I just…” you paused looking back out the windshield

“It’s like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?” You nodded looking at her

“I find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I can’t just blow up or freeze people anymore, it’s like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he just…”

“Doesn’t listen? Or doesn’t understand that you are used to how your life was and now that it’s different, it’s not bad but it’s eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?”

Nodding you sighed

“Diego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and it’s just. I don’t think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..”

“Let you Help with the itching”

You nodded smiling at her

“He just, it’s been a lot, and we haven’t quite got the ‘normal life’ down just yet.” Lila nodded

“It’s not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesn’t make it easier is….”

“Not helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel the….rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and just….”

“Fighting each other like the before days?” You laughed nodding

“Yeah…I miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mine…”

Lila laughed looking around

“We could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. Just….maybe we’ll get used to normal eventually….” You frowned nodding

“You know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being Diego…I’m not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.” You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.

Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back

“Hello, love.” You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben

“Ahh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didn’t die, love that you still look like you want to murder us all” Ben didn’t laugh, just glared at you before sighing

“Not in the snark mood got it.” You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan

Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly

“How was work?” You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning

“Ahh I see” his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.

“People are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a car….”

“Apparently impossible if what you tell me says anything” you looked at him nodding before turning to look around

“10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked him” five laughed slightly

“Nah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is served” you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,

“Nah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracie” five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,

it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ‘normal’ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasn’t so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

********

You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay? 

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants. 

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him. 

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place. 

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out. 

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did. 

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.” 

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away. 

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on. 

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?” 

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.” 

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.” 

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can. 

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.” 

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.” 

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!” 

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!” 

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.” 

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.” 

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm. 

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva. 

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“ 

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes. 

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp. 

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“ 

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases. 

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?” 

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak. 

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!” 

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?” 

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.” 

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass. 

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis. 

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted. 

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time. 

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock. 

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.” 

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob. 

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent. 

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.” 

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!” 

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy. 

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.” 

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?” 

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.” 

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.” 

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy. 

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.” 

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are. 

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?” 

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

[lovelytsunoda]

don't go breaking my heart // lance stroll

soft moments stolen between wedding and reception

weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed reader

warnings: just fluff, a minor minor allusion to sex.

author's note: i have no idea why i have written so many wedding things for this man, but i think it's because he is the raw definition of husband material. thank you and good night lmao.

“don’t go breaking my heart…I couldn’t if I tried”

elton john and kiki dee crooned over the speakers as lances aston martin drove through the quebec countryside. it was a quiet night, stars high in the sky as he ran his thumb over his wife’s thigh.

“I love you.” he hummed, daring to look over at the love of his life as he took a corner too fast. “my darling darling wife.”

she smiled, meeting his gaze. “eyes on the road, handsome. you’ve got the rest of your life to stare at me. I love you too.”

the wedding had felt like a blur, maybe because of how wired they both felt. it should have been a smaller ceremony, in all hindsight considered.

it was an odd thing: you want to celebrate your love around all these people, but then the day arrives and suddenly you feel anxious at letting them see you pledge your heart to another.

lance and y/n had always been the quiet, soft couple. the one evoking ‘awe’s and heart eyes from the groups around them. they knew each other like the backs of their hands, better than any track map or textbook.

“enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” she hummed, nimble fingers gently easing the pins for her white lace veil out of her hair. “is it bad that I’m dreading my own reception?”

lance laughed. "nope. because i am, too. i know it's all about us and all that, but i hate being the center of attention. i would have rather had a dinner party."

she snorted. "technically this is really just a rather large dinner party."

"i mean, there's food and wine, you picked a damn good throwback playlist. dinner party." lance shrugged, taking his foot off the gas, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead.

lance had decided to take the scenic route, savoring this moment alone, this little bit of calm before the storm. before the party, the noise, the people.

just him and his wife, falling a little bit more in love with each other every day.

"if scotty throws his back out dancing to 'suicide blonde', i'm not fucking helping." y/n laughed, reaching for the stereo to flip to the offending inxs song. "i still cannot believe that this song was about kylie fucking minogue."

"there's a reason we invested in the mocktail bar."

"you know most of the guys have flasks hidden in their suit jackets, right?"

she would have preferred something low key, but her family had wanted the big party. it wasn't all bad. she got to pick the food (pasta bar, anybody?), the drinks, the decorations, the music. she'd made a throwback playlist of all her favorite happy songs, all the ones that made her feel alive, giddy and in love, ranging from inxs to def leppard to kesha.

she'd waited twenty-five years for this moment, so why was she suddenly getting this bad feeling about going to the party that followed?

the event venue slowly came into view over the distance, the white brick building with it's pillars and vintage charm, the walkway to the door lit up with fairy lights. the small parking lot was already almost full, the rest of the guests waiting inside for the happy couple. lance parked his car furthest from the door, but kept the engine running.

he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "we can turn around and drive away." he was dead serious when he looked over at her. "i'm serious, we can run and go get burgers and milkshakes and see a movie and then go back to the hotel and not sleep a minute because we are too busy having the goofiest, most romantic sex of our lives. i just want you to be comfortable."

"i know. and that's why i love you so much, lance." she sighed, a smile blooming on her face. "but our friends are in there. our parents are in there. hell, your dad is probably trying to sell my dad on buying a time share villa in biarritz."

lance laughed, leaning over the center console to kiss her forehead. "whenever you want to leave, you just tell me. if you need a minute to yourself, just shoot me a text message and i'll come and find you. or don't, if you just want a walk in total solitude. i'll probably need one of those at some point, too."

"i knew there was a reason i married you." she joked, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. "i love you to the moon and back, lance."

"you wanna go inside?"

"we might as well."

lance took his seatbelt off, shutting off the car and sliding out of the driver's door. her dramatically slid across the hood, earning a laugh from his wife as he skipped towards her door, opening it for her before extending a hand for her to take.

"beautiful girl, love of my life, may i help you out of this shockingly low car?"

she laughed, slipping one of her hands into his warm one. "yes, my beautiful husband. yes, you may."

she stepped out of the car, the hem of her white silk dress dusting the gravel in the parking lot. a breeze ran through the area, making the hair on the backs of her arms stand up.

"love, you're shivering." lance said softly, slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she put her arms through the sleeves, wrapping her arms fully around her husband. "i love you."

"i love you, too." she took a minute to stand there, her nose in his dress shirt, breathing in his cologne. bath and body works, today. she liked that. something playful and romantic instead of the heavy, stinging designer scents he usually wore.

"we should go inside." he whispered, their bodies swaying together in the silence, her skin warm against his.

"or we could stay out here just a little longer."

and who was he to argue with that?

"you get five more minutes. i'm starting to get hungry and the pasta bar has my name written all over it."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @diorleclerc @httpiastri @silverstonesainz @lorarri @twinkodium

[roostersbby69]

0.3 For old times sake

Summary: Bradley hasn’t gotten any action with his wife. They didn’t have kids, not because of their jobs, but because she just didn’t want to anymore. Bradley had a very high sex drive, and his maid that his wife hired might just give him a memory refresh of how good sex is.

Warnings: age gap (reader is 25, Bradley is 36), alcohol, language

Word count: too dang many

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x maid!reader

For old times sake masterlist. Full masterlist.

“I don’t see why it’s a problem, Isabelle.” Bradley groaned as he shoved his face in his hands on the edge of the bed.

“It’s because it gets fucking tiring, you always asking me to have sex.” She got up and crossed her arms over her chest.

Pilates was really working on her, her arms became more toned, her abs more defined, and her shoulders wider.

“Is it a crime to want to have sex with my wife?” He stood up now, getting angrier and angrier by the second. This was the third time this week he’s tried to pursue something with her. And nothing has gotten anywhere.

“No, but it should be a crime to want to do it every fucking night.” She scoffed and made her way to the bathroom.

All he wanted was some action, anything would do, a handjob, some head, hell even a kiss on the cheek would make him cum at this point.

He huffed and stormed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, he grabbed a beer and cracked it open. His face was hot as it traveled down to his neck, he grabbed his phone and walked out to the porch to make a phone call.

He pressed the contact he was looking for and placed the phone to his ear.

“What’s up?” A female voice came from the other end.

“I’m not sure why I called, I just need someone to listen.” He beat himself up for being so vulnerable right now.

She sighed, “Go on, what did she do this time?”

“She doesn’t want to do anything with me.” Bradley tried to make it PG for her.

“What do you mean, Rooster?”

“Anything, in bed.” He almost muttered the last part, shamefully.

He expected Natasha to throw out an ‘Ew’ or a ‘gross’ but this time she didn’t, “Rooster, dump her.”

“I can’t, Nat, we’re married.”

“Divorce her.” She corrected herself, “All women want is sex, at least thats what my girlfriend tells me, I don’t know man maybe you’re just getting old.”

“Natasha, I didn’t call to get a sex education lesson,” He ran his hand along his face, “She’s always been like this, we used to be physical but, somethings changes. Ever since she got these new friends, this new job and started a stupid workout class. She just doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Phoenix sighed from the other end, “I don’t know what to tell you Bradley, other than divorce her or have a good talk with her.”

“She even hired this maid…” oops, didnt mean to blurt that out.

“A maid?” Nat questioned, “You mean like an old lady who goes around and cleans your house?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, Nat, a maid that destroys the house. Yes a maid that cleans the house.���

“Damn, is she hot?”

Bradley shouldn’t be talking about this. Not while his wife was in the house.

“Yes.” Too late now.

“Damn, Bradshaw. You’re a dead man.” She laughed humorously.

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head and sighed.

-

Turns out, Isabelle ran out of the house after their argument and went to her dumb class that she goes to all the time.

So Bradley didn’t see why it wasn’t okay for him to go to the Hard Deck tonight for a couple of drinks and his friends.

He pulled up in the parking lot and turned the engine off. He grabbed his wallet and made his way to the front door which was open and buzzing with people and music.

The first thing he saw was his friends shooting pool and handing out beers to each other.

This already lifted his mood as he made his way towards them and folded his sunglasses on his shirt.

“Rooster!” Coyote hollered across the room and got Bradley’s attention, Bradley made his way to him and shook his hand, “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Yeah, just thought I’d drop by.” He nodded and smiled at Nat who was shooting pool.

She was the only person who knew exactly why he “dropped by”.

“Nice to see you again.” She looked to him then back to the pool table. She squinted her eyes then jabbed the ball with the stick and made it into the pocket.

“You too, Nat.” He walked over to Fanboy who was talking to Bob.

“Bradshaw!” He patted Bradleys shoulder and.

“Hey, guys.” He sat down at the table with them and watched the rest of the team mess around.

Hangman walked towards them, juggling three beers in his hand, and smirked once he saw Bradley.

“Here, you look like you need one of these.” He slid a bottle to bradley.

“Thanks.” Bradley mumbled and took a sip of it. He really did need one.

“There’s this super hot chick I might bring home tonight.” Hangman bragged and jerked a thumb back towards the bar.

“Who is it?” Fanboy asked, looking over Hangman’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of said girl.

“The cute chick in the blue sundress.” Hangman said as he handed out the beers and took one for himself.

Out of curiosity, Bradley peered behind his shoulder to see the “blue sundress” girl. His eyes widened once he noticed who it was.

-

“A spicy margarita, please.” You took out your wallet and slid your ID to the bartender. She nodded and took it before approving it and giving it back to you.

“So, you come here often?” A guy in a khaki uniform asked as he stood next to you with a smile on his face.

“Um, no, not really. I’m too busy with school and a job.”

He nodded, “You’re in school?”

“Yeah, on my last year of college.” You nodded.

He smirked, he liked school girls. Penny slid his beers to him and told him that these were his last ones for the night. She seemed like she was playing with him but he winked at her and said ‘no promises’.

-

“Some school chick.” Hangman bragged, “Might do a little role play, ill be the student shes tutoring and shell be the naughty teacher who gives me a lesson.” He smirked as Fanboy ‘oohed’.

Bradleys Jaw clenched as he listened to them talk about you with such filth. But he didn’t say anything, to save his reputation.

“You’ve been awful quiet, Rooster.” Bob pitched in as he noticed Bradley staring at you.

Bradley averted his eyes from your figure and turned to Bob who had gotten everyone’s attention on him. Bradley cleared his throat, “Just, had a long day.”

Bob just simply nodded and dropped the subject, and Bradley was thankful for that.

He wanted to walk up to you since you were sitting by yourself, but he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. He had a damn wife, a shitty one at that.

He shook his head and muttered a soft, “Fuck it.” Before getting up and making his way towards you.

You sat staring down at your drink as the ice shifted causing bubbles to rise to the top. You had finished one already and were on your second one when a man sat down next to you.

“Hey, stranger.” He said. You recognized that voice, you turned your head to him and your face went red as you realized who it was that was sitting by you.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Bradshaw.” You slid your drink behind your purse and widened your eyes.

He laughed at your shyness, “Don’t stress, I’m here for the same thing you are.” He really wasn’t here for that reason, he was here because of his wife. And he was sure you didn’t have a wife.

“I’m so sorry.” You scrambled as you revealed your drink once again.

“Don’t be, you’re old enough to drink, I don’t see the problem.” He shook his head and sipped his beer.

“I didn’t know you came here.” Your eyes never left his broad frame as his elbows rested against the bar top and his shirt was snug against his biceps.

“I could say the same things about you.” He turned to you and smirked.

“I don’t usually come here, I just wanted a drink tonight.” You shrugged and swirled your drink with its straw.

“No problem with that.” He shrugged and turned to face forward again.

“How’s Mrs. Bradshaw?” You asked and noticed as his jaw clenched and his mustache twitched.

“She’s good.” Bradley nodded and decided not to share too much.

“She doesn’t come here?” You asked as you sipped your drink.

He shook his head and looked down at his bottle, “No, she doesn’t really like this place. Not fancy enough or something.”

You nodded and set your glass down after you finished a long sip, “It’s the only place I can afford.” You laughed.

He snorted, “Yeah, same here.” He looked over to you and noticed your cup was now empty. “You want another one of those?” He pointed his bottle towards your cup.

You raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

He smirked back, “Maybe.”

“Mr. Bradshaw.” You teased and smiled, Penny came over with a smile on her face as she took your glass.

“Another one, dear?”

“Please.” You nodded your head.

Bradley smiled as he watched you play with your bracelet on your wrist, he felt awful for acting like this towards another woman. His mother always taught him to be respectful of women. But she also taught him to give the same energy back that they gave him.

“You don’t really look the type to drink.” He looked forwards and lifted his bottle to his lips.

“And you don’t look the type to sit by a lonely girl at a bar when you have a wife.” You teased and smirked at him.

Shit. He had been caught. “It’s complicated.” He mumbled and quickly finished his beer. He probably shouldn’t have said that, yet he did anyways. He decided to blame it on the alcohol.

“Really?” You turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

He nodded and hummed.

“How come?” You pushed and almost regretted it immediately.

“She doesn’t like to do anything in bed.” He shrugged and thanked penny once she brought your drinks out.

You almost choked on air at his blunt statement, “All women want to do stuff in bed.”

Maybe what Nat said was true. Maybe something was up with Isabelle. And it wasn’t just him that was causing it.

“Oh really? And how do you know that?” He chuckled as your face went red and you tried to hide it behind your cup as you brought it up to your lips.

“Because I’m a woman.” You shrugged and tried to hold back a smile.

He hummed and went back to his beer, he felt his dick tightening in his jeans as he caught sight of your thighs exposed from your short sundress, your breasts were deliciously on display and it made his mouth water.

His shirt clung to his biceps and you noticed the veins running up his hands as they held onto his beer bottle. You knew this was wrong, thinking about him like this. He has a wife. But you couldn’t help but admire him, the way his mustache was neatly trimmed, his brown eyes that seemed lighter with the lights over the two of you, his jeans that hugged his big thighs, and his lips that curved up into a smile every now and then as you talked.

This was wrong, but yet you found yourself doing the things you knew you shouldn’t.

And it was exhilarating.

—————————————————————

Authors note: They’re getting closerr. This is going to be good!

[twosides--samecoin]

Plz I’m begging, can you give me an enlightenment of what a modern Maccready would wear. I’m dying to style him modernly and have no clue what he’d wear 🙂‍↕️

Hey gamer, thanks for the ask!

RJ grew up in Little Lamplight. The real life version is Luray Caverns, nestled 75 miles away from DC and protected by Shenandoah State Park and George Washington National Forest. I grew up in a town with a teen pregnancy problem where people wore RealTree Camo to prom. I now live a couple hours from Luray, so I feel Modern RJ is someone who I could have gone to high school with.

He grew up country as fuck - there's not an ounce of city slicker in RJ. All the street smarts he has is because he was observant enough to earn them. When he says he's from DC, it's because he knows it's the closest city he grew up near that anyone in Boston's gonna recognize. His fashion can't be bought in Georgetown or the Prudential Center, unless the trend of the day is blue collar chic being sold to the rich.

Modern RJ was the kind of country kid who's teenage uniform was a green flannel and a Master of Puppets Metallica shirt. He was the kind of scrawny where he was 130 pounds soaking wet and 2% body fat and wore the same blue jeans from ages 14 through 17. His second fave shirt featured Iron Maiden's Live After Death.

He cherished them; like many country kids who feel a bit different from their peers, he clung to his band shirts. You wouldn't catch him dead in Carhartt and RealTree unless he literally died while hunting. Not that he wasn't proud of his friends, or ashamed of where he was from - he just dreamed of getting out. Band shirts represented something bigger, a Great Beyond; a world he wanted to travel, a life he was priced out of living as an orphan from Virginia.

Buying clothes is not something RJ enjoys - he's a single dad and feels a level of guilt attached with spending money on himself, knowing how much grocery money would be wasted on a leather jacket and pair of jeans (speaking of groceries, RJ has a family of three to feed - Duncan insisted they keep that damn German Shepherd who followed RJ home from his mechanic shift at the Red Rocket). He's still driving the same red rusted-to-fuck '96 Chevy Silverado that he kissed Lucy in for the first time, the same one that drove them out of Virginia. Maintains it himself since he can get the parts at cost.

Though he's frugal, Modern RJ is picky about his fashion. His closet isn't one that features abundance. His clothing is utilitarian; earth tones in a range of faded browns and greens, duck canvas, twill denims with no stretch. A heavy mechanic jumpsuit for work. The coolest colours he wears are grey thermal shirts and a blue shearling jacket when in colder weather. There's an olive green jacket he likes in the springtime. He prefers a tough, protective pair of leather boots for everyday footwear. For casual shoes; given the choice between Chuck Taylors and Vans, he'd wear whichever was on sale, but preferably the Chucks.

He has a few long sleeve button-downs out of an eye-rolling necessity for job interviews. He hates wearing ties and has never owned a suit. Before she died, Lucy gifted him a brown shearling leather jacket to wear on his motorcycle.

He's most comfortable wearing his old green flannel and band shirts. Otherwise, he can be found wearing a white t-shirt and blue Levi's every now and then - Lucy always liked Bruce Springsteen.

When you grow up can't-rub-two-pennies-together poor, it means you appreciate the material things in a different kind of way. RJ's clothing is all about emotional comfort and memories; he's afraid to let go.

I loved writing this! Thanks for sending me the ask, anon! The people demand my RJ brainrot and I aim to please <3 Thanks again & have a great day :)

BONUS: An outfit mod I am working on for RJ!

[crispy-dib]

Tell me everything about your oc NOW !!!!!!!!!!!!!! haha jk, ,,,,,, unless ?

Because tumblr was mean and kicked me out here’s an image of the first lil blurb I wrote

CONTINUING ON THOUGH!

Currently Eli’s main trials is 1 of his very own and 2 MK events (will elaborate further later), but in events where multiple PA’s can be in the same area (like Prime Time, any other events like that in the past I may have missed due to just getting the game recently lol) he will automatically be placed alongside Franco Barbi - typically in The Docks, but he has attended The Fun Park a few times. He is never found in The Orphanage or The Police Station.

As for Eli’s actual past? What brought him to Project Lathe? It’s a long story.

Let’s go back to the very beginning.

Eli, as he’s known, is a multidimensional being that I created in order to have a baseline sona for fictional universes. He started back in 2022 as a Sonic OC, and has just grown ever since.

He was born from a quasar and searches the multiverse for companionship and to study life on planets.

His consciousness splits upon every universe (meaning that only this version of it is present in the universe).

Only one can exist per dimension, so there is only one Elisheva for every fictional world.

and this is where we bring it back to Outlast.

Upon traversing to this world in New York, Elisheva finds he can’t achieve his regular form. He’s human in this world, against his will. Spoiler alert! that’s due to Murkoff fuckery.

For reference: Eli is usually in the appearance of an anthropomorphic rabbit because again, thats how he began (a sonic oc.) Tosses these at ya!

He attempts to live a normal life in the Outlast world, despite being SO out of his element. This doesn’t really go well.

Being a human version of himself, and in the 1930s-50s where he grows up in New York…things aren’t…great.

Firstly those scars? Those aren’t there. He grows into “a woman”. With all the societal pressures of being an adult in the 50s, he has to perform femininity to an incredulous degree. Or, he should.

He refuses. Living as himself rather than the fraudulent woman people around him wishes him to be. What used to be friends are now enemies, and the world begins to crumble beneath him.

On top of that, I give him my epilepsy in EVERY world, so he’s super fucked in that stance. ADA didn’t pass until the 1990s, and there was no goddamn way people would accommodate for him.

Slowly being stripped of his personhood, he loses himself. And if he can’t look the way he truly is, and if he cannot be helped without death, then death it shall be.

He begins an impressive murder spree, the mask fused to his face being the flesh of his victims. The only reason Clyde Perry isn’t harmed from attempting to find him is because Elisheva already almost took himself out.

Clyde finds him half dead bleeding from…it’d be easier to name where he WASN’T bleeding from, but the most shocking part to many was his chest. He lopped parts of it off (an actually written moment of my own intrusive/impulsive thoughts if I had no restraint)

So Eli is taken to Sinyala without much of a hitch and slight reconstruction on his breasts, arms, legs- really everywhere but his face, which, of course, now bore the mask.

^ A transcription of an interview :)

He’s named Project Patchwork after the mask and Patchwork Rabbit for the same reason.

I and others have this headcanon of The Prime Assets having their own holding rooms at Sinyala - and I know it’s cliché, but at first Eli is held WITH Franco in an effort to calm the both of them. Franco needs a Mommy and Eli needs a damn friend. I’m not sure if I do want them to separate their rooms, but if they ever do it’ll just add more interesting things to their dynamic. They will EVENTUALLY become an item, but it takes a very long time.

Eli’s Trial is called “Reform the Formless”, and it takes place on The Campsite.

His MK Challenges are “Evacuate The Grounds” and “Drown the Counselor”

RTF has tasks that builds to you eventually rushing out with mannequin “children” and putting them into a cart, pushing them to safety. Eli will try to protect these children. This is a 45 minute trial.

“Taking away the bonds that which the cow has with her calf is how we create more cows. More milk. More money. Take these lost cows from their mother. Take them. Reform them. And we will let you out.”

ETG is a shorter version, where you pretty much only take the kids out, versus everything else in the made up trial (which includes gaining access to the grounds through summer camp-like quests) this is a 15 minute trial.

DTC is actually a lot like Vindicate The Guilty or Cleanse The Orphans in the sense of ya need keys to activate a thing to kill a man. This time its boat keys and a “dunk the ___” minigame to complete the trial. 15 minute trial

Eli tends to kill using only his teeth and nails as well as general brute force. He can also pick up things like bricks and bottles to throw at you, but he much prefers the former.

Uhh that’s all I have. If you read this far I’m giving you a kiss on the forehead and hugs (with consent of course)

[egg-emperor]

Been rereading some IDW and I wanted to compile my favorite very evil and badass things Eggman has done so far and hope to see much more of in the future:

When he ordered for Mimic to kill the Diamond Cutters (most members are just teens!)

and then he threatened Mimic to finish the job when he finds out Whisper got away in a way that makes me 😳😳😳

When he was cruelly toying around with poor critters during the testing of the Metal Virus and loving it, which is a great look into how he treats the animals when they're in his grasp that we don't usually get to see.

When he went back to spit in the face of the people of Windmill Village that took him in as Tinker by pouring the virus goop all over it while saying "no good deed goes unpunished". Ungrateful bastard being an asshole and loving it, gleefully making them regret being foolish enough to give him a chance.

When Starline dared to try to take out Eggman's prey that's for him to beat and destroy alone after proving his power and superiority. I love it mostly for the way he grabbed Starline's neck with just a finger or two and slammed him against the glass hard enough to crack it as the first thrilling display of his physical strength 😍

The way he likes making toys and once again combines a fun hobby with evil as he models his awesome creations and uses them to plan and figure out battle plans and strategies

Plus the reveal of how Eggman made the figurine of Starline a robot, hinting at how he was always either replaceable and nothing more than an underling for him to use just like all his other lackeys

When he fires Starline as a fine example of him throwing his lackeys away when he's finally had it and no longer needs them and just how harsh he is when they disobey his orders

When he attempted to manipulate Sonic to plant a seed of doubt and make him feel guilt for the tragedies of the metal virus. I love the gorgeous sly smirk on that bastard's face 💜

When he grabbed his gun like "oh yeah?" and tried to shoot Tails

The way he was doing evil VR gaming in his evil simulated world, as yet another great way for him to combine a fun hobby with his diabolical schemes!

When he first met Belle as his real self and was just like "pfft what makes your precious Tinker as good as me when I can do stuff like THIS?" *Shows her his fucked up tower concept*

When he talked a bit about his delightfully cute but twisted and disturbing reasons behind his theme parks, capturing everything I love about how admiringly charismatic and passionate he is but so messed up about it at once!

When he fought Starline in the glorious EGG EMPEROR! And the great moment where he said Starline never really had a place of co emperor alongside him because it's all or nothing for him, the world belongs to him alone and nobody else! He said so much of exactly what I've been saying this whole time while in the mech behind my username. I was so happy 💕

The beautiful creepy silhouette Egg and he way he revealed that Starline has been outsmarted and absolutely dominates him

and the way he absolutely fucked Starline up with an epic display of his strength that makes me swoon 😍💖💜💘💗💕

then walked away knowing everything was collapsing and left Starline to his doom, then just announced it like "lol he's dead- so anyway"

Eggman beat him and it killed his will to go on, then he left him as everything caved in which finished him off. Therefore he killed him, he knowingly had direct causation without a care and I consider it as part of his body count.

When he tried to shoot Surge and then grabbed and threw her- while in his awesome Eggwalker too! 💜💕💗

When he praised Starline but only after he was dead and gone, so he could use it to praise and prove himself as superior by the way Starline is still a bested enemy that he defeated despite this. God damn, that's cold and selfishly egotistical… My man!!! 🥰

And everything about Scrapnik Island with it exploring how he's carelessly thrown away so many of his robots and the impact it has on them all- especially the closer look into how much it devastated Mecha Sonic to go from his greatest creation to abandoned trash.

All these moments bring me great joy and feel like the Eggman I know and love in the games too, I adore his exciting evil and badassery when he gets a piece of the action, proves his skills and strength, and reminds everyone why he's the best!!! 🥰💜

When he's treated well, written with care, and given some of the focus he deserves, he can be fantastic in this comic. His characterization has really been looking up lately, he just really deserves more of a time to shine now as it's been five years and he still hasn't actually been the main villain of a big arc without some twist involving others taking the spotlight. I really hope he gets his turn to really shine in that spotlight for much longer soon!

[emeraldbabygirl]

I feel like we need a shaman, not a priest but a shaman to come out here and bless the property. Not everyone around us even tho the land around us belonged to my mum’s relatives but those relatives are either dead and an assholes lives on their land or they’re moving or have moved. Like this land was ours, so many of the properties were given to my mum and her siblings or cousins as gifts on their 21st birthday and it’s all since been sold. We were the first once out here, we were out here when it was all just trees except my mum’s uncle’s house which got torn down and all the debris was pushed into our yard and what is now Bob’s yard and no I don’t care about privacy for assholes I will call them by their name as they deserve to be called out idc but then they built a house and the past two neighbors that have lived in the house behind us are putting us through hell. I believe the spirit of my mum’s uncle or the land was haunted and it’s possessed the bitch out back. I am being serious cause she was nice to us for 13 years but Bob fed her lies about who knows what and she believed them and faked being nice to us which pisses me off. Anyway I feel like the property, the last one in the family needs to be cleansed while we still have it like Bob is threatening to cut my bedroom out to put up his fence after he already took our yard the first time and now he’s threatening to do it again as if it was our fault the contractor fucked up the property lines and now we are suffering from all around us. Literally the whole neighborhood the whole street and down the block are on Suzy q’s side and it’s fucked up cause she started it and now she’s dragging neighbors into it when it ain’t none of their damn business. I just want the negative energy in the house on property to go away and cleanse out 10 feet of the drive that is our property but because of the idiots that lived behind us before they tricked my mum into a stupid easement and this bitch is telling everyone the whole shared driveway is hers so her and all her stupid friends go 80 down it and they park on our property and do what they want cause she said they could because she thinks she can do whatever she wants and say whatever and everyone around here believes her a backs her up. I think she’s evil and possessed by the Lawson’s the people that moved in behind us after us. We were here first and our property and home is being threatened by people who came way after us. Bob will never understand how expensive it would be to move the house, which is a mobile home on a concrete foundation, and the property line. We’d have to uproot the septic and all kinds of shit. He wants to move but “can’t because of the property line” which is bullshit he could literally pack up his shit and leave and I wish him and Suzanne fucking would but everyone loves her cause she’s the cake lady who poisons people’s food and can’t cook or do anything for herself and blah blah blah I hate our neighbors. Who the fuck threatens someone over something we had nothing to do with and Bob is still holding a grudge against shit my father caused when he hasn’t even been here for 10 fucking years like touchy much?

Long story short I want someone to come bless and cleanse the house and property. If we were rich I’d buy them both out and tear down the houses and have it be all land and surround by one big fence all around the three properties. Or just keep the houses and cleanse the properties and my siblings could live in the houses, there’s a lot of possibilities but we are poor and we might, I might lose my bedroom “if we can’t be nice to suzannne” which is bullshit cause she’s not nice to us. I’m still so pissed off about this whole situation I just want her and Bob gone and we can get some real neighbors who act neighborly.

Anyway just a rant cause idk I can’t sleep and I want to go outside when they sleep and bang pots and pans together cause they make noises when my siblings and I try to sleep. They’re so disgusting and disrespectful and mean and ugh and UGH I HATE THEM. At least my father fucked off and left us alone after awhile, she can’t even do that she keeps harassing us and always films us when we’re on our own property like she literally sent us this nasty text after she yelled at us cause we told her her friends can’t park on our property and she needs to stop feeding my dogs

She also pried the wires in the fence open so she could feed my dogs and that’s why they never ate and I couldn’t put them in the pen at night cause they were all riled up and shit. And the driveway again is literally 30 feet hers and 10 feet ours and if she wants to do anything to it like putting gravel like she just did she HAS to ask us first and she fucking didn’t cause she thinks the whole driveway is hers. All because we told her no twice she’s been an absolute cunt because she’s so used to everyone kissing her ass. Bob’s so far up her ass he’s kissing the back of her tongue. I just hate that she thinks she can be mean and and cunt to us and then everyone else believes she’s wouldn’t hurt and fly. She would literally shoot a fly she’s crazy and now she’s got everyone in the neighborhood on her side even tho she’s fucking wrong ugh. Sorry for the rant this has been bothering me for a week. I think she needs an exorcism or the looney bin tbh

[mommalosthermind]

Gonna do that thing where I rant about how other people confuse the shit out of me for a sec-

Because, honestly, is it a new thing? To be this up in everyone’s parenting? OR. Have i managed to mostly avoid this (from strangers. Family I’ve just. Stopped talking to.) by not having any friends as a kid and then also only recently being tricked into talking to neighbors by my Extreme Golden Retriever of a youngest child? I do not fucking get it.

*no*, mom up the street, I would NOT like to get a watch like your kid has, I do not care that it’s only $10/m on your phone plan. I do not need more bills, for starters!! I have three kids, you think i should be dropping 30/m? On a watch that’s more phone than watch? Girlie, they do not HAVE phones for a fucking reason. Several reasons. Oh, it’s for your peace of mind. Right. Well. Here’s a piece of mine:

I do not need to be strapping an expensive piece of tech onto my black hole of a kid. My son’s bedroom door has a hole large enough for a toddler to crawl through. I *know* he will break the damn thing if it’s not lost within 12 hours. And maybe it’s just me but buying something with the SOLE PURPOSE OF CONSTANTLY SPYING ON MY KID seems like a BAD FUCKING PRECEDENT actually!!

“But he’s only 11!! What if he gets kidnapped! Or hit by a truck! Or lost! Or abducted by aliens!!”

Baby girl you watch too many cop shows. There’s no huge spike in violence, there’s better reporting and fear-mongering coverage. Do you think everyone is out to get you, specifically, because you watch too many cop shows, or because you’re so deep in your weird little cult that the brown kid across the street is the enemy despite being a grand ten years old?

My kid is just as safe—is actually more safe than I was as a kid, because a decent chunk of my hill town life I was on what amounted to a highway. That i was crossing regularly. By myself. Sometimes on a bike, to go read at the reservoir, or the river, or the school. Alone. By my self!! Where no one knew where I was because that was the entire point!! OH! And sometimes!! Not willingly at all!! Because when the fucking dogs got out I would stick my arm through the collar and get my ass dragged to the cemetery because there was no way my 80lb ass was stopping the nearly 300lb Great Dane that wanted to hang out with the birds across the highway but if I wasn’t with the damn dog when the neighbors alerted my mother I would be so very unbelievably dead. Anyway. I am not dead. I was not spied on by anything other than neighbors and the going-to-work traffic that became to used to watching me get dragged by dogs that they would just. Drive to my mother’s work and be like yo, your kid is flapping in the wind behind Hercules again.

I had to deal with MOOSE. I had to haul ass into the house because a mama bear wanted her kids to play on my swing set. I had to cross four fucking lanes of traffic to get to the park. I did not get a cellphone until I was sixteen, driving, and had a job, and even then it was because my mother gave me the first one because, and I quote, “when your ass makes a wrong turn and ends up in canada, you should maybe tell me.”

My youngest! Is wandering around the same three fucking self-contained streets! No one even comes down here unless they live here because there is nowhere to go. This is hilariously the most insulated place I have ever lived and I hate it so much because I can see into about eight different house from my backyard. I feel so watched all the time. Literally what do you think is going to happen if you don’t have a constant bead on your kid other than your kid having serious issues as an adult.

ANYWAY. That got away from me. The POINT. I am not making at all here is that I do not understand the need to be constantly spying on your kids in the name of safety. I don’t care how often you make sideways comments about how I’m a bad, neglectful parent. Especially from a woman who taught her kid that ‘you’re a good Christian’ is the highest compliment, and the word ‘lesbian’ is a heinous curse word punishable by like, death, or something.

I hate that I can’t exist anywhere in the world without being spied on or recorded, why the fuck would I normalize that for my kids who are independent people who deserve privacy and the right to learn how to be a person WITHOUT ME hovering?

Let! The kid! Roam! He’s got a watch! It tells the fucking time! He knows when to be home! And he’s in his own neighborhood, making friends and learning how to be something that isn’t me!

[blindrapture]

SATURDAY JUNE 4TH, 2011 (SLCEM)

12:06 AM Well, here we go. Into the depths of the night, in a country whose language I don’t even remotely speak.

12:14 AM It’s pretty tonight. Sure, red like it has been for weeks now, but it’s still pretty.

1:49 AM I’ve made it through “100 Bottles of Paracetamol on the Wall.” Not there yet.

3:01 AM Holy shit, no way. Fucking spidercat. This one’s fucking feral. Fast. I could barely see it move, but I’d recognize those demonic chirps anywhere. Got my crowbar ready. It’s time to do this shit like Gordon fucking Freeman.

3:04 AM EAT SHIT AND DIE

3:05 AM Fucker’s dead. I don’t feel barbaric anymore. Not one bit. Let’s keep moving.

3:13 AM ….motherfucking yes, there’s a car.

3:16 AM This bastard works. Fuck yes.

4:42 AM Berga.

4:45 AM Phil Collins has such a sexy voice. ..sorry, I’m listening to music. :D

4:47 AM D’accord, parked this car, now where am I gonna go? I guess I’ll look around. I mean, how many different people can there be here?

4:53 AM Dear sweet fhqwghads, the Cheat is to the limit. There’s gotta be at least twenty people here in this hotel, completely normal people. Nobody’s noticing me, though, despite my white outfit. These people are all wearing festive clothing.

5:15 AM I was able to find someone who spoke English. He told me this was the local meeting place for the SLCEM Brigada. That’s, uh.. well, it’s something in Spanish. And then “Brigade.” He says his name is Tony Marcado. Says the SLCEMs are gathering for a group meeting tonight. He says many more will be here, and it still won’t even be a quarter of the total number of SLCEMs in Spain. I didn’t realize this many people were surviving and gathering in places like this. It’s pretty heartwarming, a true testament to human will. ;w; Tony says I should rest up for today. The meeting’s gonna be important, and they’ll need all the help they can get with what they have planned. I asked if he knew where Tony Ferdinando was. He says, if he’s not here now, he’ll definitely be here for the meeting. He says Ferdinando’s an important guy. Great. And I have to “convert” him.

5:32 AM Hotel room, oh boy! I love these things. And god, am I knackered. Time for rest, Jordy boy.

1:58 PM I dreamt of a door. Just a door. No scenery, no rooms, just a door. And me. I tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t locked. It just didn’t want to open. I heard a door rattle and then I woke up to find that was someone coming into my room. It’s Marcado. He says his job is to make sure everyone knows about the meeting, so he came in to make sure I was going tonight. 6 PM, he said.

2:22 PM Hot damn, this place has a CD player.

2:30 PM Hear them chanting:"We excavate souls" And taste the lightning Bolting down the deep See the masses See them decompose As up the current Something rides the light “We Excavate” was my all-time favourite metal song for a really long time, you know. Pure fucking Sunsetters classic.

5:13 PM Wow, I just took a nap. What the fuck, so soon after sleeping?

5:41 PM Heading to the lobby now. The meeting’s soon.

5:53 PM Oh my god, there are a lot of people here. It’s hard to move. …nobody showers in the apocalypse. At least I’m not alone in that. But wow, you don’t really notice it until you’re “Pakt Like Sardines in a Tin Can,” to put it one way.

6:00 PM Some guy’s standing on a chair. I think he’s the one giving a speech. Fuck, I just realized I’m in Spain. I can’t understand a word he’s saying.

6:24 PM I think I heard something about dildos.

6:35 PM Okay, now I’m sure he mentioned something about “That buffoon in the white.” I heard “el bufon blanco.” The fuck, just ‘cause I can’t speak your language doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings, guys. ._.

6:43 PM I heard “el bufon blanco” again. Are they actually talking about me? I get the feeling they might not be.

6:50 PM Okay, the meeting’s over. I’m gonna see if Marcado can fill me in on what was said.

7:13 PM So apparently, the SLCEMs have some big attack planned. I asked against whom, he said “fear.” The fuck, I know, right? So he explained that we’re sending a messenger tomorrow to the next town over, Manresa, where he’ll let the SLCEM Brigada there know that this base here is go for the attack. It’s standard procedures, basically. Gotta let the others know that we’re ready, gotta synchronize the attack. So yeah. Then I asked if Ferdinando was here yet. He said he was running late; someone had heard from him. Says he’ll be here tomorrow, no doubt. Great. I’m going back to bed; I’ve been so tired lately.

7:26 PM There’s some pretty young folk here. I just saw a kid who had to be no older than eight.

9:41 PM Someone’s knocking on the door.

9:42 PM It’s that young kid I saw. He said he was too cold, so I said he could come in; this room’s got towels. He didn’t come in, just ran away. …that kid was speaking English.

11:00 PM I haven’t gone to sleep yet. I’ve just been.. I dunno. Looking out at the sky. It’s red, getting dark red. I see the Thunderbirds flying around out there, and I occasionally see ‘lightning’ off in the distance. The world has gotten so quiet. It’s only been two weeks, and the world’s gotten absolutely silent. It seems like the world will never be the same again, and all we can really do is just gather in groups and hope Mistress doesn’t crash our parties.

11:11 PM I wish something good would happen.

(Attached: “Ah, 'We Excavate.’ That was a song written by Degan Allen, actually, rather than Blackwood who usually writes the lyrics. I think he said something about it being based on a dream he had? Some tower of flesh buried at the bottom of the sea, during a transitional World Flood. Lightning strikes the tower, and some flesh rides the lightning up, and this is how God eats, or something. We all had Flood dreams during that time, as we'd just finished Summer Sucks which of course ends with a great era-ending flood. Excavate was a time of dreams and of jazzy jams. I feel a lot of nostalgia for those days now.”)

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

[ltbarnes]

Resurrection Chapter I

Summary: Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Pairing: brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: violence, language, mentions of death of family members and murder, talk of trauma and injuries, blood

A/N: first chapter!! i really recommend that you read the prologue before this though, since a lot of background information is revealed about Bucky and what happened prior to this chapter. makes it all easier in the future <3 he’s a real grump in the beginning but bare with him!! it’s going to get soft and protective!! also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list just write to me!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

"Where the fuck did you put my holster?!" a voice calls out, booming through the space, forcing hairs to stand up straight and birds to flee the sky. "Barnes! I will cut off your dick and make fucking tartar out of it!"

It's hard to understand for some that so much violence can be packed into such a small figure. For many Natasha Romanoff is hard to understand in her entirety, but Bucky thinks it's so inevitably obvious. Of course that little redhead is the one running around killing Stark's enemies and making the murder scene look like a piece of art pulled out of Musée D'Orsay.

And it was a long time ago that he understood that the words spilling out of her mouth don't actually mean anything. Not when it comes to him, or Pietro or Wanda or Clint or Yelena. Bleeding scratches, purple bruises that last for weeks and sprained ankles come with the friendship—but his dick will be in behold for the foreseeable future, at least.

The holster is thrown at her face a dozen of seconds later, the usual indifferent expression stuck on Bucky's face. He doesn't acknowledge her anymore than that, she doesn't say anything in response. A mission is waiting for them just around the corner and small talk has no space in the hour before something like that.

Like so many times before, he weaves the shoelaces across and straight over his combat boots that are in desperate need of a wash. He's had them ever since his days in the military. It's something Sam gives him shit for—that he's somehow trying to relive his days as a sergeant—but the birdbrain doesn't know how damn practical they are while breaking noses and smashing in people's heads.

"What did this one do?" Bucky mutters, throwing the door open while stomping over towards the sleek black car parked on the other side of the street. Stark really needs to realize that the expensive cars he throws around to his henchmen need to be deep-cleaned after each use. Blood soaks the seats to their very core, stains the windows and console and steering wheel.

"Fucking spy. Caught selling intel about our shipments to Banner," Natasha answers, ripping the car door open before sliding into the passenger seat.

Bucky grunts, shaking his head to rid himself of the strands hanging over his eyes. The car quietly comes to life, taking the two of them away on the streets with one of Bucky's hands on the wheel.

Him and Natasha never talk particularly much. Not that he has anything against her—in contrary to that, actually—but there's just not anything to be said. They can read each other with only a breath, a flick of their hand, a mannerism. Both of them have been forced and molded into picking up on every little detail surrounding them through the years. It's merely a habit at this point.

"Moved the 1:30 on Tuesday, then?" he asks, taking a turn to the right.

"Yeah. Stark wasn't feeling keen on having a run in with Thor and his men on a weekday."

To this day, on each time, Bucky has a hard time remembering how to breathe when he hears their names. Anything with a connection to the people that took everything from him steals his functions away. And it's hard living like that in this business. The Odinsons are all you hear about when you live in a town partly controlled by the notorious family and their loyal men.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Natasha is well aware of his past. Everyone is. Not because he told them, but because things like that get spread around in this world Bucky's found himself in. They knew even before he stepped foot in Stark's territory. And now, when he's family, his bloodlust is theirs and the tragedy of your murder lays heavy on all shoulders.

It's not a secret that Bucky has a shitstorm of trauma left unprocessed in the back of his mind, locked away to the point where he can go days without feeling anything. He's a good asset for that reason, getting the job done quickly and cleanly without any trace left behind. It's nearly clinical, while extracting as much pain and suffering as he possibly can.

The truth is that Bucky is an assassin, a really fucking good one at that, and killing is the only way he knows how to deal with what was taken from him. When he joined the military just after his whole family died, there was still some form of patriotic hope and righteousness in him. It died as quickly as it took for that first bomb to kill four of his fellow soldiers and twenty-two civilians.

Five years later he lost his arm in combat. It was inevitable that he would get severely injured. By then he had become so reckless that Steve would ignore him for weeks until he would apologize and clean up his act for a short while before falling into the dangerous patterns he had become so used to.

He had nothing left to fight for, to live for, except that goddamn blonde that he had to keep alive. The punk had grown ten inches and gained 100 pounds of muscle by then, but he still had that everlasting hope inside of him, the belief of the good in humanity. That made him dangerous too.

Steve is a firefighter now. Saves kitties from trees and puts out bonfires for a living. And Bucky is glad that he didn't follow him into this life—he almost had a heart attack when the jerk showed up all those years ago with a shaved head and combat boots on his feet, deployed to the other side of the world just because Bucky had done so.

He knows about what Bucky does. And he doesn't agree with it, not at all, but he doesn't do anything about either. Maybe because he wants to keep all his body parts intact, despite how many times Bucky has told Steve that he is under their protection. Has been so since the first day. He's pretty sure Natasha has a soft spot for the tall blonde too, with how she plays his buttons and makes him blush each time they cross paths.

"Rogers got that promotion he was talkin' about?" Natasha says, stoically, as she ducks underneath Bucky's arm holding up the rusty door to the warehouse.

Bucky almost scoffs in amusement. His thoughts always seem to predict whatever is going to be said—reality following the intricate pattern of his spiraling anxiety. Real fucking sweet and crippling simultaneously.

"Yeah," he answers, quietly closing the door behind them again while adjusting to the damp darkness of the concrete hallway. "The punk's a Captain now. Youngest ever in the city."

"Good for him," she mumbles under her breath, walking forward without making a sound because that's just how she is.

Gruff voices ricochet off the walls, echo into Bucky and Nat's ears. She walks in front of him, he always makes sure she does. He can keep her in his sight then—it's easier to stave off an attack you see coming than one going on behind your back. The little spitfire is more skilled in punching down enemies than he ever could be, but Bucky likes to know where his close ones are ever since that day.

"Fucking finally!"

Arms are thrown up into the air, accompanying the roll of eyes only Yelena Belova can muster up. There's a streak of blood smeared out over her forehead, but they know better than to assume it's hers. The guy sitting strapped to a chair would be long dead by then if that was the case—Pietro would never allow someone to touch his best friend and live to take another breath.

"You took so long, svoloch'," Yelena whines, throwing down the rag she dried her bloody hands on.

Bucky learned some Russian during the time he was captured by some weird up-and-coming mob group a few years ago. He honestly doesn't remember a thing from that year except the Russian words still lingering in his mind. Most of it he's sure he has learned from the two sisters, permanently making his life a goddamn pain.

"Malyshka, you sent the text eight minutes ago. Give us a fucking break," Bucky answers, drying away a drop of water from the ceiling that has landed on his forehead.

He puts down his gun in the back pocket of his black jeans, giving a nod of acknowledgment to Pietro.

"Is this really a four person job?" Natasha speaks up, glaring at the half-conscious man strapped down. The guy isn't exactly going anywhere.

"You wouldn't think so, no?" Pietro says, arms crossed over his chest and smirking that complacent smirk of his.

"We have a lot of goddamn things to do, you know?" Bucky says, staring down the young man and woman he unfortunately has to work with. He loves the shit out of them, but they really are fucking annoying.

Yelena kicks the chair, waking the man up with a startle. He coughs, spits out blood onto the concrete floor. Ten years ago Bucky would have thrown up, probably. Now it's routine.

"This is the guy we caught sneaking intel on our shipments to Odinson three days ago," Pietro tells them, nodding towards the heaving man. "Go on. Tell them what you told us, buddy."

Natasha raises an eyebrow, a questioning glance towards her sister with a sigh. It must be something really fucking good that man is about to disclose.

"It wasn't the Odinsons," he chokes out. His eyes are nearly glued shut by the swollen skin around them—it took some encouraging before he opened his mouth. "They didn't hire me to give them info. H—"

A series of deep coughs rasp from his lungs. Bucky is starting to lose his patience.

"Hydra did."

Chapter 2

[novalupin24]

Modern Sirius Black

Uses slang like slay and yas whenever he's with Walpurga cus it annoys her

He first started listening to bowie, Queen and t.rex and now refuses to listen to anything else

Secretly enjoys Taylor swift, mother mother, Måneskin and Artic monkeys but if you ask he hates it

"Why would I listen to such bullshit? It's the devil reincarnated into music I'm telling you! Play some queen, bowie, classics not shit!"

He hides his modern music by recording it and putting the record through his other ones

Whenever he goes to the bookstore/thriftshop with Remus he mostly only gets some CD or records if they have them but Remus on the other hand gets half the shop

"Why do you need so many books Moony? These filths are ruining my chances of getting attention from you I swear to merlin!"

Watched twilight and teases Remus with recreating scenes

Went to a dog race with James as the owner and lost to some border collie and was really dramatic about it

"Fucking dog! That mutt ain't faster than me no matter how much it tries! Right Moony?"

Calls dogs "it" as an insult

At some point he was walking in the park as Padfoot and a lady wanted to get him to a shelter but he ran to Remus and now whenever he goes outside as a dog he has to have a collar on

He says "kinky" whenever Remus yells at him to go somewhere and it drives Remus crazy

Some people say that you could never see him without earphones, I beg to differ, yes wears them yes but he says they are only for "desperate moments" and that someone like him could never listen to music with anything other than a record or CD

"No I don't have my earphones on! And even if I did they are only for when I don't have any records or CDs available! Those are desperate times! I need music to function! I can't even imagine why would you think I would do such a crime!"

Tries to act like he doesn't know the names of modern bands/singers especially if they are artists that he likes

"Oh who is Taylor swift? I never heard of her. She probably sucks. But not so much since I hear she's a queen. The queen of muggle America right? She surely sucks but not a lot. I mean she can't be that bad. I'm sure anyone that listens to her had amazing taste and since of that is extremely attractive."

Side eyes everyone that annoys him

Always compliments themselves in insults

"You look ugly, unlike my absolutely gorgeously ravishing self!"

Uses he/they/she pronouns from the moment they heard she can do that

Mostly uses he/him or sometimes they/them pronouns because they think that's what people say is more acceptable

Laughs when someone tries to misgender him

"HA! Nice try but that shit started evolving! You can't even give me an identity crisis anymore!"

Whenever someone called him fatherless and he wasn't at the Potters he used to say things like "I wish" or "He's dead to me so your kinda right" but he stopped when Monty and Effie adopted him

Whenever he feels insecure he acts like she's in an edit, films it, edits it a tiny bit cus "I'm already so pretty that this edit sparkles more than Edward in the sun I just need to prove it" and watches it like "damn I be looking fine"

[catty-words]

@continuallyunexpected babygirl, i have too many thoughts on evermore (2020) to fit in my brain, but bless you for asking:

- enchanted by the way the album feels cohesive because of the way it’s fifteen songs reflecting on selves and people lost to time that all evoke wintry sparseness in both the music and lyrics

- relatedly, i got into this album at exactly the right time. it complements the liminal space feel of the week between christmas and new years and i was in exactly the right headspace to be utterly decimated by its interest in the feminine urge to callously move through time with little regard for the people who fall victim to you being so goddamn occupied with the narratives you’re constructing in your head

“willow”

- originally found the refrain of take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man annoying and undeserving of their hype but you know what? the rhythm of it wins i understand now that this is a brainworm from which i cannot escape

- i will Not come around on i come back stronger than a nineties trend though. i just won’t.

- verse three goes so fucking hard oh my godddd

- the underlying sultriness just works, man i dunno what to tell you except my hips love this song

“champagne problems”

- the diction of each repetition of champagne problems contains such an understated bitterness that is very sexy of the narrator considering she just left a dude mid-wedding, her being like ‘your problems are not that deep ok? grow up.’ is HOT. ruthless and HOT.

- and the flipping of the script to the narrator being the one who has not-so-deep problems they have to grow up about is just good writing. which is also hot.

“gold rush”

- this song often makes me think about you!! so, an honest answer to the question “what are your thoughts on evermore?” is “you, bestie” 😘

- the way this song is an Experience, though. like, the percussion and the bass et al make you feel your own anticipation-sick heartbeat and the lyrics of the chorus tumble down down down into the feeling they’re describing and “gold rush” is falling in love i will not elaborate further

“‘tis the damn season”

- in a bit of a love affair with this song right now it’s the latest to mash the 'think about d/b’ button in my brain and i’m feeling very

about it, y’know?

- ooohhoohoo the lyrics if i wanted to know who you were hanging with / while i was gone, i would have asked you / it’s the kind of cold fogs up windshield glass are a prime example of the wintry sparseness and the feminine urge to live up the ass of your own perspective and i feel very normal about them as a result!

- something about the instrumentation of the chorus makes me feel like i’m standing in the gently falling snow. which?? that’s witchcraft

“tolerate it”

- it’s a well-constructed story powerfully and emotionally evoked through music but my primary reaction to it is always something along the lines of: girl, get help fr fr

“no body, no crime”

- 👏 GASLIGHT 👏 GIRLBOSS 👏

- the way she thinks i did it, but she just can’t prove it hits!!! that’s it, that’s my whole thought!

- at first glance, it might seem that this self-contained murder ballad is a bit of a detour for the album, but i���d argue that the narrative is cold and brutal in such a way that fits right in. “champagne problems” and “‘tis the damn season” and “ivy” and especially “long story short” all feature narrators who are self-involved, painfully aware of that fact, and never stop themselves repeating their harmful patterns. gaslighting girlbosses the lot of them. 😍

“happiness”

- letting go of something that treated you well enough but you’ve outgrown, being wistful for change but also for the past... this song is so thematically on point i find myself needing to stare into the void about it

“dorothea”

- another wistful exploration of bygone relationships and whole eras of life. theme once again on point.

“coney island”

- i totally feel like i’m walking through an abandoned theme park in the dead of january listening to this song. i taste the ocean, or perhaps my own tears,,,

- obsessed with the lyric sorry for not making you my centerfold for the way it captures so succinctly the downfall of the romantic relationships on this album, makes my brain buzz

“ivy”

- this pop-country ballad simply is a jam

- why is the rhyme scheme of oh, goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezin hand so fucking satisfying?? i wanna bite down on it

- also, the palm of your freezing hand image/sensation is so simple, yet i find it to be one of the most striking lyrical evocations of winter on the album

“cowboy like me”

- i really enjoy the way this one turns the ‘end of an era’ motif on its head. in most of the other songs on the album with similar interests - “champagne problems”, “tolerate it”, “happiness”, “coney island”, “marjorie” - a relationship is coming to an end and the narrator has to grapple with how that changes them. in “cowboy like me”, a relationship starting is the change that requires reflection on what’s being lost and i think that’s neat!

“long story short”

- this song offers a meta-perspective on the whole album and i have it between my teeth and i’m gonna grrhgrhhrhhhgrhhhgrhj

- the whole chorus fucking. it offers a birds-eye view of the cycle we’ve been seeing different facets of for eleven songs now!!

- relatedly, the line i always felt i must look better in the rear view shines a spotlight on why the speaker stays trapped in this particular cycle and i am unwell about it!!!

- looking at the song through this lens, the CHEEK of now i’m all about you!! (for how long, taylor? yeah, that’s what i thought, see you in the review, babe!!!)

- in any case, i find it delightful that even the album’s meta-narrative contains a flipped-script moment that’s powerful as all hell. long story short, i survived indeed!

“marjorie”

- it really gets to me that in the outpouring of the bridge, the speaker says i should’ve asked you questions / i should’ve asked you how to be in such a panic, yet the verses are proof that the speaker picked up on marjorie’s advice all the same!! heart-wrenching.

“closure”

- the lounge piano layered over the static gives the song a disjointedness that really works for me and somehow perfectly captures the chaotic emotional state of being suspended between letting something go (a relationship, a year of your life) and still being stuck with that something a little while longer. i.e. the perfect penultimate track to this album

- the petty delivery of it wasn’t right, the way it all went down / looks like you know that now delights and amuses

“evermore”

- album closers to sink into a fit of despair to!!! because this is the perfect album to sink into a fit of despair to and this closer is the perfect concluding statement for its album!!!!!

- truly, the way this song ends with the faintest whiff of rebirth yet is still melancholy the whole way through... name a better love letter to winter. you can’t do it. ❄️

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e10 torn and frayed (w. jenny klein)

*points at the 0 days since last torturing sign* also me muttering under my breath, what the ffffuck is sam still doing here. ALSO would like to point out that the whole abducting a 4 year old from the park thing from 2 episodes ago pretty much got completely dropped and was irrelevant. like, we see him briefly in the place with crowley but that was that.

SAM Seriously, Dean? That's the story you're going with? That the vampire was the real victim here? DEAN Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay? There was a time when that actually meant something. SAM Yeah, yeah. No kidding.

whew, sam is spittin mad. i didn't wanna put their whole conversation in here but....

SAM You think this is just about Benny? DEAN What the hell are you talking about? SAM What the hell do you think I'm talking about? DEAN Amelia? Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to – to – SAM You needed me to what? To tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica, what happened to... everybody that we care about might have happened to her? DEAN You were gonna kill Benny. What was I supposed to do? SAM Is that what we are? You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?

yeah, dean. the woman i love, all right.

DEAN What do you want to hear, Sam? That I was wrong? Fine. I was wrong. Okay? But if you'd have just heard me out, if you'd have trusted me, all of this could have been avoided. SAM You didn't want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can't do that.

but no, he wanted you to trust him and his judgement about benny! it's like the fucking jewel staite situation but reverse. and dean has actively just had a year of a horribly traumatic survival situation to base the trust for benny on.

AND whatever happened to predictability s2e3 bloodlust sam sticking up for the vegetarian vampires??? can we say he's jealous that someone else is getting the secrets and is quote unquote more trustworthy. but also hurt/mad about it? isn't sam the one that's always fighting for them to give the monster-people a chance?

DEAN Right. Okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now? SAM That depends. It depends on you. On whether or not you're done with him. DEAN Well, honestly, I don't know. DEAN and SAM look at each other for a long moment. DEAN Glad I made the drive.

god they're a fucking mess. perpetually. "whether or not you're done with him" really leaning into the wording like he's cheating on sam with benny. sam looking immediately slightly regretful about standing firm. think i might need to revise my feelings on padalecki's acting. i mean, they're already revised somewhat. but i also wonder how i'd feel about the early seasons now that i know what to look for with his face lol

castiel keepin it creepy i see

DEAN Damn it, Cas! How many times I got to tell you – it's just creepy!

i know it's A Thing but sigh. however what i wanted to point out

okay i see you, 2 TB drive in a laptop in 2012! ok and also. wireless WAN! how they access the internet on the laptop is always in the back of my mind

CASTIEL Well, when you torture an angel, it screams and that kind of pain, it creates a ripple effect of strange incidents.

in a show of just making shit up as needed, this feels ESPECIALLY made up as needed lol

i did so well yesterday in not rambling. today feels like i'm gonna end up with a novel by the end of the episode.

AMELIA I'm telling you that if you stay, against everything I believe in, I would be with you. But if you leave… don't come back. I can't have you with one foot in my life and one foot out there doing… whatever it is you do. That life of yours I have no idea about.

okay so he didn't tell her the truth either after a year? was that the long term plan? never telling her? because with all that's happened to him personally in the past 8 years, multiple tractor trailers full of trauma that has to stay strapped down tight?

weird seeing so much skin but nice that's it's just casual. this conversation is a little clunky

so they're gonna think about it. and sam has to pick either dean and hunting, or amelia and civilian life

cas coming in handy as gopher for spell ingredients

DEAN Your mom's hot. I'm serious, your mom is one sexy –

in the episode with the reference again to the asian women fetish? ugh, dean. ugh, writer.

BENNY (on phone) Yeah, just hitting a little rough patch, I guess. You know, doing this whole solo thing. DEAN (on phone) Benny... one day at a time, man.

the ways dean could have helped sam with his addiction..

DEAN Yeah, but your mom's your mom. KEVIN I can't enjoy a world I need to save, Dean. I can enjoy it when this is all over with. For right now... there's nothing more important than this.

making dean do the thinky thoughts face. whatcha thinking there dean-o, because basically this means also you never get to enjoy anything ever which...

DEAN I told you we didn't need him. CASTIEL We need everything, Dean. And I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?

there's a glimmer of the snarky cas we were missing. bitchy sibling bickering but dad's here to get them to stfu

laughing/not laughing how we've circled back to heaven politics

DEAN I told you something was off with him since he got back from Purgatory. SAM So, what, you think someone's messing with him or something?

glad they're being semi-observant woohoo

DEAN Don't you have a girl to get back to? SAM Yeah. I guess I do. Um... Since when are you on the Amelia bandwagon? DEAN I don't know. I'm just tired of all the fighting. And, you know, maybe I'm a little bit jealous. I could never separate myself from the job like you could. Hell, maybe it's time for at least one of us to be happy.

kind of a dig, kind of an admission. mmmk

SAM What, you being such a big hugger and all? She does make me happy, and she could be waiting for me if I went back. I'd be a very lucky man if she was. But now... with everything staring down at us, with all that's left to be done... I don't know. DEAN Huh. SAM Yeah. DEAN Well, I do know this – whatever you decide, decide. Both feet in or both feet out. Anything in between is what gets you dead. SAM Yeah, I keep hearing that. I'm gonna… take a walk. Clear my head.

glad they had a grownup conversation about it

BENNY (on phone) Dean. Thank you mightily, bud. I'm in a hard way here. How close are you? DEAN (on phone) I'm sorry, man. I, um... I'm not gonna make it. BENNY (on phone) You mean now, or...? DEAN (on phone) Listen, Benny. Everything you've done for me, I will never forget, but, uh... This is it. BENNY (on phone) End of the line? DEAN (on phone) End of the line.

hey, got a few tears out of me. so much for the support on the addiction front. heart breaking little bit for benny. has no one. hope he can find some veggie vampires to hook up with

breakups all around. miserable but together

[koreandragon]

this one is really coming out of left field so feel free to ignore it, but i think this might be a thought you appreciate. I just feel like the older i get the more i'm thinking the ancient athenians were right when they said you gotta watch some fucked up shit happen on stage to purge yourself of negative emotions. like i think characters in stories should be fucked up little freaks that do some morally questionable if not terrible things to each other because they refuse to go to therapy (1/2)

i just think people have gotten a little too righteous about fictional stories and don't want to consume anything that challenges their world view, but i think doing that is a necessary part of not just any media diet but of knowing who you are and where exactly your morals lie and i frankly don't think enough media is providing people with the catharsis they need to figure it out. anyways if this made no sense to you the wikipedia page for catharsis explains it a lot better. (2/2)

you're absolutely right and you should say it. not to circle everything back to vincenzo but that show (if we're talking in terms of kdramas) i think is the perfect example of that. and while we know the fucked up shit our protagonist does is in favor of a common good it's still fucked up shit. and part of that catharsis is knowing the evil doers get what's coming to them. one aspect of what you mentioned is the anti-hero like vincenzo, deadpool, daredevil etc who achieve good by doing bad but you still root for them. "but they kill people" well susan it's fiction. do you need a warning that states at the beginning that the writer doesn't condone murder? is that what you want?

loved watching dexter. he's not an anti hero, he's only a hero in his own mind. but damn if i did not have the time of my life watching him execute people in his little kill room.

i care a lot with rosemund pike. she scammed old people and yeah i wanted her dead but what an enjoyable time! what a great movie it was.

gone girl another rosemund pike movie. just two people destorying each other hand in unlovable hand.

the john wick movies!! i specifically remember sitting in the cinema during parabellum and just GRINNING throughout the whole movie because the fight scenes and the way he plowed through his enemies was so cold and brutal it brought me near tears. like i genuinely think it altered my brain chemistry and cleaned out all the toxins in my system. genuine catharsis.

so many people want media to be sterile and unproblematic, just an uwu little blorbo who has never even gotten a parking ticket in their life because somehow the fact that you enjoy a movie that has murder in it means you condone murder in real life. because that's how that works.