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suntoru · 3 months

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(PARENT)HESIS ON LOVE!

— SYNOPSIS: gojo has always been the one babied; although now that you're pregnant, the roles have been reversed.

— WARNINGS: pregnant reader, fluff, hormones, insecurities about getting bigger, referred as mama once or twice, not proofread, a bit of crying, 1k words

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i'm cooking i swearrrrrrrrrr i'm too sad to write

gojo satoru is completely infatuated with you, especially now that you're carrying his child. every little thing about you seems to sparkle with an extra layer of beauty in his eyes; the way your skin seems to glow with an ethereal radiance, and how you've become increasingly dependent on him lately, fills him with a sense of pride.

and oh, his favouritest thing in the world is the way you waddle around the house, so cutely, letting out tiny grunts of effort to get around. normally, you're the one taking care of him, but lately, he's been the one doting on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. he's so mindful, always making sure to take extra care, especially now that your mood swings are coming in at full force.

"you're so beautiful," he whispers to you, his eyes brimming with admiration as he gazes at you. his hand gently rests against your swollen stomach, his touch tender and soft. feeling a tiny kick from the baby, he can't contain his joy. "our baby's getting so big," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and adoration.

however, despite his pure intentions, hormones wreak havoc on your emotions, causing your mood to plummet suddenly. his innocent remark triggers a surge of insecurity and sensitivity within you.

"are you calling me big?" you mumble, your doe eyes welling up with tears as you struggle to hold back your emotions. crossing your arms defensively, you glare up at him, the hurt evident in your expression.

yet, gojo remains remarkably patient, his demeanor unwaveringly gentle as he responds to your emotional outburst. he never raises his voice or shows even a hint of frustration, instead choosing to shower you with affection and understanding. with a soft smile, he leans down to press a tender kiss to your swollen belly, his lips conveying all the love and reassurance he feels for both you and the precious life growing inside you.

"you know that's not what i meant," he reassures, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. as your grumpiness begins to surface, he remains by your side, tenderly massaging your sore legs, smiling up at you gently. with a sniffle, you push him away, your lips forming a stubborn pout as tears stream down your cheeks.

"go away," you sob, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. "i don't wanna see your face right now." he sighs softly, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he cups your face with infinite tenderness.

"do you really want me to go?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern, his willingness to leave evident in his earnest gaze if it would even bring you an ounce of peace. the thought of him leaving, even temporarily, fills you with a sense of emptiness and longing.

"no," you sniffle, longing to be held in his arms but hindered by the growing bump of your stomach. you sulk over the fact that you can no longer fit perfectly into his embrace like before, and how your increased appetite and mood swings must be testing his patience. insecurity grips you tightly as you think about how tired he must be of your constant ups and downs, from holding your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness to enduring your emotional outbursts. the fear of burdening him weighs heavily on your heart, and before you know it, fresh tears cascade down your cheeks.

"i'm sorry..." you sob, feeling utterly overwhelmed by your emotions, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your cheeks. "i'm fat, and... and ugly now, and i've been so mean to you lately..." your voice breaks as you unload your insecurities onto his sleeve, seeking solace in his comforting presence. frowning with concern, gojo gently brushes your hair behind your ears, his touch tender as he pulls you closer into his lap.

"hey, what are you talking about? you aren't any of those." he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of your emotions.

"b-but... i can't even tie my own shoes without help because i'm big..." you snivel, hiccupping between words. he continues to stroke your head with a gentle rhythm, allowing you to cry freely against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his expensive shirt.

"you're carrying a literal human being in you; of course you'd get a little bigger," gojo reasons, his words carrying a reassuring weight. despite your doubts and fears, he remains steadfast in his support, his unwavering love evident in the earnest gaze he directs towards you. "but that doesn't mean i love you less. you always are, and will be, my pretty girl," he adds, his smile radiating warmth and affection, a beacon of reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. feeling unworthy of such devotion, you struggle to comprehend how someone as incredible as gojo could love you so unconditionally. his declaration of love washes over you like a gentle wave, soothing your battered soul with its sincerity.

"i love you, yeah?" he whispers, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back in a tender attempt to calm your racing heart. you nod softly, finding comfort in his embrace, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he kisses away your tears, his touch soothing your soul. "you're perfect," he murmurs against your cheek, his voice filled with adoration as he peppers your face with gentle kisses.

"our baby's lucky to have you as its mama." you cling onto him as if he's your lifeline, his presence grounding you amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. with each whispered word he rambles to the life growing within you, he fills the air with promises of love and protection, his hand caressing your swollen belly tenderly.

"hey there, little one," he coos, his voice filled with anticipation. "you behave for mama, okay? we can't wait to meet you."

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #gojo fluff

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demigods-posts · 6 months

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percy and grover headcanons that live rent-free in my head:

whenever grover has time, they have sleepovers. whether that be at chb in the poseidon cabin or at the blofis-jackson residence, they stay up for hours drinking soda (grover eats the empty cans), playing board games, and watching movies.

they're extremely affectionate with one another. unwaveringly. they hold hands, hug, cuddle, and emphasize the "i" in "i love you" when speaking to each other. it's adorable.

they talk about each other all of the time. anytime you mention one of them around the other, prepare to hear a twenty-minute speech about how amazing they think the other is.

they're each other's best man at each other's weddings.

gods. this has been sitting in my drafts since august. i keep coming back and trying to add to it. but i'm out of ideas. help a girl out.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo text post #pjo headcanon #percy jackson #grover underwood #percy and grover #percy and grover friendship #percy and grover fluff #i need more percy and grover #.

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heich0e · 8 months

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just saw talk of boxer au!gojo on twitter and i fear now i'm thinking about satoru—undefeated in his weight class, a sensation in the sport—gearing up for a fight against a fighter from the underground scene, ryomen sukuna, who's known to have seedy connections and to not fight fair. his opponents often end up hospitalized, or mysteriously retiring after his matches—and there are rumours that some meet even more sinister fates.

and you show up at gojo's training gym one night, long after the rest of his team has gone home and find him in the practice ring just laying on his back, his mitts tucked under his head like a pillow, asleep and totally at peace. you hesitate, not sure if you should disturb him, but eventually climb up onto the elevated platform of the ring. you slip through the ropes like you have a hundred—maybe a thousand—times before, and approach him quietly as not to wake him.

he strikes when you're within arm's reach, moving faster than you could ever hope to dodge even if you did anticipate it, and before you know it you're toppling down on top of him as he uses his body to break your fall—two strong arms cradling you to his bare chest.

"you weren't sleeping," you grumble into his neck sullenly, and you feel his chest lift with a laugh. "you tricked me."

"had to, otherwise you might've tried to run away." his hands pat down along your spine, then up over your shoulder blades, holding you tight. "couldn't risk that when you haven't been answering any of my calls."

he lets you pull away but only barely—just enough room to use his chest to push yourself up and look at him, but his hands on your hips keep you pinned in place where you straddle him. when you look down at him, at his pretty face and his bright eyes and the soft smile he always shows you, you feel like you might start crying again—just like the last time you were in this very gym a week prior. the gym whose route you could walk in your sleep, whose walls you have memorized with his name and trophies displayed proudly everywhere you look. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. the same way the crowds at his fights chant for him and his triumph.

gojo—a name as familiar to you as it is foreign. it's his, but it's not. because the boy below you, staring up at you with that same lovesick expression you've never seen waver, will never be anything to you but satoru. means everything to you as satoru.

"it's not too late," you whisper, reaching up with a shaking hand and running your fingertips along the blush that sits high on his cheeks. "you can still call off the fight, there's still time."

satoru's expression shifts for a moment, so brief you may have missed it if you didn't know him so well. there's a flash of something behind his eyes that reads unmistakably like guilt. he dons a facade of petulance to mask it, his lip pursing in an exaggerated pout.

"i can't believe my own good luck charm doesn't think i can win against some loser," he whines, turning his face and nosing against the palm that was cupping his cheek.

it's not true. you believe in satoru unwaveringly, you know his skill and his abilities. your faith in him is, and always has been, implicit. it's his opponent you don't trust.

it's what the fight might cost him, regardless of the outcome, that terrifies you.

"hey."

your eyes focus again, and you meet satoru's gaze below you. he lifts his hand, cupping yours—so much smaller in comparison—underneath as he holds your touch against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

it's so impossibly still in the gym with everyone else gone, but everything about it is known to you. is wholly familiar. the dim fluorescents, the smell that lingers in the air, the hum of the fans, the sound of satoru's breath.

"stop worrying, okay?" he whispers against your skin, kissing your palm again to punctuate the request. "there's no way i'm gonna lose. i'm the strongest, after all."

and there's familiarity in those words too, since he's said them to you more times than you could ever hope to keep track of.

but this time they just don't seem to reassure you the same way.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing

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izvmimi · 25 days

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cw: yandere. female noun for reader used once.

“Baby, did you hear a word I just said?”

You look up from your phone with a start, realizing you’ve been distracted for the past minute. Izuku is uncommonly sensitive these days, and the edge in his voice is sharper than usual as his emerald eyes flit from your phone screen back to your face. There’s a dull shine to them, matching with the very faint bags circling his eyes, and he lets out a sigh as he sets his dinner utensils down and runs his right hand through his messy hair before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. Ever since your last argument, there have been new rules imposed - you mean, agreed upon - and one of these includes avoiding using your cell phone at dinner. After all, dinnertime is sacred between two loved ones, it’s the only recourse you both have from the demands of the day where you are face to face and replenishing with the fruits of your own labor. Man works so that they can eat. Man shares food with the people they love.

Izuku’s meal is untouched. Yours has been picked at slightly, and your chopsticks are no longer neatly placed against your bowl but stuck nearly straight up in your rice. An affront, he’s already reminded you multiple times, but again you’re being careless, texting instead of talking to him, disregarding him, disregarding the sanctity of a meal, disregarding the fact that his jaw is clenched and he’s trying his best to remain calm, deep exhale through pursed lips.

He doesn’t tell you it’s okay, although you remember a time when you first started dating where every misstep you made could be assuaged by a mere pout and batting your eyelashes at him, because you were terribly cute to him no matter how much and often you disrespected him. Now, the corners of his lips perk up in a mirthless smile and he asks, tilting his head:

“Who’s that?”

You blink, and he exhales under his breath. “Who are you talking to?” he repeats, still smiling, trying very hard to be oh so patient with you, the corner of his lips hiked up higher than before.

You had perhaps smiled a little too much when receiving that text message. It was nothing really, just a group chat with your friends where you’d alerted them you’d be slow to reply, and the conversation still went on without you, with the intention for you to come back and get up to speed. A picture of a cat in a ridiculous situation of its own making had been posted and it’d drawn a chuckle out of you - even though you’re having dinner with your partner, the only person on this earth that should matter and does matter.

“My friend. You know her, remember?” you remind him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Grabbing your chopsticks in your right hand again, you try to redirect him, indulging him in conversation.

“So as you were saying…-”

“Hey, can I see?”

Izuku has moved on from whatever he was trying to communicate and is already reaching his hand out in demand for you to give up your phone. He’s steady and stubborn like an ox, and you know he can stay in this position for as long as possible.

“It’s just a group chat, it’s not that interesting. Hold on, let me unlock it for you,” you start, but he insists.

“Just hand it over.”

The edge is sharper still, practically bleeding as though it were already pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your throat dries, but you hand it over hastily, practically slapping it into his palm.

“Good girl.”

Before you can guess what his next move is, he’s closed his fingers around the phone the wrong way around and it’s so small in his hand, just as vulnerable as you are.

It snaps.

Izuku doesn’t make a dramatic scene of it; he stares at you, unwaveringly, the entire time, as the glass and metal and whatever else of the phone crumples and gives way in his hand like wet toilet paper, and he looks practically bored doing it, as if he were doing a necessary chore like taking out the trash when his roommate forgot to do it. Once he’s done, it’s set aside, nonchalantly at the edge of the table, in an irregular, far too neat clump.

“Focus on your meal,” he says.

Bile rises in your throat quickly, then subsides as he picks up his chopsticks again.

“Yes.”

Three seconds pass, and he picks up speech again.

“So as I was saying, Kacchan’s been really struggling with making sure his paperwork is in on time and it’s causing stress for everyone else and-”

“They’ll ask, you know,” you pipe up, suddenly. It’s in a small voice, smaller than you want it to be, but it’s enough for him to know that he’s been interrupted and that you have something to say. Izuku’s eyes narrow as he looks at you for a moment, then picks up the metal ball that comprises the remains of your cell phone and rolls it in his other hand.

“Who’s they?” he asks, softly. His feigned ignorance seems to mock you.

“The phone company. That’s the fourth one this month, Izuku.”

He tilts his head, pondering for a moment. “Really?”

You prevent yourself from gritting your teeth, and reply sweetly, “Really.”

“They won’t ask. We can afford it.”

The word ‘we’ both aggravates and mollifies you. We means him and you, you and him. You are equals. You are not possessed, even if he could very much do so, own you, if he wanted to.

Allowing yourself to wrap yourself up tightly, safe and warm, in this understanding, you aim to take a bite of food in your chopsticks but decide instead to let your chopsticks dip over to his plate to pick a piece of roasted meat off of his plate before slipping it into your mouth coyly.

“If you say so,” you add between bites. He smiles, glad that despite all this hassle, you’re still very much, and inevitably so, his.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #cw yandere #mimi's notes

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tb3ih · 4 months

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APOCALYPSE ⨳ satoru gojo

[ the world is caving in for EX-BOYFRIEND!SATORU--he thinks ]

⨳ word count: 2.7k !

⨳ warnings. post-breakup, non-sorcerer!au, "treating wounds tension" + underlying notes of unfinished love. contains nsfw (MDNI) — oral & fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, missionary, creampie & aftercare (?)

⨳ notes, happy love day to the satoru enjoyers. everyone else... well, maybe you'll learn to enjoy him after this. ( thank you to @ktsumu & @difficultdomains for mothering this fic, i appreciate you both sm <3 )

there is nothing quite like the loneliness of being the strongest. GOJO SATORU doesn't allow himself to pay any mind to the void which separates him from the rest of his kind, though at times he wished he could rid himself of it entirely.

his pace is slow and lacking in rhythm, tall frame swaying and trying to keep him from planting face first into the pavement as his body carries him down the familiar path. the metal in his mouth has yet to subside and the male is nearly on the edge of consciousness until he recognizes the entrance to your apartment building.

he does not knock, simply entering the code at your door knob and praying it hasn't changed since the last time he's been there. and it hasn't, because no sooner after he presses the enter button, the lock clicks and a small chime resonates from the door, allowing him in.

the door doesn't creak, so he swings it open just slightly to allow himself in, but one step into the living room and suddenly he's forced into the wall of the hallway behind him, something cold and sharp pressed against his throat.

gojo satoru has never feared for his life, but the glow in your narrowed eyes as you hold him in place and press the knife against his throat has his soul threatening to escape through his throat. and then something shifts, your eyes changing in emotion and just as fast as you appeared because you're no longer against him, tucking the knife away in its holster and standing before him.

"satoru? what are you doin--satoru!" satoru doesn't remember your embrace being this warm when you catch his collapsed body, but then again he hardly remembers anything at all these days. "oh my god--is that blood? jesus, satoru!"

he hums out a reply, vision a little fuzzy around the edges as he tries to register the dimly lit living room of your apartment. he hears you curse out, muttering about how heavy the male was before setting him gently down on the couch. gojo's vision is going in and out, his consciousness indecisive because one moment, you're gone and the next you're standing over him, brows pinched in concentration as you clean something off his face.

"hold still," you say quietly when you feel him try to move from his position. you're seating next to him on the couch, tying off the stitches at his brow. putting your tools down, you wipe the bit of crimson from his pale face before covering it with a bandage. his cerulean eyes watch you unwaveringly, but you refuse to return his stare.

you may have only one life, but there were things better left untouched.

the rest of his bloodstained clothes remain in a heap on the floor near the couch, revealing that most of the blood you had previously witnessed was not his. you stand, grabbing your first aid materials and putting them on the counter. when you come back, you hold a glass of water in one hand and some painkillers in another.

you set them on the coffee table, sitting down next to him once more to adjust one of the bandages you notice has come loose around his shoulder. "y/n..."

you pause your movements, eyes carefully meeting his. you regret your decision the moment you see the way his irises spill with an emotion you wish you could get rid of as easily as you did your assignments.

"why are you here, satoru?" your voice is so quiet, you almost don't hear yourself. why did you come back? is what you wished you said, but you can't risk reopening a wound you've stitched up too many times.

the male purses his lips for a second, racking his mind for an answer that won't push you even further away from him. "i... didn't know where else to go..." he brings his other hand up to your face, fingertips ghosting your cheek out of fear he might break you if he does make contact. "please, you’re… all i have left…"

you inhale sharply, something forming in the back of your throat. "please, don't look at me like that," you beg, but you don't move an inch as he starts to move closer to you, his hand coming to gently hold your face.

"why?" it is quiet in the room and his face is only a breath away. he is close, too close, but you can't bring yourself to pull away.

something hot escapes your eye, the pain in your chest flaring up again and causing the nerves on your skin to ignite. "because," you start, voice breaking off a little before continuing in a whisper. "i might actually believe that you love me this time."

his thumb catches another tear before it can make it all the way down your cheek. "and what if i said i did?"

"you are a cruel man," you reply, never breaking eye contact with him.

something glints in those beautiful blue eyes of his at your words and you know you'd never be able to get rid of him even if you tried. "then maybe you can teach me a thing or two about being good."

silence settles around the both of you, neither of you wanting to say something that might unravel whatever it is that's built up in these few fleeting moments.

“oh, satoru,” you finally say, a bit of sad amusement tugging at the corner of your lip, “not even hell would be enough punishment for you.”

when his fingers go grab your chin gently and pull your lips closer to his, you can’t even find the strength in you to fight it. gojo pauses, lips moving from your eyes to your lips that are nearly touching his.

he licks his lips. “then why don’t you show me what is?”

[n]sfw under the cut!

and you’re not breathing anymore. because in that instant you are telling yourself you loathe the man before you as you bring both of your hands to his face and finally push your lips onto his, all the oxygen in your lungs no sooner chased out by everything that is gojo satoru.

though, you can’t say your partner is any better, because he’s pushing back with just as much force, lips molding against your fervently as his hands move to trail to your waist, lifting you with no effort to make you straddle his waist. you gasp, his fingers digging in just enough for the pain to be delicious as he holds you down against his clothed dick. you can feel the way gojo’s lips twist into a smirk that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, though you didn’t mind one bit.

when was the last time you’d done anything like this? your hips move off muscle memory, grinding down hard against him at a slow, but steady pace that has gojo groaning into your mouth. your fingers find his hair, combing, tangling, and pulling his soft locks while he breaks the kiss to let his lips travel from your jaw, down your neck, and to the sensitive spot of your collarbone.

“fuck, y/n,” gojo curses, pulling away to watch you pull off your shirt, lips swollen and pink while his eyes watch you behind a veil of something almost soft. you aren’t a fool though, you’re just as hungry as him.

his lips attach almost immediately to your chest when you fall back into him, a combination of his incisors and tongue leaving hues of scarlet as his mouth dances across your bare skin. you can feel how painfully hard he is through his pants, the moan that escapes his lips almost making you chuckle when you drag your hand from his face to his chest and finally to the waistband of his pants, palming his length through the material.

“damn couch is too fuckin’ small,” he growls against your skin, to which you respond by guiding him down to the plush carpet on the floor, the soft material on your skin not nearly as cruel as the leather of your couch.

he takes your nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before swirling around it with his tongue, causing you to mewl out at the pleasure. “well, i’ve never actually tried to get dicked down on it before, but i appreciate the criticism,” you breathe out, the snarkiness in your reply inciting amusement in gojo as he sees you’ve gone back to your original self.

“i was wondering when you’d gotten so soft,” he taunts, “thought i’d lost you forever.”

you scoff, “as if i’d let you think you’re the best in the business.”

he switches the two of you, toned arms caging your head in where you now lay on the floor. “prove me wrong then, gorgeous,” gojo says lowly. his eyes look as if they’re trying to devour you in the way that they trail down from your lips to your heaving chest, bite marks and hickies blossoming in reds and bruising purples all over.

he keeps his eyes on yours when his hand finds the drawstring of your pants, undoing them in the blink of an eyes before hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off entirely. his hand comes to your panties, fingertips ghosting over the already-wet patch of fabric.

“you know, for a professional,” gojo starts, lips pulling into a mean grin, “you sure do let yourself get riled up easily.”

with one hand you pull his face down to yours by the back of his neck and with your other hand you grab the wrist of his hand pushing it against your aching cunt. “for a professional, you sure like to run your mouth,” you retort, continuing with a bit of impatience in your voice, “if you don’t shut up and fuck me, i’m going to have to ask you kindly to leave.”

at that, he chuckles, pulling your panties to the side to pressing a finger to your bundle of nerves. you shudder at the sudden contact, back arching involuntarily off the carpet as he starts to move. “well i guess i better get to it, then,” gojo chuckles lowly, dipping a finger into your soaking entrance. shifting his position, he moves down so that his head is in between your thighs before bringing his mouth to your clit.

you hear him curse against you and you sigh, thighs closing in on his head as he starts to working his fingers in and out of you. curling his fingers, gojo relishes the way you shudder involuntarily, walls clenching around his fingers as he speeds up his brutal pace. there’s a familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach and the pleasure flooding your head has the edges of your vision looking fuzzy.

“satoru…hngh–!” you’re a mess underneath him, hands shaking when they move to tug his hair harder. “s-slow down–please!”

the white-haired male hums against you in reply, detaching his lips from your clit to meet your eyes. “funny how you’re asking me to slow down, but this pussy’s beggin’ to be fucked,” he coos, watching the way you’re swallowing his fingers knuckles deep.

and you feel as if the world is a little off-kilter, the trembling in your thighs intensifying as your orgasm teeters on the edge of crashing down. and it’s just as you’re about to cum that he pulls his fingers from your aching cunt, leaving you gasping and sensitive from the sudden loss of contact. “satoru…?”

and that’s when you feel it, his tip prodding between your soaked folds, dragging against your entrance with a pace that can only be described as teasing. gojo’s face comes to settling in your neck, one hand pressed on the carpet beside your head to support him while the other continues pressing his cock against you. “‘m still here, gorgeous,” he murmurs into your neck, voice low and a little strained.

it’s taking everything in him to keep from pushing in and throwing every boundary between you two to hell. the lilt of your voice when you whined his name, the twist of your fingers through his hair, god, even just the taste of you on his tongue–it was driving him mad.

if this was heaven, gojo would willingly repent if it meant he could devour you.

and when you curse out, calling his name like a mantra, only then does he snap back to reality, your teeth finding his neck when he finally does push in, your gummy walls giving him nothing short of a warm welcome as you swallow him whole. gojo pulls out till it’s just the tip teasing your walls before slamming his hips back in, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with just enough force to have stars dancing in your vision.

“holy shit,” he breathes, groaning out at the feeling of your nails raking down his back. you feel his muscles flex as he adjusts above you, “i’m going to eat you alive.”

you place a feather-light kiss where you had just been biting down, whispering in reply, “so do it.”

and he’s smiling against your neck when he starts his brutal pace, grinding his hips into yours in a way that has a scream trying to claw its way from your throat. gojo is a muttering mess of moans and curses, the drag of his veins against your fluttering walls sending him into a state of euphoria.

you feel that familiar tightening in your core, the continuous teasing of his tip against your cervix making you arching into the white-haired male above you, your nails drawing uncertain and indecisive shapes into the contours of his back. “satoru… i think i’m–oh god, please…”

gojo is definitely not thinking straight. from ecstasy washing through his veins to the faint stinging of your nails carving into his back, he wasn’t sure if there was any going back. he can feel the way you clench around him, pushing him closer and closer to his edge by the second.

“y/n,” he rasps, unable to stop the stutter in his pace of his hips against yours. “...god, you–you’re everything…” this, here–the moment–is everything.

you almost don’t catch what he says solely out of doubt that he even said what he did. you don’t respond, only biting his shoulder to muffle the sound of his name as it comes tumbling off your lips in a scream. your orgasm washes over you and you let yourself go under, body shaking as gojo comes to finish following you.

and when he does, it comes crashing. hips slowing to a halt against you, you hear him groan, frame shuddering as he empties himself into you. you feel the warm flood your walls, both of your frames heaving for air as you come down from your highs. when he finally does calm down, you’re already fading in and out of consciousness.

you’re half-awake when gojo rolls off of you, taking his weight and his warmth with him when he gets up and collects himself. you don’t have time to actually feel the difference in temperature because only a few moments after he’s gone, he’s back again, arms locking your tired body against his chest as you’re lifted from the carpet.

you’re barely hanging on to reality when you feel like you’re being embraced again, only this time it’s a blanketing kind of warmth. “satoru…”

the male lays perfectly still against you, allowing you to adjust yourself and get as comfortable as possible. the moon peeks in from the sun window in your bedroom ceiling and gojo finds himself staring up at the distant twinkling of young stars galaxies away.

none of the stars have exploded and the moon appears to have stayed on its course. when he looks back at you, you’ve already drifted to rest, breaths rhythmic and nearly silent as you remain cuddled against him.

silly of him to think that the world was ending.

after all, you were right here.

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astrosouldivinity · 4 months

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Venus Sign Observations: 💞🖤💞

Fixed Venus Edition: ⚔️

Taurus Venus: 🍃

🍃 Venus in Taurus are devoted in their relationships. They value commitment, comfort, loyalty, and peace. They strive to build relationships built on a deep connection to the physical and sensual aspects of life.

🍃 The influence of Venus in Taurus is romantic in nature, as Taurus is ruled by the planet Venus, representing love, beauty, romance, values, pleasure, and luxury. This connection creates natural ease in expressing love and affection towards others which individuals with Venus in Taurus provide effortlessly.

🍃 Taurus Venus often values financial stability in a partner and appreciates someone who is willing to provide for them. They seek a relationship in which both partners can grow together. Their approach to love can be equated to planting a seed and nurturing its growth until it blossoms into a beautiful flower.

🍃 Taurus Venus prioritizes stability and dependability in their relationships. They are attracted to partners who are also the same way. However, their unwavering nature can sometimes manifest as stubbornness and possessiveness. They do not want to share their partner whatsoever.

🍃 Venus in Taurus tends to adopt a more traditional approach in their intimate relationships. While their openness to different relationship dynamics can be influenced by other astrological placements, they generally prioritize loyalty and commitment to a single partner.

Leo Venus: 💋

💋 Venus in Leo are known for their unwavering loyalty and passionate approach to love. Their love style exudes a sense of fierce devotion, often reminiscent of the legendary loyalty of Bonnie and Clyde.

💋 The love of those with Venus in Leo radiates like the sun, providing warmth and illumination. Their affection serves as a guiding light, offering others a path out of the darkness.

💋 Venus in Leo needs to be careful with who gets access to their light. Like moths to a flame, they can attract extremely dark entities. Essentially, people who only seek to drain them, and are not deserving of their love.

💋 Venus in Leo places a high value on creativity and self-expression within their relationships. They are drawn to partners who share a passion for the arts and creative pursuits.

💋 They seek a partner whom they can proudly showcase, someone who radiates as brightly as they do. They embody a playful, joyful approach to love.

Scorpio Venus: 🥀

🥀 Venus in Scorpio are known for their fiercely protective and unwaveringly loyal nature in love. They wholeheartedly commit to supporting and protecting their partners, often going to great lengths to do so.

🥀 Scorpio Venus approaches love and relationships with a depth, passion, and emotional intensity. They are attracted to partners who they can have a deep meaningful bond with.

🥀 Scorpio Venus highly values emotional intimacy in their relationships. They are often drawn to partners who can match their intensity and fearlessly explore the complexities of the human psyche.

🥀 They are attracted to the mysterious and desire a partner that is just as complex and intriguing as they are. Shallow or superficial connections are unlikely to satisfy their emotional needs.

🥀 Trust holds great significance for Venus in Scorpio. They place a high value on honesty and transparency in their intimate relationships, requiring assurance that they can trust their partner and that their trust will not be betrayed.

🥀 They tend to be possessive of their partners, desiring exclusivity in their relationships. They are prone to feelings of jealousy when they perceive potential outside threats to their relationship. They may consider alternative relationship dynamics, but trust has to be established first.

Aquarius Venus:

🫧 Aquarius Venus can come across as emotionally detached and aloof in their intimate relationships. They are selective about who they open up to, requiring time and trust to feel comfortable enough to share their innermost feelings.

🫧 This Venus placement tends to appreciate the "friends to lovers" dynamic in their intimate relationships. If they do not like you as a friend, it can be difficult to get them to want to commit. They highly value friendship and seek a partner who feels like their best friend.

🫧 Aqua Venus are not usually bound by traditional relationship norms. They are open to diverse dating styles and may not feel compelled to adhere strictly to monogamy. However, this does not imply an inability to commit; rather, they are capable of committing when they find the right person.

🫧 Aquarius Venus highly values their independence outside of their relationships. They seek partners who can respect their need for freedom and personal space. They are often drawn to individuals with their own passions and pursuits and appreciate partners who allow them to maintain their individuality within the relationship.

🫧 Aqua Venus highly values mental stimulation in their relationships and enjoys engaging in deep, philosophical conversations. They are attracted to intelligence and are drawn to individuals who possess unique intellectual perspectives.

🫧 They want a partner who shares their free-spirited nature, and humanitarian values.

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#astrology #zodiac signs #spirituality #astroblr #shadow work #astro placements #zodiac #astrology observations #birth chart #natal chart #venus astrology #zodiac placements #fixed signs #taurus venus #leo venus #scorpio venus #aquarius venus

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creation-help · 7 months

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A special kind of intimacy between characters

[Not restricted to romantic dynamics!]

- I tear bread into smaller pieces to feed them to you, as if I am Jesus, or a mother bird. You may view me as a savior but I would kill for you

- Being there for the other person when they're sick - In a gross, disgusting way. Holding them unwaveringly through the wretched and repulsive, unflinchingly. Don't apologise, just survive. I'd do it again.

- You're scary, but I'm scarier. You don't know that yet, but I hope you won't fear me when you do.

- You're scary, and thank God for that. I'm more than happy to close my eyes when you use it on others. I am a coward.

- One character knowing exactly what the other one would really like to ask for, but is too self conscious or selfless to. Thus, they do it and provide, without the other person needing to outright request it. The self conscious character always makes sure the other one knows it's not obligated and they're always free to decline, and the other one nods firmly, knowing that, and still doing it.

- Sitting next to each other at the end of the world. Because it won't be okay. But they've accepted that

- "You destroyed the thing I love and I can't forgive you for it." "I can't forgive myself either." "I still can't hate you despite that." "I can."

- "Please hate me" "No."

- One character understanding when the other is in too low of a state to act like a decent person currently, and so they don't step over those lines that they'd normally tolerate. The first character holds the other one responsible for things later nonetheless, when they're able to actually carry it

- Two characters sharing the negative perceptions and opinions they've had of each other over the years. This can either lead to a realization that, respectfully, out of deep understanding of each other, they decide to not stay in touch with each other again from now on. Or, it can lead to a realization that thanks to this understanding they now have, they're more ready to become closer and have managed to clear the air with this conversation

- Characters of notably different ages talk and reflect on time that has passed between them. They feel a connection over how different their circumstances were. The younger one audibly wishes they could've done or changed something significant, to which the older character pointedly and gently tells them it wasn't their place to. Let us old crooks handle the tough things. (It wasn't your fault you spent formative years like this. I'm sorry you had to)

#Imagine your oc #Oc dynamics #Oc prompts #Imagine your otp #character imagines #oc imagines #Character dynamics #Ship dynamics #Not all of these are healthy and balanced I know #Just putting that out there #But tumblr loves complex dynamics #Character dynamic ideas #nonsexual intimacy #I use ship related tags for visibility but again NOT ALL THESE ARE ROMANTIC AND CANT BE.#But some can.

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months

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Skull is happy and safe now. But sometimes, the worst habits are the hardest to break.

(Short thing I cooked up while feeling sad. It's pretty angsty, and involves dealing with family death, so be warned, but it has a bittersweet happy ending.)

---

“... Skull?”

...

He didn’t respond. He sat there, staring at the front door, motionless and silent. He’d been like that for almost two hours.

You sat beside him, but he made no move to greet you. He didn’t seem to realise you were even there. It was only when you touched the top of his hand, gently, that he spoke, iris trained unwaveringly on the door.

“... crooks’ll be home soon.” He mumbled.

Ah. Your chest ached... it was one of those days.

... Crooks was Skull’s younger brother. His only family. Skull had told you a lot about him, over the course of your time together- he told you about raising Crooks himself, a consequence of losing their parents at a very young age. He told you about taking care of Crooks before he even knew how to take care of himself. He told you about teaching him to read, to write, to cook, to use magic. He told you about Crooks’ love of puzzles and logic games, his bombastic personality and endless kindness, the hours he spent pouring over junior jumble. He told you about how when his own depressive episodes became too much, Crooks kept him from slipping. He told you about how, since before he could remember, it had always been the two of them. They were an inseparable pair.

...

Crooks had fallen to hopelessness, in the Underground. Only a few years before the Monsters were freed.

... Skull didn’t talk much about those last years. You didn’t ask. But Skull clearly never recovered from losing the last piece of his family. Deluding himself into believing that his brother was simply ‘out’ and would come home soon was his only way of coping. Of surviving.

Even now, he still wasn't good at being alone.

Skull was better, on the surface. He had new friends and acquaintances. New routines, new comforts. He had you- his partner. But sometimes, when he had bad days, he would slip back into the mental patterns that had kept him alive for so long.

... You wondered how many hours Skull had spent, alone in a silent home, down in the Underground. Waiting for Crooks to come back. Staring blankly at a door that would never open again.

...

You took his hand in both of yours. You played gently with his worn, cracked bones... giving him a little more time in a world where his brother was still alive.

...

“Skull?” You said, softly. “... I’m a bit hungry. Could you make me something?”

That was the only thing that ever worked.

...

His eyelight shifted. Then blossomed a little wider... his mouth started to make minute movements, like he was sleeptalking.

“... hungry.” He eventually said aloud. His hand twitched, then carefully curled around yours- he sounded like he still wasn’t all there.

“Yes.”

“... she’s hungry...” His eyelight flickered again. “... get up... she’s... hungry...”

Skull swayed slightly, then stood. You stood with him... he lumbered to the kitchen, but kept a tight hold of your hand, taking you with him.

...

He was already cutting the steak, when you saw him ‘wake up’.

There was a noticeable pause, in his ministrations. The previously almost-robotic movements of the knife slowed to a halt. You saw his eyelight shiver... he blinked, then started slowly looking around at the room.

His line of sight focused on a vase full of flowers. The two of you had set those up, around the house, always within line of sight. Things that would remind him he’s on the surface now.

Two seconds. Three, four...

...

“... sorry.” He mumbled, putting the knife down. There he was; Skull was back. He seemed embarrassed.

“Hey, hey.” You squeezed his hand. “No, don’t apologise. It’s okay. You just needed a minute.”

He sighed, forlorn. “i cut up our good steak...”

“Well. I’d rather you handled that steak than me. I don’t trust myself with something so nice.”

He snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. When he looked at you, his eyelight was big and shiny, and you felt a smile creep onto your face.

“... might as well cook it anyway.” He mumbled, taking the knife up again. “expensive steak for lunch, huh?”

“I’m not complaining.”

Another snort. He was grinning now.

He didn’t let go of your hand... you were impressed he cooked the whole meal one-handed.

#llama writes #sad skull hours

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bratzforchris · 29 days

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Inked Daisies (Chapter 4)

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Read Chapter 3 here

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is more of a fluffy filler chapter, but I still love it because soft and grumpy Matt <33 Enjoy!!

“Get away from me,” Matt growled, swatting Nick’s attempt to wipe the dried blood off his nose with a wet cloth. “‘M fine.”

The vibe inside your small apartment was less than comfortable. Matt was leaning against the kitchen countertop, holding an ice pack to his bruising cheek while his older brother tried (and failed) to doctor him up. You wanted to help the boys, you really did, but you were still a bit shaken up from the events of the evening. You felt awful that Chris had had to stay at work while the three of you headed home. You curled yourself into your blanket burrito further, watching with wide eyes.

“Fine. If you wanna be a bitch, deal with it yourself. It’s your fault, anyway.” Nick hissed, stalking off to another room.

Matt sighed, looking like he wanted to say something to Nick, but he didn’t. He simply watched his brother go, still holding the ice pack to his cheek. Before you knew, the brunette was sitting beside you, scrolling through his phone. In the light of the dim lamp that you had turned on, you examined Matt closely, looking at the tattoos that littered his bare arms and the small, silver ring that glinted in his nose. Despite his bruising cheek, black eye, and bloody noses, you felt a small twinge of butterflies in your stomach at his shirtlessness.

“Are you okay?” You whispered softly, trying to keep all your emotions from coming out in your voice.

Matt sighed, placing the ice pack on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch cushions, hands tangled in his hair. “I’m fucking tired.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know…” You murmured, scooting closer and unfolding the blanket across your friend’s lap as well.

“He fucking touched you without your permission.” Matt growled, blue eyes darkening as he turned his head to look at you.

“I know…and I appreciate you protecting me. But I don’t want you to get seriously injured over some asshole.”

“He touched you without your permission.” Matt grumbled unwaveringly, folding his arms over his chest.

In a leap of faith, you moved all the way next to Matt leaning your head against his shoulder. The boy wasn’t exactly the affectionate, cuddly type like his brothers, but he didn’t move when you did so. He simply flinched softly before relaxing, making no noise besides the soft rise and fall of his breathing. You relaxed into the soft warmth of Matt’s body heat for a moment, letting the room air out before you spoke again.

“You’re special.” You hummed.

Matt raised his eyebrow, looking at you resting on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“No one has ever done that for me…” Now that the adrenaline in your body had relaxed, you found yourself smiling at Matt’s actions. You didn’t like that he had been hurt, of course, but the fact that he would go to those lengths to protect you lit a fire in your heart. “So thank you.”

“You deserve that. Anyone does,” Matt mumbled. “No one should be touched without their permission.”

You simply made a small noise of acknowledgement, before returning to your quiet state for a bit. It wasn’t until you heard the brunette let out a muffled groan that you looked up, brows furrowing with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“C’mon Matt, don’t lie,” You poked his stomach gently, not missing how his cheeks reddened. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Something.” You huffed in a way that was unintentionally adorable.

“You’re annoying.” he grumbled, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You haven't made a move to get me off your shoulder, though.” You pointed out.

Matt rolled his eyes, finally speaking softly. “Jus’ have a headache.”

“From the fight or…?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Your friend admitted quietly.

Matt’s insomnia was no secret to you. In fact, you were the exact same way. There had been many nights where you two would both be awake long after Nick and Chris. You were never loud, or did much, but you were empathetic to each other’s pain. Physically not being able to sleep over a long stretch of time was awful, especially when you had particularly bad episodes. That was probably the reason you and Matt even had anything more than acquaintanceship. Your ‘problems’ that the other two triplets didn’t have brought you together, like the nights in high school that you both spent poring over his sketchbook.

“I know this question fucking sucks, but is there anything I can do?” You asked softly, still laying on his shoulder.

“Could um,” Matt swallowed down the lump in his throat; he fucking hated depending on people or asking for help. “Could I have some Ibuprofen? Please?”

Your face dropped into a frown at Matt’s simple, yet pleading request. You stood up off the couch, covering Matt with the rest of the blanket you’d been occupying. “I’ll be right back.” You said with a smile.

You made your way into the ensuite bathroom connected to your bedroom, noticing Nick had made himself at home, watching Rupaul’s on your television. “Hey.”

The oldest triplet paused the show, turning to look at you. “Is he letting you play doctor?” Nick asked, observing how you were rifling through your medicine cabinet.

“Kind of,” You shrugged, grabbing the bottle of pain reliever, as well as the small bottle of melatonin that you kept for the awful nights, in vain hope the supplement would work. “I think tonight was more of an emotional thing than anything.”

Nick knew exactly what you were referencing. “Oh?”

“He said he hasn’t been sleeping well,” You shook the small bottle of pills. “I get that way. When you’re so sleep deprived, you aren’t exactly rational.”

Your friend knew about your own struggles with sleep, which made him more understanding as to why Matt was opening up more to you. “I figured. He’s just never been violent like that. It was kinda shocking is all.”

“He’s not violent, Nick,” You scolded. “He was worried and thought that was the appropriate thing to do. He was defending me.” You found yourself blushing at the way you were defending the middle triplet, hoping it wasn’t overly visible.

“You got a crush on Matt?” Nick asked with a chuckle, never out of tune with people’s body language.

“Don’t be stupid.” You rolled your eyes, making your way towards the door.

“Okay, lovergirl.”

You ignored that little comment, opting instead to stop in the kitchen and get Matt a snack before you brought him the medicine. Despite being a florist, you found yourself drawn to nursing and healthcare. There was no way in hell you would let anyone take Ibuprofen on an empty stomach. You found a lone granola bar laying on your countertop, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge as well.

“I come bearing gifts!” You smiled cheerfully, coming around the couch and plopping everything in Matt’s lap.

The brunette hadn’t moved since you’d been gone. All he had done was shrug the blanket closer around his shoulder, leaning his head back against the couch cushions, eyes closed softly. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought Matt was asleep, but the dark bags under his eyes and the soft twitching of his eyelids told you otherwise. He blinked his eyes open softly, the standard bright blue that was Sturniolo eyes significantly dulled.

“Thank you. My head is fucking killing me.” he groaned.

You shook out three Ibuprofen into your palm, along with one melatonin and passed them to Matt. “Take these and then eat and then you sir will be watching your favorite movie and relaxing.”

Despite feeling like shit, Matt rolled his eyes. “It’s like my mother is here right now and she’s in Boston.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Matt said nothing more for a moment until he shot up. “Shit. Not like…like that,” he blabbed. “As a friend, I mean. God, I’m sorry. That was weird.”

You had never heard Matt speak so many words in one sentence, nor were you expecting him to say he loved you. “I…” You chuckled and burst out laughing, desperately fighting the warm feeling spreading through your insides. “How much did you drink, Matt?”

“None.” he said pointedly, hating the way his cheeks were flushing.

You noticed the way Matt was fidgeting softly, most likely feeling embarrassed. “You know, I’ve known you for seven years and I still don’t know what your favorite movie is,” You grabbed the remote for your TV off the coffee table in an effort to not shove Matt back into his shell after he’d just opened up to you. “What is your favorite movie?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.” Matt said plainly, starting to eat the snack you had brought him.

“Tell me,” You pouted. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

“Nope.”

“Tell me or I’ll tickle you.” You said with an evil grin.

“You promise you won’t laugh?” the annoyance in Matt’s tone had been replaced by the same soft Matt that had made his appearance earlier.

You couldn’t lie. As few and far-between as your one-on-one hangouts with Matt were, you liked this side of him. It was different, in the best way possible. Gone was the rough exterior that the rest of the world got to experience. This Matt felt more human, almost making you wish that he could be more than just your best friend’s brother.

“I promise I won’t laugh.” You acknowledged with a gentle, genuine smile, cuddling up to his side again.

Matt swallowed down the pills you had supplied him with, taking a swig of water afterwards. “...it’s Tangled.”

“Really?” You felt like your heart could burst in your chest at the moment. Rapunzel had been your favorite princess for as long as the movie had been out. You hadn’t been expecting that answer from a ‘tough guy’ tattoo artist, but when you really thought about it, the movie suited Matt perfectly. “That’s mine too!”

Matt looked down at you, resting on his shoulder, an emotion he couldn’t explain overtaking him. “You’re just like Rapunzel. Chatty and naive…but very kind.”

“Thanks? I think?” You chuckled, migrating over to Disney+ and flicking on the movie. “Now relax. Chris will kill me if he comes home and realizes we ditched him for no reason.”

The brunette hummed a soft agreement, keeping his eyes fixated on the screen as the movie began to play. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, like the fact that he didn’t think you were truly chatty or naive, or that he appreciated you truly caring for him more than he could ever speak, or that the reason for the early departure from the club wasn’t for no reason; someone had hurt someone he loved, and when that happened, he had a problem with it. Instead, he said nothing else, choosing to refuse to acknowledge his brain screaming at him that he had just said and thought that he loved you. You were Chris’ best friend, and by extension, his as well.

You two fell into an easy rhythm, watching the movie with sleepy eyes. The next thing you knew, Matt had shifted so that he was able to lay down more, resting his head on your chest. You practically froze with shock, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your heart began to beat wildly. This was new territory between the two of you. Whenever you shared platonic cuddles with Nick and Chris, you always initiated. Matt always declined your invitation to join, until now. You relaxed back into the couch cushions, listening to his breathing even out as he shrugged the blanket more over the two of you. At that moment, you realized that you could've stayed this way forever. You hoped that whatever possessed Matt to open up tonight stuck around, because this felt like true progress in your friendship.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked up as the door to your apartment opened quietly, the clock reading 3:37 AM. You had given all three of the triplets keys to your place, knowing that you trusted them quite literally more than anyone else you knew. Chris stepped into the entryway, looking drained as he set down his backpack and slid off his Vans.

“Hey,” You whispered softly so as not to disturb Matt and his movie. “Did everything else go okay?”

Chris nodded, not yet noticing the position you and Matt were in. “I mean, fights are pretty common. People moved on quickly,” he shrugged. It was then that the boy noticed how Matt was laying, his brows perking curiously. “Is he…asleep?”

You had noticed that Matt’s breathing had become more even, but you hadn’t thought that he had actually fallen asleep. You had assumed that the movie would’ve held his attention, but then again, the events of the night, combined with being dead tired and melatonin, was a match for Matt. You looked down at the sleepy boy on your chest, hiding your fond smile. “Yeah.”

“Hmmm.” Chris hummed in acknowledgement, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“I think that’s why what happened tonight…happened,” You said softly. “He hasn’t been sleeping, Chris.”

“He never does,” Chris’ tone suddenly became cynical as he stood up off the couch, padding back into the kitchen. “Kid never learns.”

“Is everything…okay?”

“Just tired,” Chris smiled at you as he poured himself a glass of water, trying to ease your mind. It wasn’t your fault that Matt couldn’t sleep. “Is it cool if I stay over?”

“You know it is,” You teased, thankful that whatever fog had laid between you two for a moment had lifted. “What was it you told me last month? That’s like asking about your own house?”

“God, you have the memory of an elephant when you want to.” he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I know,” You smirked smugly. “G’night Chris.”

“Night, Y/N.” he said fondly, placing a soft, friendly kiss to the back of your head as he made his way into your guest room.

You switched off the television, placing the remote on the coffee table once more and covering yourself and Matt fully with the blanket. You laid a pillow behind your back, making yourself more comfortable to sleep. As much as you loved your bed, you hated the idea of disturbing Matt, especially knowing that he had been struggling to sleep lately. If letting him rest meant you were sleeping on the couch, you would do it.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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sadgirlbadpoems · 3 months

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I think that the Supernatural fandom doesn't give Dean Winchester enough credit or hold John Winchester accountable nearly enough. I would argue that John's abuse (mental, emotional and physical) and its constant effect in both boys lives is constantly downplayed by a majority of the fanbase.

The parentification of an elder sibling has been proven to cause lasting issues and we see this throughout the show; when Dean is overly protective of Sam, treats Sam's life as more valuable than his own, can't picture a life where he's not needed, and his dismissal of Sam as a valuable contributor in an equal partnership. Dean is often criticized both in canon and by fans for being overbearing and codependent on Sam. This is a direct result of John Winchester's inability to parent.

Dean's emotional repression is shown to be caused by his father's militant behaviors and approach to parenting. Dean doesn't see his feelings as valid or important and thus turns to repression or unhealthy coping mechanisms as illustrated throughout the show. His alcoholism, violent outbursts, and unhealthy relationship with sex are all coping mechanisms he uses not to feel.

Through flashbacks (and some dialog) the viewer is show that Sam is more resentful towards John than Dean, and that he even holds resentment towards Dean for being the "perfect little soldier".

That's part of the reason Castiel is such a great foil for Dean, both are loyal to absent fathers' but while Dean was born with free will he follows his father's orders unwaveringly until sometime after his death, Cass a being created without free will breaks free of the command of his father and from his father's mission, becoming for all intents and purposes a Prodigal son like Sam.

Dean's adherence to his father's word is, much like Sam's rebellion a response to continued and repeated abuse, neither brother is perfect. And their father was the furthest thing from it.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #john winchester bashing #cw alcohol #tw abuse #cw sex mention #am i really talking about this in 2024 #spn #castiel #dean deserved better #sam did too #parentified child #sorry for the rant #i have so many thoughts #and feelings

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messylustt · 1 year

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murderous — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : he tried to get you out of the city, but it’s too late…

contents : reader death. blood and violence. angry ethan. quinn being a bitch. wc 1.2k

You watch in horror as a friend you’d grown close to over the past year take off his Ghostface mask. Ethan Landry stares back at you, cold. But inside he’s burning. He had tried to get you out of the city, dropping subtle hints, but nothing seemed to work. He hadn’t wanted you to get caught up in his family’s revenge plan.

But here you were, eyes wide, with blood trickling down your forehead. Ethan hissed at Quinn. “You said you’d leave her alone.”

Quinn tilts her head, mockingly pouting. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you fucking did.” Ethan leers at Quinn, but detective Bailey intercepts. “That’s enough.”

Your backed up beside Tara and Sam, huddling protectively as your heart sank to the floor. Of course Ethan was Ghostface, how could you be so stupid to befriend him? You hadn’t known, but you should’ve. Never trust anyone.

Ethan looks back to you, suddenly feeling sick. His stomach hadn’t churned when he repeatedly stabbed Chad in the chest and stomach not mere moments ago. But your shaky breathes and betrayed gaze penetrates him more than any of his killings ever could.

He liked you. He liked being around you, talking to you. And now you hated him. You’d never be close to him again. Because now you could die. Ethan sucks in a breath, his grip on his knife tightening.

“Stop being so pussy whipped Ethan, and stab the bitch.” Quinn exasperates. Ethan shoots her a glare, wanting to stab her instead.

“Oh, shut up Quinn.” Ethan had never felt so angry—at everyone. All except you. He hated Sam and Tara for killing his brother. He hated his dad and sister for dragging you into this mess. But he could never hate you, with your sweet words and smiling face.

But you weren’t smiling, and he’d never hear that sugary tone again. Because now your shooting daggers at him, your stages of grief reaching mad.

You and the Carpenter sisters are holding bricks, prepared as weapons if any one of the fucked up family members decides to attack.

“Stay the fuck back!” Sam exclaims, gripping the brick tighter.

Quinn jumps at Sam swiping her knife across her upper arm. You jolt beside her, fear heavily prominent in your eyes.

Fuck, Ethan thinks. He didn’t like that expression. You were afraid…of him. God, no.

When your gazes met, you were gulping, praying to get away from here. Ethan was staring, unwaveringly focused. But when his dad began to speak explaining their plan he had to look away.

“…but of course my son had to make a friend. A real one.” Detective Bailey said, eyeing you. “He got too distracted, didn’t you, Ethan?” Bailey turns to Ethan waving his gun around.

Ethan ground his teeth, jaw tightening.

“And would you look at that?” Bailey continues watching Ethan. “He looks a little too effected, don’t you think?” He turns to Quinn who nods, a sadistic smile appearing on her face.

Bailey turns back to look at you. “We’ve come so far. It would be a shame for this to blow up just because Ethan’s young mind wandered.” Bailey pauses for a moment as your breath hitches. “So, I’m afraid this kills gonna have to be quick.”

He’s then aiming his gun at you and a bullet flies. Ethan doesn’t have time to react before it hits you. A wet patch begins to form on your sweatshirt as you touch your wound. You stumble back, choking, as you hear Sam and Tara rushing to you. Your hip hits one of the glass casings, before your sliding down to the floor.

Then you feel a hand cupping the back of your neck. Another holding you from falling more. Your coughing blood. Your eyes are slightly rolling as pain shoots through you.

Sam and Tara stare in equal fear and shock at Ethan who is holding onto you, pressing his own hand to your gushing wound. “No, no, no. Don’t you fucking— y/n.” He breathes, trying to tap your face to keep you from closing your eyes.

“Aw, I almost feel bad.” Quinn comments.

“Your a fucking bitch Quinn!” Ethan exclaims, red hot anger rolling off of him in waves. But it seems only Sam and Tara catch the desperation in his tone.

Ethan grabs your face. “Y/n stay the fuck awake.”

“Y-your a killer.” You choke out through your mouthful of blood.

“N-no. Y/n. I’m—” but he was. He wasn’t that delusional to think he wasn’t. “I’m sorry.” He decides on saying.

“No your not.”

“Yes I fucking am. But your not gonna die, you hear me?” Ethan breathes. He suddenly feels something on his shoulder. Whipping his head up he sees his dad, his gun tapping for his attention.

“Come on son, let her go. This is for the best.”

The best? The fucking best? Ethan lost it, grabbing his dads gun and tossing it aside. He swiftly stands and yanks hard on his collar, throwing him into one of the glass casings. Bailey is genuinely shocked as he gapes at his son.

“Listen, what are—” Bailey angrily tries but Ethan is quick to cut him off.

“No, you fucking listen!” He rages, holding his knife out. “I told you not to touch her! She wasn’t apart of the plan, she didn’t fucking need to be!”

“Our plan was to avenge your brother! Don’t give me this bullshit. She was apart of their so called friend group, so is automatically on our hit list!”

“Oh, I really don’t care dad. Kill the sisters.” Ethan gestures to Sam and Tara with his knife. “Do it. But don’t you think for one moment she is gonna die.” He gestures back to you.

Bailey follows the knife, stopping on you. But then a smile begins to form on the older man’s face making Ethan’s brows furrow.

“I think you may have to change your last statement, son.”

Ethan quickly looks to you and only sees a body. Your still, face drained of colour, and chest not moving. No. Ethan rushes over. No. Ethan taps your cheek. God, no. Ethan shakes you, gulping down the arising bile. Please.

Your cold, and when he feels your pulse, or where he should feel it, he freezes. He doesn’t think twice, his brain not being able to compute anything but rage. Any other emotion would break him.

He aims his knife straight into his dads chest, a satisfying squelching sound breaking the heavy breaths. Bailey screams, Ethan’s fast movements catching him off guard.

Quinn is rushing forward, but Ethan is twisting the knife, Baileys shirt and skin tearing as blood began to pool out. His screams reach Ethan’s ears only egging him on. He couldn’t feel anything but anger. Raw and murderous.

Quinn is trying to pull her dad away, before she tries to swipe at Ethan. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She exclaims.

But Ethan doesn’t stop ripping down baileys chest as he squirms. He can’t see him as his father anymore. He just took away the one thing that made him feel good.

When his knife dropped away, Detective Bailey fell to the ground, as Quinn quickly tried to aid him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen.

And when Ethan glanced back at your lifeless body, your last words swirling in his head (y-your a killer. I’m sorry. No your not), he almost felt bad for the people he was about to murder. You were right…he was a killer.

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #jack champion x y/n #scream #scream 6

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bahrmp3 · 11 months

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[ID: 9 gifs from season 4, episode 13 “crossfire” from the tv series “star trek: deep space nine”, the gifs show odo and worf inside odo's office.

1st gif: odo and worf are looking at a screen, "providing security was difficult enough aboard the enterprise. it appears to be next to impossible on this station." worf tells odo, and turns away from the screen. odo shakes his head and replies, "it isn't easy."

2nd gif: worf is standing in front of odo's desk, he is holding his padd. "i prefer a more... orderly environment." he tells odo, who replies "we have that in common."

3rd gif: camera cuts to show odo standing in front of the screen, he tells worf, "my people have an innate need for order." worf asks odo, "how do you tolerate living here?"

4th gif: odo has walked to his desk, and sat on it. he tells worf, "i make order where i can. for one thing, i have a daily routine which i follow unwaveringly. the shopkeepers on the promenade joke that they can set their clocks by me."

5th gif: worf is looking down at his padd, he tells odo, "unfortunately, i have found it difficult to establish a routine here."

6th gif: odo is also working on his padd, he tells worf, "there are other ways to create order in your life, your quarters,"

7th gif: camera cuts to worf, who has stopped working on his padd, and is looking at odo as he speaks, "for example. everything in mine has its specific place,"

8th gif: back to odo, he gestures with the other padd he is holding in his left hand as he finishes his sentence, "and it's all arranged just so."

9th gif: worf agrees with odo's sentiment and returns it. "yes, mine, too. even with my eyes closed, i would still know where everything was." /end ID]

#startrekedit #scifiedit #deep space nine #ds9 #deepspacenineedit #ds9edit #worf son of mogh #ds9 odo #my stuff #*#**#tv*#tv**#ds9*#ds9**#their scenes together felt like autistic mind to mind communication legit think this is the exact text i sent fra #even more so with the next part ill post in a bit

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sluttywoozi · 1 year

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On My Worst Behavior

Warnings: not proofread, facefucking, spit kink, rough vernon

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~0.6k

“Fuck,” Vernon breathes, his head dropping back to rest on the couch as you swallow him down again.

His hips buck up, sending his cock further down your throat and making you choke, your gag reflex valiantly repressed just for him. You’ve always let him take what he wants, always loved giving it to him, whether it’s letting him fuck your mouth like he is now or bending you over whatever surface is available like he will later. He used to hold back, nervous about being so careless with you, but by now he knows very well just how wet you get when he’s rough.

He grips your jaw with calloused fingers, his thumb tracing over your thundering pulse before pressing into the column of your neck just so he can feel your throat working around him. You sputter a bit when he shoves his cock deeper into your mouth but he knows you’re drenching your panties, knows that if he slid his hand between your legs it would come away sopping wet, knows he could probably sink into you right now if he wanted to, your cunt always ready to stretch for him no matter how fucking tight you feel once he’s inside.

He’s happy with your mouth for now, but he likes it messy so he pushes you off with the hand on your throat and hooks two fingers over your bottom lip, pressing them down on your tongue and pulling your lips apart so he can lean down and spit into your mouth.

“Spit it on my cock, baby,” Vernon demands, his voice gravelly with pleasure and his balls tightening up at the sight you make.

Your lips are swollen, wet and shiny and so fucking pretty, your mascara trailing down your face from the tears that have been leaking from your eyes, which stare unwaveringly into Vernon’s as you purse your lips and let the spit dribble onto his dick.

You move your hand up to spread the slickness but that’s not what he wants and you know it, so when he quirks a brow and lets his mouth harden into a thin line, you take his cock between your lips and slowly slide it back onto your tongue, your lips pushing the wetness down his length until it’s buried in your throat and the spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth.

“That’s it, fuck,” he groans, the sound coming from deep in his chest as you start to bob your head, your fingernails digging into his jean-covered thighs and your knees tightly clenched together.

You probably want something inside but he’s not ready to give it to you yet, wants to let that aching emptiness build until you’re desperate for it, until you cry for it, until you beg him for it.

And you will beg him, he knows from experience, but you can’t with his cock stuffed in your mouth and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you down and controlling your pace.

He lets the smirk spread his lips, his black eye stinging at the rise of his cheek, and lets you up for air, grinning when your wet gasps meet his ears.

You suck in deep breaths and smooth your hands up and down his thighs, your brows screwing up as you struggle to find your voice.

“Vernon, please, please fuck me.”

“You can do better than that, can’t you, sweetheart?”

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