#something that even if it were true would warrant like

[jupiterjunebug]

iwc wild bc sometimes someone will say "i dont fuck with this wrestler because hes a bad person and he should be deplatformed" and that means, like, the person confessed they did things that theyd have gone to jail for if they werent a public figure.

Then sometimes it means "i saw a tweet one time where someone said that they knew a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy that wrestled in the indies 15 years ago and that guy says that he DEFINITELY did this thing that's wrong no i do not have access to the tweet OR any specifics or names of sources and if you google it it won't show up."

And sometimes its "I will not even tell you what they supposedly did, just that everyone KNOWS they are bad. No nothing will pop up if you google them aside from tweets saying that everyone knows."

[batemanofficial]

.

[gojoux]

『 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 』

· Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

· Summary: Life has decided to lead you to him or lead him to you, knowing that you two are destined together despite your differences. This told story is just a glimpse of a few memories between you and him, one that he remembers dearly.

· CW: 8.6k // Mostly fluff. True Form!Sukuna. Heian Era. Overprotective + Possessive Sukuna. Very subtle sex scenes. Slight violence.

Late post because the app screwed me over a divider. As you see... it’s thicker like him than usual.

The infamous King of Curses had only one weakness—you.

Ryomen Sukuna, the most fearsome sorcerer (or used to be one) alive, would melt in your presence. His usual cold and cruel demeanor vanished when he was with you, replaced by a gentle sweetness he showed to no other.

From the very first moment your paths crossed, he was utterly enthralled, something he would never expect to feel in his life. You’re someone he doesn’t even know or heard of and he doesn’t find the appeal from you, but there’s just something about you that makes him enchanted at first sight.

Your luminous soul called to him like a song. He knew you were destined to be his. And so he courted you as tenderly as his blackened heart would allow, coaxing you to return his affections.

Slowly, gently, he broke down your defenses. His smoldering gazes made your heart flutter. His feather-light touches from his big, strong hands and fingers sent shivers down your spine. Before long, you realized you were falling for this demon who looked at you with such longing in his crimson eyes.

He could shower you with all the passion and devotion he had been holding back. He cherishes you, catering to your every desire. Just being near you was euphoric for him.

When apart, he counted the seconds until he could see you again. And when reunited, he was unable to keep his hands off you, showering you with passionate kisses and whispers of sweet words.

“You are mine. Remember that,” he would murmur against your skin as he held you close. “Always.”

You had tamed the beast. Or so you thought.

While Sukuna was nearly defenseless against your love, it also ignited something far more sinister—his jealousy.

The mere idea of losing you made his blood burn with rage. Other men were not even permitted to look at you, lest they get torn limb from limb.

Though deeply in love, Sukuna’s possessive nature remained. And woe befall any who dared threaten what was his.

The first time it happened was weeks after you’d become his. A young lord from a clan sent you gifts and flowers, seeking your affection. When Sukuna discovered this, the fury in his eyes turned them molten gold.

“He dares think he can steal you away from me?” Sukuna seethed. In an instant, he vanished to hunt down the offending lord.

He returned hours later drenched in blood that was not his own. You shuddered to imagine what cruel fate had befallen the misguided young man. Sukuna said nothing of it, simply pulled you into a bruising kiss and swore you’d never leave his side again.

After that, the corpses started piling up.

A guard who eyed you lasciviously, eviscerated.

A peasant whose longing stare lingered too long, executed.

Anyone who so much as looked at you with desire was signing their own death warrant.

You begged Sukuna to show mercy, but your pleas fell on deaf ears. “They try to take what is mine,” he would snarl. “They deserve no less than agony and death.”

His demonic nature had fully resurfaced, and you realized just what you had unleashed. Sukuna would slaughter legions and burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you.

You were terrified of what he had become. Yet some traitorous part of you thrilled at being so coveted, so passionately loved, even if it came at a bloody cost.

He was an obsession incarnate, and you, his obsession.

No matter where you turned, his shadow loomed.

There would be no escaping the King of Curses’ dark desires.

You were his.

How did it all start? It’s been too long since it went past your head already.

But you do remember vividly when you were walking that one night when your gut told you not to, you did.

You should have listened to your instincts. But there was something about the forest at night that called to you, beckoning you to explore its moon-bathed paths and whispering trees.

Curiosity won out over caution, and you decided one quick walk couldn’t hurt.

You set out just after sunset, relishing the kiss of cool night air on your skin. The woods were serene and lovely in the deep blue hush just before true darkness fell. Night blooms perfumed the air as you wandered along aimlessly, simply savoring this secret world.

Until you realized you had lost your way. Suddenly the trees seemed more ominous, the shadows deeper. You paused, peering anxiously through the gloom.

How long have you been walking?

Which way was home?

As you turned around in circles trying to get your bearings, a blow of wind appeared behind you. You froze, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You whipped around with a gasp. Emerging from the trees was a tall, powerfully built man. But what drew your wide-eyed stare were the four arms crossed onto his bare, toned chest.

You stumbled back in terror, but he moved unnaturally fast, appearing before you in an instant. Up close, details that had escaped you at a distance were now frighteningly clear. Tattoos are carved on his face and body. His eyes burned crimson.

You were face to face with the King of Curses himself.

“Please…” you whimpered, trembling. “I mean no trespass...”

Sukuna tilted his head, considering you with evident amusement. He reached out an arm towards you, his fingers gliding along your jaw, tipping your chin up. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for death.

But instead of tearing you apart, he simply chuckled. “Open your eyes. I will not harm you.”

You cracked them open hesitantly. Sukuna was observing you closely now, intrigued.

“Fear not. I merely wondered who was wandering my woods at this late hour,” he purred. “But I see now… you are no threat at all.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he traced the line of your throat. You shivered but did not dare pull away. The heat of his skin felt feverish against yours.

“What brings you here to me, I wonder?” he murmured, his piercing gaze seeming to lay your soul bare.

He tutted, circling you slowly. “These woods are dangerous at night, especially for tempting morsels like yourself. Do you have any idea what lurks in the shadows?” He paused expectantly, but you were too petrified to respond.

You licked your dry lips nervously. “I… I was simply exploring. I did not mean to disturb—”

“Quiet.” A finger pressed lightly over your mouth. “How shall I punish this trespass? I do hate uninvited guests.”

You finally found your voice, though it trembled pitifully. “P-please, I meant no intrusion. If you let me go, I swear I will never—”

“Let you go?” Sukuna tilted his head, looking almost offended. “Now, why would I do that? No, you will not be leaving.”

Your heart hammered at those enigmatic words. Just what did this dangerous being want with you? Surely not anything good.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna laughed once more. “Worry not, little one. I only wish for some company.” In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between you, caging you with his body. This close, the heat pouring off him was incredible, the coils of his tattoos seeming to slither and shift before your eyes with your heart hammering wildly.

A violent shudder went through you, though not entirely from fear now. Being clasped in his strong embrace had stirred something unexpected within you. A strange exhilaration at having caught the eye of this exotic and terrible being.

He leaned down, inhaling deeply near the crook of your neck. “Mm, such fear. I can taste it rolling off your skin… intoxicating.” His lips grazed your fluttering pulse, making you shudder. “You are afraid, yet also thrilled to see me, aren’t you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Was it that obvious, the traitorous excitement you felt being so close to this dangerous demon? You just couldn’t tear your eyes away from his unusual beauty.

“I thought so,” he purred, looking utterly satisfied. He brushed a finger lightly down your cheek. “It seems fate has brought you to me for a reason.”

Sukuna sensed your reaction and made a small pleased noise. In one smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms and started carrying you deeper into the woods.

You gasped, hands braced against the solid muscles of his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? Please, I never meant to intrude! I am sorry! just—”

“Shut it.” His grip tightened. “Do not fight me. Submit, and it will go easier for you.”

Tears of panic spilled down your cheeks. But despite your fear, you felt your body responding to his proximity, pulsing with alarming warmth. Your thoughts scattered as Sukuna claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting your helpless whimper.

“What are you…” you gasped, too speechless to find a word to fight back.

As if reading your mind again, Sukuna adjusts the way he’s carrying you to brush his lips against your own in a feather-light caress. “I hope you are not too afraid, little one. I have been alone for so long, you will keep me company. And I have no intention of letting you go.”

Some part of you recognized the truth in his words. No matter how your mind recoiled, your body was betraying you, longing for more of his addictive caresses. He sensed your crumbling resistance, his smile triumphant.

“You are mine now. Do not fight it.”

You stared around in awe at the sprawling shinden-zukuri as Sukuna placed you down and led you inside. Paper screens glowed warmly with lantern light, illuminating opulent tatami rooms decorated with priceless scrolls and vases, and through meticulously tended gardens dotted with tranquil ponds. Everything about this place spoke of immense power and wealth.

It was a far cry from your own humble village dwelling. You could scarcely fathom how a demon lord had come to possess such a magnificent noble estate out here in the remote forest.

As Sukuna guided you deeper into the manse, you passed several elegantly dressed women in simple yet elegant kimonos, all keeping their gazes demurely lowered.

‘Servants,’ you realized. But where had they come from? Were they taken like how you are now? Were you about to become another of his servants?

When you reached the main manor, Sukuna slid open the screen to reveal a grand receiving chamber. Priceless ink scrolls and painted silk screens adorned the walls. The opulence was staggering.

“Do you like it?” he asked, noting your awe. “I claimed this estate long ago from its previous owners.”

You shivered at the implication behind those words but said nothing as he guided you deeper inside.

Your bemused wondering was interrupted when Sukuna slid open a screen door, ushering you into a lavish bed chamber. A large futon covered in silks took up most of the space.

“You must be weary, little one,” he stroked your hair. “Rest now. I will have my servants draw you a bath.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before gliding from the room. Still stunned by your opulent surroundings, you wandered over to the open window. Beyond the manicured gardens and koi ponds you could see nothing but dense forest stretching endlessly. Just how far had Sukuna brought you?

You had little time to ponder before two servant women appeared, bowing deeply. They poured hot water into a carved wooden tub and then added cherry blossom-scented oils.

You let them help you disrobe and sink into the fragrant bath, the tension in your muscles unwinding. The demon’s domain was still terrifying and foreign, but you couldn’t deny the comforts he lavished upon you. His possession had a gentleness to it that left you conflicted.

This place treated you better in less than two hours than your whole life in the village.

After your bath, the servants dressed you in silken robes layered in rich hues of wisteria and spring leaves. Darkened your lips with crushed berries. They arranged your hair with jade combs and dabbed perfume at your wrists in a courtly fashion.

Examining their work in a bronze mirror, you barely recognized yourself. The simple village girl staring back from the bronze mirror was gone, replaced by someone who looked like a noblewoman.

Sukuna was waiting when you emerged, hungry eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “Beautiful,” he pulls you close to him. His lips grazed your wrist, inhaling the perfume there. “You will come to appreciate the comforts of being mine.” His words sent an illicit tingle through you.

“Thank you,” was all you could say as you felt your body sway toward him, eyelashes fluttering downward demurely. His attentions were clouding your caution, making you forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

Sukuna seemed pleased by your response. He took your hand and led you to a candlelit room where a feast awaited. You kneeled on plush cushions across from him. There, your eyes widen at the sight—dishes you could only dream of tasting.

“Uraume is my best cook. They know how to make delicious food,” he brags, pointing at the person with white bob hair with his eyes. Uraume bowed respectfully before excusing themselves.

As the night deepened, Sukuna kept your cup full, his burning gaze holding yours in the romantic glow. Here in this place of luxury, it was easy to forget he was someone who had stolen you away.

“Come.” He held out one of his hands. “It is time you rested.”

Back in the bed chamber, he guided you down onto silken sheets while your pulse quickened. His eyes roamed your body hungrily before he leaned down to claim your lips in a deep kiss. You knew you should resist, but his touch ignited a dangerous fire inside.

His fingers trailed delicately along your skin as he peeled away each layer of your robes until you were laid bare before him. “You are so lovely, little one,” he rasped. He pressed you down into the silken futon, his eyes focused on you. “I will teach you pleasures fit for an empress,” he growled.

“And you will learn to crave my body above all else.”

His words sent a spike of fear through you, even as your traitorous body responded hungrily to his. His burning caress left no doubt of his intentions. You trembled, but didn’t refuse him.

Here in this beautiful prison, you were his to do with as he pleased. And some traitorous part of you craved to experience the passions he promised.

As Sukuna’s body covered yours, you surrendered completely to him. Within these walls, you now belonged utterly to him.

You had been living as Sukuna’s pampered pet in his lavish manor for several days now. He gifted you an ornate silk kimono, adorned your hair with jeweled combs, and ensured you lacked nothing. At night, he would lay you across silken futons and set your body aflame with new realms of pleasure.

But each morning after, as he caressed your skin and murmured endearments, doubts crept in. Were there others that he touched this way? The thought filled you with unease.

You wanted his passion reserved only for you.

When Sukuna appeared in your room this evening, he found you quiet and distant, your smile restrained. Brow furrowing, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“What troubles you, little one? Have I not provided for you well?”

You gathered your courage. “I… I have a request, My Lord…”

He raised one brow, “Oh? Speak.”

“If we are to share such intimacy, I wish it to be only between us. No other lover, in any way.” You held his gaze evenly. “Will you vow this, please?”

For a moment Sukuna only stared, stunned by your bold demand. Then a sly smile curved his lips.

“My little one wishes to tame me, is that it?” He trailed a finger lightly down your cheek. “You seek to bind me to yourself alone?”

Heart pounding, you gave one short nod.

Sukuna threw back his head with a delighted laugh. “You fascinate me endlessly. No mortal has ever dared make demands of me.” His expression softened by looking at your innocent face. “But for you, I will agree.”

He leans down, face to face with you, “From now on, I am yours alone.”

Relief washed through you at his oath. As Sukuna drew you into a passionate kiss, you yielded completely for the first time, holding nothing back.

“My sweet, little love…” He lifted you in his arms. “I will make you forget any existed before this night.”

And he did. Laying you down, hands and lips he worshiped you, wringing gasps and cries from your lips as you arched desperately, mindless and pleading beneath him.

At the height of ecstasy, his burning gaze held yours. His heated gaze seared into yours at the pinnacle, fierce and possessive. “No other shall ever know you as I do.”

The feeling when your body joined, the sensation was beyond words, it felt like coming home. Like a missing piece of your soul had been restored. Wave after wave of bliss crested over you both, leaving you entwined in breathless ecstasy.

As lantern light faded to silvery moonbeams, Sukuna held you close, your heartbeats synchronizing. You now belonged only to each other in body, heart, and soul.

“Mine,” Sukuna rasped against your skin, his canine digging into your neck, marking you as his. “Just as I am yours. This, I vow to you, little one, from now until the end of days.”

His words echoed long in your mind, even as spent passion gave way to sleep in his enveloping embrace. The King of Curses himself was now bound to you irrevocably. And you to him.

The vow had been spoken, the ritual complete.

The days had settled into a predictable routine in Sukuna’s residence. He would vanish for hours or even full days to attend to mysterious “business”, leaving you to wander the chambers and gardens alone. You never ask where he went or what occupied him. Some fears were best left unspoken.

But your heart would lift eagerly whenever Sukuna returned, no matter how late the hour. Just knowing he had come back to you was enough. You took to waiting anxiously by the engawa, ready to greet him.

At first, he returned spotless and composed. But soon the blood became noticeable.

It would decorate his arms, spatter his chest and face in drying rust-colored patterns. The life essence of whatever poor souls had crossed him in the nearby villages. You didn’t need to ask how it got there.

The first time, you gasped and shrank back in horror. But Sukuna just smiled and opened his arms to you. “Come, let us get cleansed of the day’s exertions.”

You forced yourself to look past the gore, seeing only your demonic lord who needed tending. Taking his hand, you led him to the bath chamber.

There you gently sponged away the carnage, breathing relief when his skin emerged clean again. Sukuna watched you intently, eyes glowing with unspoken emotions. You didn’t dare examine it too closely.

When you were done, he would pull you into his lap, nuzzling against your throat almost tenderly. As if your ministries had tamed the beast lurking within.

“My little one,” he would rumble. And your heart would swell under his praises.

Before long, you began living for his returns. The hours apart stretched endlessly, your thoughts consumed with concern for his well-being. Your chest would tighten with loneliness in his absence. Maybe you craved him because you have no one to come home to, that’s why you are willing to be with him.

Surely he must share your needs, right?

The moment his shadow appeared down the corridor, you flew to him, embracing him heedless of any lingering blood. Sukuna laughed indulgently, hands gentling your desperation.

“Such passion, little one. Did you miss me so terribly?”

You nodded, not caring how you exposed your dependence on him. He tipped your chin up, his sharp eyes looking at you softly. “As I missed you. The time apart is agony.”

His admission made you smile in relief. After bathing him, you would prepare tea and draw him into quiet conversation, savoring this domestic intimacy. Here with you, he almost seemed content.

At late night, his lovemaking took on new urgency, as if reaffirming your bond. You matched his intensity, wanting to erase any distance the day had built between you.

“You are all I need,” he whispered afterward, cradling you close. And you knew then you were hopelessly lost to this dangerous creature. He had become your entire world.

When Sukuna departed each morning, part of you went with him. Until he returned to make you whole once more. There was no denying the truth—you were his, mind, body, and soul.

You see, life with Sukuna provided came at a terrible price—the waiting.

And so you hatched a plan.

You requested the finest silks from the seamstress and described the revealing garment you wished to craft. An elegant yet alluring yukata, hinting at the beauty beneath.

On the night of his homecoming, you adorned yourself carefully, arranging your hair over your bare shoulders, sketching your lips crimson. The ensemble left you feeling exposed, but also powerful.

When Sukuna entered the bed chamber, the sight of you made him halt in his tracks. Eyes widened as they traced over you hungrily, taking in every contour the diaphanous fabric outlined.

“Little one,” he rasped. “You look like divinity itself. What is all this for?”

You steeled your nerves and went to him, guiding his fingers to untie your sash with hands that trembled.

“I wish to ease your burdens tonight, My Lord. Will you permit me?”

A growl escapes his throat as your robes slip to the floor. The intensity of his gaze seared into your skin everywhere it touched. Strong arms pulled you fiercely against him.

“You test my restraint, beloved. Are you certain?”

At your whispered yes, his control shattered. With infinite care he bore you down onto silken sheets, praising every inch of newly bared flesh until you were dizzy and pleading.

Even at its peak, he kept the pace languid—long, delirious strokes of passion. The pleasure was sweet agony. You arched and moved as one, minds entwining as deeply as your bodies.

When it ended, you were changed. Sukuna held you tenderly as languor claimed you both, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world.

Perhaps you should have been afraid of this obsessive devotion. But you could not imagine life without him now.

As nice as it is living comfortably with everything provided for you, sometimes his residence becomes a gilded cage. You yearned to walk beyond the gardens, to visit the nearby villages you glimpsed from afar.

After much pleading, Sukuna finally relented. “If it will make you happy, we shall go. But you must stay close to me.” His eyes held an unspoken warning.

The day came at last. Taking his arm, you ventured out onto the winding forest paths, buzzing with excitement. Sukuna watched you closely, as if to imprint each delighted reaction.

When the first simple thatched dwellings came into view, you gasped. “Oh, look! Real village life, just as I remembered.”

“Then let us explore it,” he said indulgently, strolling by your side.

You moved through stalls selling woven reed baskets, hand-dyed yukata, and carved jade amulets. The smells of grilling fish and blossom-scented steam from tea houses mingled in the air. Your smile was radiant.

Most villagers averted their eyes and scrambled away at the sight of his presence. But their fearful deference only seemed to amuse Sukuna as he guided you along.

Pausing by a fountain, you turned joyfully to him. “Thank you for this, My Lord. I haven’t felt this happy in…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed a young man staring from across the village square. His gaze was fixed on you, his handsome face breaking into a flirtatious grin, looking at you with his eyes signaling interest.

Before you could react, Sukuna had crossed the distance between them in two swift strides. You watched in horror as he seized the insolent youth by the throat and slammed him against a wall, baring razor fangs.

“You dare look at her that way?” he thundered. The young man choked out pleas for mercy as Sukuna’s grip tightened relentlessly.

“My Lord! Stop!” You rushed over, clutching his arm. “I beg you, let him go!”

With obvious reluctance, Sukuna released his hold and stepped back. The terrified man crumpled to the ground, wheezing with his face pale. You tugged Sukuna (he didn’t resist) away quickly as onlookers gaped.

Once you were back within the secluded forest path, he rounded on you. “Why did you stop me?” he demanded, eyes still burning with fury. “That whelp was openly desiring what is mine.”

You trembled. “He meant no true offense, My Lord.”

Sukuna exhaled harshly, drawing you against him. “You are too forgiving, little one. Next time I may not be so lenient.” The promise in his voice chilled you.

Nonetheless, in the days that followed, you persuaded him to let you visit the village markets again. Sukuna acquiesced, but his mood turned brooding whenever you went out together.

It was not long before a repeat incident occurred. A passing noble’s gaze lingered on you a moment too long. Sukuna's reaction was swift and merciless. Before you could intervene, the shrieking lord was engulfed in infernal flames, his ashes scattering to the wind.

This time, Sukuna was deaf to your pleas for restraint. “They continue testing me, presuming they can admire my possession with impunity,” he snarled. “I will suffer this insult no more.”

Numb with horror, you could say nothing as he took your arm and led you from that place of death.

Sukuna would never change his nature. His jealousy and possessiveness were as innate as the demonic power coursing through his veins. And you were helpless to curb them.

Trying to tame such a savage spirit had been foolish. Where his claim over you was concerned, no mercy would ever sway him.

The journey back to the estate was made in tense silence. You could feel the rage rolling off Sukuna in scorching waves as he strode ahead. His jaw was granite, fists clenched and shaking.

Only once you were behind the privacy of the chamber walls did he finally unleash it.

“How can you defend him?” he roared, making you flinch. “Those pathetic mortals who dared to covet what is not theirs. It is unacceptable!”

You stood your ground. “I make no defense, only ask that you temper reactions. This endless jealousy causes nothing but suffering.”

Sukuna’s eyes blazed, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “You ask me to watch passively as they dishonor my claim on you? To permit their vulgar ogling?” He swept a hand savagely across a lacquered table, sending the vase crashing.

You jumped at the destruction but forced yourself to meet his volcanic glare. “I am not possession or prize to be claimed, My Lord. You cannot punish all for one foolish man’s gaze. I have told you this before, but I am not harmed.”

“Not harmed?” Sukuna bellowed, slamming his fists into the bloodwood pillar with a crack. “Not yet! But their desire will grow brazen if I do not act decisively now.”

He stormed toward you, making you back away instinctively. “You are mine. No other shall covet or touch what belongs to me. I would see this whole wretched village burn first.”

As his tirade raged on, you felt tears rising, spilling silently down your cheeks. The possessive diatribes, the limitless fury—you were exposing the folly of trying to gentle the devil’s heart.

Sukuna abruptly halted his pacing at the sight, chest heaving. His blazing eyes took in your hunched, trembling form. For an instant, something like shock flickered across his face. He blinked rapidly, swaying slightly.

“No… My little love…” All at once, the frenzied anger seemed to drain from him. He reached for you hesitantly, as if expecting you to recoil. When you stayed rooted, he enfolded you in his shaking arms.

“Forgive me,” Sukuna whispered. “I should not have raised my voice. But the thought of losing you…” One hand stroked your hair, then gently tipped your chin up. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your skin.

“You are everything to me in this wretched world,” he murmured. “I could not bear it if harm befell you.” His eyes were molten and his voice raw. “Tell me you know I would never let anything hurt you, not even myself in the madness of my rage.”

You searched his face and saw the sincerity burning there. With a fragile nod, you laid your head against his chest. His exhale was ragged with relief.

“I will try to be more merciful. For you, at least,” he sighs. “But you must understand it rages in my blood when I see them desire my most precious treasure.”

You stayed silent in his embrace. Perhaps this was the most he could concede—ferocity tempered with remorse. You could not change his possessive heart, only help him master what flowed within it.

And for now, it would have to be enough. His jealousy was a storm that would never fully be calmed. But like the storm’s eye, at the center there was still tenderness he reserved only for you.

Once more, the days dragged endlessly when Sukuna was away. You had explored every corner of the estate a dozen times over. The loneliness gnawed at you.

So when he left at dawn one morning, you made an impulsive decision. Donning a cloak, you slipped outside the manor walls while the servants slept. Your steps quickened as you neared the hill path leading down to the village.

You had only meant to take a brief, harmless walk to lift your spirits. But the smells of grilled squid and sweet adzuki buns drew you like a magnet. Your stomach rumbled, reminding you it had been ages since you tasted simple street food.

Checking over your shoulder, you darted to the nearest food stall when no one was looking. The elderly vendor smiled in delight as you pointed to the snacks that tempted you most. It felt deliciously naughty, this minor rebellion.

You were waiting for the bamboo skewer of piping hot squid when someone jostled you from behind. Whirling around angrily, you found yourself staring up at a rugged, unkempt man looming over you. His bloodshot eyes raked down your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Well now, what do we have here?” His words slurred drunkenly. “You’re that demon’s little toy, ain’t ya? His pretty pet.”

When you shrank away, the brute caught your wrist in a painful grip. Revulsion rose in you. “Let go of me!”

The man just sneered. “Where is your master now, hmm? Bet he doesn’t like you sneakin’ off alone.” He swayed closer, sour breath hot on your face. “Maybe I oughta teach you some manners, whore.”

Outraged tears stung your eyes. You opened your mouth to scream for help when suddenly the man’s hand was wrenched away from you with a sickening crack. His shriek split the air.

Whirling around, you saw Sukuna standing there, eyes blazing infernos. The man who had seized you was now suspended off the ground, clutching his mangled, dangling arm.

“Please, mercy!” he whimpered piteously. But Sukuna’s face was a merciless stone.

With a snarl, he slammed the offender down, pinning him by the throat. “You dare speak to her that way?” His voice was deathly quiet. “Dare lay your filthy hands upon her?”

The man gurgled pleas, legs kicking uselessly. Sukuna tightened his grip. “No. There will be no mercy for you.”

And before your eyes, he ripped the man’s head from his body in one savage motion. Blood sprayed hot across your face and cloak. The headless corpse slumped with a wet thud that echoed horribly in your ears.

You stood there, frozen. You’re sick to the stomach—it’s nauseating—looking at the brutal sight that your lover could do.

Rooted in shock, you barely registered Sukuna turning to you. He grasped your shoulders firmly. “Did he hurt you?” At your numb shake of the head, fiery rage flooded back into his eyes.

“Good. Because I would have drawn out his torment for years if he had.” With that, Sukuna flung the lifeless body contemptuously through the door of a nearby hut.

Screams arose from within as you stared at the gore coating Sukuna’s hands. The brutality finally jolted you from horrified paralysis. Voice trembling, you begged him to take you home.

The journey back was made in silence. Once behind the walls, Sukuna rounded on you like the last time.

“How could you go without my permission?” He paced like a caged beast. “See what nearly befell you? The filth who could do anything to you?”

You flinched beneath the verbal onslaught, too numb to defend yourself as he kept raging.

“You are forbidden from leaving again! Do you understand?” He seized your shoulders roughly. “It is too dangerous for you.”

You nodded, mute and hollow. With a harsh exhale, Sukuna pulls you against him as four of his arms envelop you in a warm embrace, some of the frantic anger leaving him.

“Forgive my harsh words, my little love. But I do not like you being treated like that.” His voice broke on the last word. He clutched you tighter, as if to reassure himself you were real.

After that day, whispers followed you through the residence like ghosts, for no clear reason. Servants offering polite smiles that never reached their eyes, only to resume their hushed gossip once you’d passed.

At first, you tried ignoring the sidelong glances and murmurs. But still, the cruel words leaked through.

“She is just a plaything to him.”

“Once the master is bored, she will be discarded.”

“He is only using her on the bed.”

“Once he tires of those pleasures, her time here will end.”

Their cruel words haunted you, sinking claws into vulnerabilities you’d buried deep. Did they speak the truth? Was your whole purpose here just to entertain Sukuna’s baser appetites? The thought you might be expendable shook you to your core.

You managed to conceal your anguish and distress at first. But the doubts festered, stealing your appetite and sleep. When Sukuna finally noticed the toll on your health, alarm flared in his eyes.

Gently taking your hands, he scoops you onto his lap, facing him. “What is bothering your pretty little head, hm? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head, “It is nothing, My Lord. Not a big problem.”

“I do not like you lying to me, little one,” he shakes his head, not buying your secrecy.

“I am okay. Please, no need to be concerned about me.”

“How can I not? What is it? Tell me,” he holds your chin still to make you look at him.

Both of your stubborn banter goes back and forth until you’re both getting impatient.

You wavered, then spilled out the vile gossip you’d endured in silence. Sukuna listened gravely, thumb idly stroking your wrist. When you finished, he let out a long breath, gazing at you earnestly

“You believe their hateful lies? That you are some plaything to me? You know in your heart these claims are untrue.” He grasped your shoulders, staring intently into your eyes. “You are everything. Your faith in me is worth more than a million mortal lifetimes.”

He brought your hand to his chest, holding it over his steadily beating heart. “Do not let petty jealousies make you doubt what we share.”

Overwhelmed, you buried your face against him. “Forgive my doubts, My Lord,” you whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive. The fault is theirs, not yours.” Stroking your hair, he pressed a fierce kiss to your head. Then his tone turned cold. “As for these spiteful women, I will make them regret ever speaking such lies.”

You quickly squeezed his hands. “Please, do not harm them. I only wished to explain my melancholy, not see others punished.”

Sukuna frowned. “You ask me to ignore those who hurt you so? Who makes you doubt my devotion?” His grip on you tightened. “I cannot be so forgiving.”

“I know it comes from care,” you soothed. “But replying to anger with more anger will only breed misery.”

He paused, then exhaled harshly, pulling you close. Resting his forehead to yours, he went on. “I swear to you, my feelings run deeper than they comprehend.”

“Leave this to me now, little one. Just rest easy.”

True to his word, the gossip ceased quickly. You didn’t ask what Sukuna said or did to silence loose tongues. But the servants now bent over backward to please you, their once spiteful eyes now carefully respectful.

Their newfound reverence somehow bothered you more. But Sukuna seemed satisfied. “Let the wretches make amends for causing you pain,” he said nonchalantly.

Some part of you recoiled at his methods. Yet it warmed your heart to know he would avenge any slight against you without hesitation. Perhaps it was wrong to take comfort from his possessiveness.

But you needed to feel cherished after so much doubt. And Sukuna left no room for uncertainty in how deeply he treasured you. Each tender glance and touch slowly healed the wounds until you were whole again.

When he came to you beneath the silken sheets now, the passion held new meaning. A reaffirming of what you were to each other.

You were his sanctuary. Just as he was yours.

The gossip no longer stung when you knew his heart with such certainty.

Sukuna had told you he was taking a few days off to spend with you. With him home beside you for a blessed few days, the gloom cast over the estate seemed to lift. His four muscular arms caged you securely against his broad chest as you sank comfortably into his embrace.

He was attentive in ways you’d never seen before, constantly drawing you into his arms, asking questions about your childhood, your dreams, anything to get to know you better.

At first, you were shy, unused to being the object of such focused interest. But Sukuna’s patient gentleness soon had the words spilling freely from your lips.

You happily opened up to him in turn, chatting lightly about your days spent tending the garden, studying scripture with the monks, or watching the koi fish circle lazily in their pond. No detail was too small or mundane—he drank in every insight into your character with eyes that never once glazed in boredom.

He listened intently, his crimson eyes focused solely on you. As frightening as he could be, you knew this powerful being cherished you in his own way. You were likely the only person in the world he cared for.

When you finally worked up the courage to ask about his early life in turn, his gaze darkened briefly. “There is little of worth to tell,” he muttered.

He went on tonelessly to describe his parents casting him out as an infant, cursing his existence. Forced to eke out a living on the streets, he learned quickly that mercy was for the weak.

“I was not always like this,” he rumbled. “Once I was a human, born to parents who did not want me.” His fingers tensed where they rested on your back. “As an infant, they discarded me on the streets to die. But I survived, growing up feral and alone.”

You looked up at him sadly, heart aching at the thought of him helpless and abandoned with no one to care for him. You raised a hand to gently stroke his cheek.

Sukuna closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “I do not tell you this for pity,” he said firmly. “My past made me strong.”

His eyes opened again. “When my cursed technique manifested, I used them without mercy, cutting down any who dared stand in my way. I reveled in my growing strength, the thrill of battle and blood... they satisfied me. I honed my skills until I became unmatched.”

You nodded solemnly. His description matched the legends told of the terrifying Ryomen Sukuna.

Now you know why he lacked mercy.

You take his hands in yours, kissing his palms. “The past is behind you now,” you told him. “What matters is who you choose to be from this day forth. My love for you is unconditional.” You smiled up at him warmly. “But I promise to teach you the ways of empathy and love, even if you protest.”

Sukuna huffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Little one, you may try, but do not expect miracles. I am what I am.” But his embrace around you was gentle, belying his words.

You poked his chest teasingly. “I will make it my mission to show you how wonderful love can be, the joys it brings to our lives.” Laughing, you added, “Just you wait, I will have you reciting poetry and picking wildflowers before long!”

“Hmph, do not get carried away,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was secretly pleased by your playful vow.

You cuddled against his chest, determined to shower this damaged soul with all the love and tenderness he had missed in his tragic early years.

The next morning, as soft sunlight filtered into the bedroom, you lay wrapped in Sukuna’s strong embrace. Your head rested on his muscular chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His breathing was slow and even, still asleep.

You traced idle patterns on his bare skin, your fingertips grazing over the tattoos adorning his body. Your mind drifted back to the conversation from the night before when Sukuna had told you a bit of his past.

Abandoned and unloved, forced to survive on his own from infancy. Your heart ached for the small, helpless babe he had been. The thought of him growing up without affection or care weighed heavily on you.

You understood now why love and empathy were so foreign to him. But you were determined to show Sukuna what he had missed, to fill his long existence with the warmth and joy he deserved.

Your short mortal life worried you, however. Sukuna had lived for centuries, he would go on existing long after you passed on. Would he find someone new to love? How would losing you affect him? Immortal beings were not meant to give their hearts to fleeting humans.

You must have tensed in concern, because Sukuna began stirring, his four arms instinctively tightening around you. “What troubles you so early, little one?” his deep voice rasped, still groggy with sleep.

You tilted your head up to peer at him. “I was thinking about what you told me last night, about your past. My heart breaks imagining you alone as a child.”

He regarded you seriously. “It was long ago. Dwelling on what cannot be changed is pointless.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I only wish I could have cared for you then. But now I worry… what will happen when I am gone? My life is so short compared to yours. Will you find someone new to love?” Your voice caught on the last word as you averted your gaze. You weren’t sure you even wanted to hear the answer.

He was silent. When you worked up the courage to look at him again, his crimson eyes were looking at you intensely. With a swift, motion he flipped you beneath him, bracing his weight above you and capturing your face between his big hands.

“You think I could simply replace you when death takes you from me?” His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly. “No other has touched my soul as you have. Long was my existence before you, yet I was empty.” Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours.

“Your fragile mortality may one day steal you from my side, but what we have cannot be replicated or replaced.” He lifted his head to gaze deeply into your eyes.

“When you are gone, I will be lost again. I accept that your life must end as mine continues.” His jaw clenched. “But I will find no peace with another. What we have is beyond replacement.”

Tears blurred your vision at his heartfelt words. You had not realized the depth of his attachment, that the absence of your love would leave him emotionally desolate.

You threw your arms around his broad shoulders. “Then we must make the most of the time we have,” you declared. “Fill our days with so much joy that you will carry the warmth of our love for eternity.”

Sukuna wrapped you tightly in his embrace. “Yes,” he agreed, nuzzling your neck. “I will cherish every precious moment with you, little one.”

His words made your heart clench, but you understood, he would never love another as he had you. Your lives were tragically misaligned, yet the love you shared transcended such limits.

You spent the day wrapped up in Sukuna, exchanging tender caresses, murmuring sweet nothings, strolling the grounds hand-in-hand. Every shared laugh, every affectionate glance was savored, imprinting your bond ever deeper.

As the sun sets in glorious color, you lay entwined together beneath the cover of a wisteria tree. Your head rested over Sukuna’s heart as he gently stroked your hair. His steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise of his chest were deeply comforting.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered.

“As do I, little one,” he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy. “But we cannot halt the merciless passage of time.”

You leaned up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No matter how short my life, I am grateful every moment of it is spent with you.”

Sukuna cradled you close, distress evident in his eyes. “When I am alone again, I will find comfort in the memories we have.”

His grip on you tightened, as if he could hold you to this world through will alone. You tilted your head back to peer up at him. “And when I am gone, will you be okay?”

“I will endure it. As I have endured all hardship in my long life.” He traced his thumb lightly down your cheek. “It will not feel the same, my little love. But do not worry about me, I will be fine.”

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in his normally stoic demeanor. On impulse, you stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sukuna went still for a heartbeat before responding in kind, lips moving gently against yours.

“Then do not dwell on the inevitable end,” you cup his face in your hands. “Think only of how much we mean to each other now. If my love can sustain you even a little while after I am gone, that will be enough.”

Sukuna pressed his forehead to yours. “I will brace it when the time comes. But for now, my world is only you.”

You kissed him tenderly, then settled against his chest once more. Bittersweet joy swelled your heart, knowing you had brought some warmth into Sukuna’s grim existence. Though fleeting and painfully finite, your mortal love was a balm to his ancient, scarred soul.

The years passed swiftly. Sukuna remained your steadfast companion as you grew from a young woman into old age. He was always there to hold you close, whisper endearments, make you laugh with his wit.

In the blink of an eye, your hair became streaked with silver. Your smooth skin wrinkled and your energy waned. But your love never faded.

Sukuna stayed by your side as you grew frail, cradling you tenderly through restless nights, patiently spoon-feeding you broth when eating became difficult. His eyes reflected centuries of sadness knowing your time grew short.

Finally, you lay weakly upon your futon as he stayed close by your side. Your breathing turned ragged and a violent cough wracked your body. He gathered you gently into his arms.

“The end is near, my little one,” he murmured, smoothing back your thin hair.

You gave him a quivering smile. “I am ready. Just stay with me, please.”

He pressed his lips to your wrinkled forehead. “Always.”

You spent your final moments gazing up at his face, etched into your mind after so many years together. His image would be the last you saw in this life. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes for the final time.

Sukuna let out a broken noise, pulling you tightly to his chest as your body went limp. Rocking your still form, he wept for the first time in his long existence. Anguished sobs wracked his powerful frame.

He had known this moment would come, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer devastation of losing you. It felt as though part of his soul had been ripped away.

Sukuna had guarded your mortal form night and day in those final years. Now you slipped away before his eyes, leaving him utterly alone. The crushing pain made him understand the human concept of a “broken heart”.

But he took comfort knowing you had passed peacefully in his embrace. The only mercy was that you were spared a drawn-out decline. He had filled your short life with as much love as one man could give. He has known you for a short time compared to how you’ve known him for most of your life.

Wiping his eyes, Sukuna pressed final kisses to your cooled skin. He would honor you with a funeral befitting royalty. Then he must decide where to wander next. This place held too many haunting memories now.

Sukuna laid you gently on the futon and stood. He cast one last anguished look at your still face.

“My beloved…” he whispered. “No other shall ever take your place.”

Then he turned and strode from the room, jaw clenched against a fresh onslaught of grief. His steps were heavy with the unbearable burden of immortality and loss.

No, he doesn’t cremate you despite having the ability to do so. He doesn’t even want to think of burning you to ashes, or he might as well lose it and burn the world with it for taking you away too soon.

He buried you beneath the cherry tree where you’d spent so many blissful hours in his arms. He marked the site with a stone monument etched with his promise:

“In this life or the next, you are mine. None will ever love you as I have, little one.”

His task complete, Sukuna wandered for many years after. Though the sharp pain dulled to a persistent ache, the emptiness inside him never abated. He fulfilled his promise and took no other lovers, knowing they could only ever be hollow substitutes.

He will wait until his time comes no matter how long it takes to see you again in the afterlife.

He will wait long enough to see you reborn and claim you one more as his.

But the thing he knows for sure, you will always belong to no one but him.

I got emotional and carried away, I’m sorry 😭😭

[harmonysanreads]

just a thought but smth LAUGHABLY funny is a very bitter neuvillette. since he’s in a very high position of power, his words might even be law itself atp, so imagine him as your loser bitter ex.

trying to execute this can be silly—bc who’s willing to go that far to spite someone’s ex? neuvillette probably would. bc you see: he cherished you so much. he was willing to grovel for you, disregarding his status and his character. you’ve seen it all, him breaking his cold mask. beneath it all, is just a very clingy and obsessive man. so once you left under the pretences of him being “too overbearing, it was suffocating you,” he let it go quite well. you thought he’d argue with you on it (as he would usually do) and even forbid you from leaving. but nay, you left him the next day with his head hung low and a look of defeat shadowing his face. it felt like mutual acceptance for both parts, it was hard of course, but at least you were glad neuvillette didn’t react harshly against you.

give it a month, not too long, until you realise that you’ve been laid off. quite harshly. you had a pretty stable job with good income. suddenly your boss sends you a letter one day out of the blue. your boss says you’ve been fired. why? you asked. didn’t say much. ok, maybe it’s time to go find another job. you do, only to end up being turned away from every single one you’ve applied to. have you been blacklisted? what did you do exactly for the entirety of fontaine to completely shun you away?

you’re low-key struggling with your income. the place you were staying at, you’re on the verge of being kicked out because you’re behind payments. you might as well flee this city altogether, but you really don’t want to give up since you’ve lived your whole life here. you keep on pursuing, finding any place willing to take you in. unsurprisingly, you’ve met a dead end. you’re teetering the edge of snapping so you wonder, has it something to do with your records? because as far as you know, you once had a good job that you got all by yourself due to you track record and lists of achievements. not a single blemish, you think, is on your track record. you were once well respected and regarded by peers and acquaintances alike, but now? you are nothing but a mere ghost to them, completely forgotten. so after much contemplation, you’re seizing to get your hands on your papers and records. were you that unqualified?

until one day, your questions were answered. there was a loud knock coming from your door. it was your last week living at your house, so when you opened the door to welcome the government officials at your doorsteps, they eyed boxes behind you. the space behind you was barren and it did not feel like a home anymore. there’s a sullen look on your face, so with a sympathetic sigh the man in front of you stated his reason for coming here. “we have a warrant out for your arrest.”

it rushes out like a wave that smothers you. a warrant? you haven’t done anything unlawful, you’re sure of it. but now as you bask in this dreadful situation, is that why your life has slowly fallen apart? there’s no way, no way that’s true. what crime did you commit? did you do something awfully criminal or something completely small that the laws of fontaine has harshly persecuted you for? fontaine has always been strict in that regard. “what for?” you ask, it sounded like you had an entire list of crimes you were hiding, yet you had a look of genuine surprise and confusion. “multiple, actually.” the man responds. ok, now this is getting really weird. he asks if you’re willing to come with them for questioning, maybe discuss about it more thoroughly, perhaps it can answer some of the questions frantically falling out of your mouth.

you come with them, under arrest currently, as they have you transported to some kind of holding room. you’re now scared shitless, wondering what possibly could you have done wrong. you’re praying to archons that this was all just a dream. you’re life was already going to shit, but now? you’ve completely reached your breaking point. all in a span of a few months where you were laid off without any explanation, blacklisted from every place apparently, and as of last week you were packing up your things to leave your home without even knowing where to go. now, you just found out you had not one, but MULTIPLE warrants. you started laughing, quite uncomfortably, at yourself the more you pondered. the echo of your lonely laughs laughed back at you as you stared across a wall as it all slowly melted into a choked sob. what were you going to do now?

before you could sit in silent reflection any longer, the door next to you creaked open. you turn to look at who it was, expecting to see an investigator or maybe even a lawyer, but your face fell the moment you saw who it was.

neuvillette. that bastard.

he enters and sits in front of you, with a proposition that makes your stomach twists and turn. he’s made your life a complete hell and now he saunters his power and hold against you, painting it as a guiding light. he said, he’d help you against your warrants. perhaps even help you reconvene your entire life that has been shattered. it sounds a little too good to be true and it was happening all to fast. your life fell apart the moment you left him. and now? you had a chance to pick it all back up. “so, what’s the catch?”

you really hated that look on his face when you asked. you only knew, you’d be trapped regardless of the choice you make wether to accept his offer or not.

(if i ever return in the future: can i be 🗽 anon?)

Just a thought???? 🗽anon THIS IS A FULL-COURSE MEAL, A BANQUET.

But what you despised more was how it made you feel, that curve of his lips was uncharacteristic— if you were being generous in your description— and malicious if you were not. It made you feel as though you were thrown into the ocean without any experience of swimming, it sent the twirling of your thoughts askew and the air stolen from your lungs.

“Why, you'll have to be mine again. No second chances, no excuses, no backing out.” Neuvillette shifts in his seat, inching just the right bit closer to your increasingly distressed form.

“...Of course, of course! Why didn't I think it sooner? This was all your doing, you were behind it all! You—” it took all your willpower to not take advantage of the distance and commit something that'd actually earn you a cell in Fontaine's jail, hand settling on jabbing a finger at the judge's chest to rid your rage even in the slight.

You're unsure of what your visage has contorted to, your restless eyes search his for a reflection, blurred emotions stare back at you. Your body trembles as the dots connect, a touch of silk transferred across your whole palm as it fists against his ribbon. For a moment, you vacillate between who to be angry at ; him, the corrupt world or you. If the universe had at least sent a sign a month prior, your litany of curses could've been directed at the culprit instead of your fate.

“I should've known you were up to something when you didn't retaliate, when you just let me go like that, I should've...I..”

At this instance, vehement words threaten to spill from your lips as well but a fraction of what remains of your sanity makes you hold your tongue as the gravity of your situation settles in, only a croaked why escaping past your throat. It must've been pitiful, because Neuvillette's smirk falters and straightens into a thin line. One gloved hand takes a tentative hold of your wrist still clinging to his clothes and you hate how familiar his touch feels.

“Do you wish to know why?”

The offer entices your head to rise again, you take a shaky inhale and the Chief Justice proceeds according to the cue.

“Because I love you.”

One of the lamps illuminating the room flickers off, that little sound bounces off of the walls and fills the deathly quiet momentarily. Fury turns to confusion and then disbelief. Your fingers slacken and this time, his hand tightens around your wrist.

“You're insane.”

Neuvillette's head tilts in inquisition, a wordless encouragement for you to continue.

“You abused your power, had me fired and blacklisted from all the working environments of Fontaine, soiled my reputation and attached false crimes to my name.. because you love me?”

Your free arm reaches for the judge's collar and yanks him closer, a grunt escapes him but he makes no further move and it unsettles you. For such an offensive action, you'd expected a nasty glare at the very least ; while that would've been scary, it'd still make more sense than the neutral expression on his fair face.

“Yes, is this not what is common? You told me yourself that you do everything within your power to hold onto the person you love.” his nonchalant answer has you let go of the fabric hastily, backing away as though you were faced with an alien instead of a man. Neuvillette never relinquishes his hold but a sigh does escape him at your behavior, a somewhat normal reaction at last.

“I once praised your stubbornness as your biggest strength but do you not see that at this moment, it's your greatest weakness? It's holding you back from rewinding everything.” the judge leans in and you lean away til your back hits the seat, he pins you by your wrist.

“I promise all will be resolved, no one in the entirety of this nation will utter a word about this, everyone will behave as though nothing happened, that this was just a tiny lovers' quarrel. All you have to do is say yes.” Neuvillette's white locks tickle your skin, his voice turns hushed in utmost secrecy and his breath fans the heat blossoming across your neck.

You want to push him away, you want to recoil from his proximity and you want the earth to split open and swallow you whole. His free hand takes your chin and forces you to face the tempest brewing in his eyes, the intensity pushes you to break and to comply — you don't want to comply or to say yes. Because you know what happens if you do, it's the exact suggestion he'd whispered before your engagement but it was different then. Back then, you'd known you could back out and that's why you'd been worriless. You could deny him now as per your sheer pertinacity as well, but Neuvillette makes it clear that all that'd do is making the path to the inevitable more painful.

After all, the waves never offer consolation to the ruined sand-castle, they only wait until they can destroy it again.

[murdrdocs]

every passing moment

description. sitting in the front seat of patrick zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. it's impossible to pretend you didn't come for this.

includes. SMUT 18+, car sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p n v, lots of denial from reader, some manhandling, sort of mean patrick, also mean reader, hooking up w a friends ex (but consensually!), takes place in the 2000s

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: cannot be bothered to edit sawrryy. based on a req i got forever ago. art creds unknown. title from so into you by tamia

“You can stop pretending.” 

You pause your insistent flipping through radio stations to glare in Patrick’s direction. His eyes are straight ahead, staring at the red streetlight through the rain still pattering down onto the windshield. You narrow your eyes in distaste, trying not to notice the way the light illuminates the shape of his face. 

“Pretending?” 

Patrick shrugs, glancing at you for a moment before the light is green and he’s facing the road again. 

“Yeah. Pretending that you’re not into me.” He says it with such assurance as if his statement is a fact of matter and not just an arrogant assumption. 

You scoff and decide on a station playing the final bits of a Katy Perry song. Maybe you would have been able to distinguish the song if it weren’t for the volume of the blood pumping through your body. You’ve been attempting to ignore it the entire time, ever since you and Patrick dropped Art off at a friend's place.

But there was something about being alone with Patrick and sitting in the front of his car. It affects you. When you were sitting in the back of the car and looking out of the window, you weren’t focused on anything other than how long it would take to get back to your dorm. Patrick and Art were as they usually were—Patrick and Art, extensions of the other. They joked, laughed, and included you for a bit before Patrick wrongfully proclaimed that you were asleep. You were in your world and they were in theirs. But now you’re part of Patrick’s world, forced to listen to him scoff at the song playing and click to another station. Forced to kick away an empty Monster can that rolls back and hits the toe of your sneakers. Forced to smell his cologne, previously too strong but now worn off to a more pleasant intensity, carry towards your nose with the cold AC. 

Before, you were able to pretend that you didn’t want Patrick. Now, you’re right next to him, bumping your elbow with his as they both rest on the center console. Mumbling the same lyrics—although Patrick gets the words slightly wrong—to the same song. There is a certain harmony that exists in this space, shining a light on your true desires, the ones you pushed down with eye rolls and groans whenever Art insinuated that you had feelings for his best friend. The desires you pushed away even whenever Tashi exclaimed that what she and Patrick had was nothing but a thing that they had, and you were free to swoop in if you pleased. 

Now, sitting in the front seat of Patrick Zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. It’s impossible to pretend like you didn’t come dressed for this. 

Your meticulously crafted outfit screams in your face. Your best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged your ass just right and had gotten you laid twice this semester already. A tiny enough top to warrant attention without being obvious that that’s what you wanted—it ended right above your navel and was thin enough for your tits, unrestrained by a bra, to press against the fabric. In certain lighting, like the lighting coming from the stoplight, for example, you could see your nipples poking through. 

When you glance over at Patrick again, you catch him glancing down at your tits. You scoff like it’s not what you wanted, but you cross your arms under your bust and enhance the pair anyway. 

The car ride is going fine. Patrick’s chosen station plays hit after hit to fill the silence as he steadily heads toward your dorm. You’re only a few minutes away, no more than 7 if the stoplights weren’t taking too long, and then Patrick pulls into a gas station. 

You look over at him, your eyes squinted and your eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He puts the car in park next to a pump. “Getting gas,” he tells you factually as if you’re the outrageous one. 

He closes the door before you can argue with him but you reach over and press the button to roll down the window before the battery completely turns off. 

“My dorm is literally right down the street. You couldn’t wait?” You hiss at him through the open window, watching him insert his card and put his PIN in. Unsurprisingly, his PIN is his birth year. 

“It’s easier this way,” he takes his card out of the reader and opens the tank. “Otherwise I would’ve had to double back. Too much work. Waste of gas.” 

You huff and fall back into your seat, just a tad bit upset that Patrick would’ve had the perfect view of your tits if he looked away from the dirtied gas pump for just a second. 

You sit for a moment, tapping your finger against the plastic door handle. You pull a stick of gum out of your purse. 

“Pass me one,” Patrick demands, doesn’t ask. 

You make a point of smacking on your piece as you tell him, “It’s the last one.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls the corner of his lips into his cheek and glances back at the screen steadily counting up. 

He looks back at you. His eyes scan your frame and you can’t help but feel a little satisfied. 

“You look really pretty right now.” He tells you. His compliment should flatter you, and it mostly does, but he gave you those eyes. The ones you’ve seen him throw at multiple women, hoping it would get him what he wants. 

You’re sure that you and him currently share the same wants, but you want him to be a little shameless about it. For the sake of your pride, you can’t give it away this easily. So you retort. 

“Oh my God, Patrick. Fuck off!” Petulantly, you cross your arms over your chest and focus your attention on the mostly empty building in front of you. 

“I’m serious.” And he sounds serious. He sounds earnest. It’s the softest you’ve ever heard Patrick speak and you don’t know if he’s doing it to get in your pants, or if he has no ulterior motives. 

You don’t know which one you prefer more. 

You don’t know how to respond. Silence seems to be the best answer for you. 

It’s not satisfactory for Patrick. “This is usually the part where you’ll accept my compliment. Maybe give one back.”

“That would be the part if I were another one of your conquests. Which I’m not.”

“You wouldn’t be another one of my conquests.”

“You tell everyone that? Or just girls that you think ‘look really pretty’.”

“Alright, whatever. Will thinking that you’re another one of my conquests help you? Would it take some pressure away from all of this?” He gestures wildly between the two of you. The tank reaches its limit behind him and he places the nozzle back in its home. 

He’s back in the car with the engine turned on and his seatbelt on when you respond. 

“It doesn’t matter, Patrick. Because I’m not sleeping with you.”

He laughs. The sound is irritating. It makes your nostrils flare and your skin burn. 

“What’s funny? I didn’t think someone finally not wanting you would be so entertaining.”

“Oh, people don’t want me all the time. You’re just not one of them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look,” he puts the car into drive and starts off towards your dorm. “I know you wanna sleep with me. It’s fine if you don’t admit it to me, maybe even yourself, but it’s obvious. You’re just too egotistical. You think you’re superior to me because—what? You chose a ‘real job’ over tennis? That doesn’t make you superior, it makes you scared. And that’s okay. You’re scared of your own potential and you’re scared of how bad you want me. That’s fine,” he spits your name out with a natural ease that used to flatter you. Now it pisses you off. “Just don’t walk around like that’s not the truth.” 

You have the urge to tell him to pull the car over. You have the urge to spew out every nasty insult you’ve ever thought about him, some of them even Tashi’s own t words that she’d shared with you after the breakup. But you’re only a block away from your dorm and you refuse to waste your energy on Patrick. That and you know if you try, your voice will crack and you’ll embarrass yourself. 

Instead, you turn the radio up and sit with your anger until Patrick pulls up to your dorm. 

Your seatbelt clicks to free you, the door is unlocked, opened, and closed, and you’re turned to face the entrance when the sound of the window unrolling stops you. 

“Call me when you’re done lying to yourself.”

He doesn’t leave until you’re inside the building. 

Even then, he isn’t gone for long. 

You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for the familiar ding! so you can crawl upstairs to your room, call Tashi, and tell her about this horrible night. 

But you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied. You knew the night couldn’t end like this. 

So just when the elevator reaches you and opens its doors, you have your phone pressed to your ear and Patrick’s number ringing. 

He picks up on the second ring and he just laughs. Big and boisterous like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. 

You huff, considering hanging up and going upstairs. But you shift your stance and the seam of your jeans presses right into the center of your cunt and you know you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Don’t be an ass. Just come back.” 

When you walk out the door, he’s back in the same spot. 

The car door is opened, the yellow light turning on and illuminating Patrick’s sick fucking smirk, and you don’t say anything as you sit in the passenger seat. You don’t bother clicking your seatbelt on. 

“Why don’t we just go upstairs?” he suggests. 

“I’m not checking you in.” I don’t want proof of this ever happening, is what you don’t say to him. Even without the fine print being verbalized, Patrick knows what you mean. 

He hums, a sound that infuriates you just as much as his laugh, but then he puts the car into gear and starts off towards wherever he’s taking you. 

You end up in the parking lot behind one of the science buildings. It’s empty, completely desolate besides a half-drunken bottle of blue Gatorade and a campus security pole that shines a deep blue. The light isn’t bright enough to penetrate the foggy windows of Patrick’s Honda, but the streetlights that keep the parking lot lit are. 

The white light sits along Patrick’s cheekbones. It’s flat against the straight line of his nose. It’s barely there, right along his prominent cupid bow. 

You can’t help but sit and admire his face. You can’t help but admire the way sweat has started to coat his hairline, threatening to drip down over his thick eyebrows and fall onto his cheek. You can feel your own sweat coming through your pores, but you can’t feel that more than you can feel Patrick’s fingers fucking up into you, two thick digits plunging into your walls over and over again. 

You can’t believe you’re actually doing it, following up on the encouragement from both Tashi and Art. You’re finally giving in to all of those dreams that you pushed out of your mind as soon as you could, or those brief pictures of Patrick’s face in your head whenever you were trying to picture your latest celebrity crush instead. 

Now, Patrick is all you see. 

When you’re verbally asking him to use his mouth on you, you only see Patrick’s smirk. It’s real and raw and right in front of you. And you can’t stop staring. 

Even when he contorts his large body to bring his face right between your legs, and you can only really see from the tip of his nose up, you don’t stop staring. When the pleasure mounts and climbs up your spine, you don’t stop staring, even when your eyes beg to flutter closed just to focus on the pleasure. 

You’re zoned out and you know it. You’re staring at Patrick’s eyes, even when he’s watching your cunt and you can only see his eyelids. Your own eyes have glazed over from refusing to blink, and when you do blink—an action that’s pulled from you when Patrick flicks his tongue over your clit just right—a twin set of tears glide down your cheeks. 

It’s then that Patrick decides to look at you again and you can feel his smile. 

Thinner than usual and more pursed as it’s the position of his lips, but the expression is pressed right up against you and you can feel it so intimately. It’s really a shame that the thing you hate most is the thing that gets you right to the edge. 

Patrick baring his teeth and gently nipping on your clit as he twists his fingers inside of you is the thing that makes you throw your hand out to grip the back of the passenger seat, your back arching as your mouth throws out moans that you don’t mean to be as loud as they are. 

And Patrick just helps you ride through it. Even when you hook your legs around his head and twist your fingers into his hair, keeping his face dangerously close to your cunt, he helps you out. He’s more generous than you would’ve thought, and you don’t want to think about how many orgasms Patrick Zweig would be willing to give you before asking for one of his own. So you don’t. 

Instead, you think about the way you’re grinding your cunt against Patrick’s face. As soon as you realize you’re doing it, you stop. You unhook your legs and let his hair go and when he comes up for air, you refuse to meet his eye. 

After all of that staring, you suddenly are completely uninterested in Patrick’s blue eyes, including the little speck of blood-orange he has in them. 

Patrick snickers and with him being this close to you, you can smell yourself on his breath. Why does that make you want to kiss him more?

“Come on. After I just made you cum you won’t even look at me?”

You reach above you to click the car light on and immediate regret finds you. Because now that there’s a substantial amount of light in the car, you can see the way Patrick’s clean-shaven chin, plump lips, and perky nose shine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where all of the shimmer has come from, especially not when the evidence is still smeared all over your pussy and inner thighs. 

You dart your eyes to the side, looking at Patrick’s floor in search of the firetruck red pair of panties you were wearing. You look, and look, pushing away bottles and plastic bags and a pair of sneakers, and when you don’t find them, you huff and try to reach around Patrick to grab your jeans that have landed on the center console. 

He bends out of the way, letting you grab the jeans, waiting for your next move. 

“You can take me back to my dorm now.”

He hesitates. He doesn’t say anything. And then, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asks it as if he knows the answer. 

You know the answer. Still, you look at him, feigning unimpressed with your jeans hanging limply in your hands. You should put them back on. You’ve got what you came here for, a really good orgasm, and now it’s time you start working on the paper you’ve been putting off. A paper you absolutely despised. A paper that you would do anything to escape, or at least put off a bit. 

Anything including letting Patrick Zweig fuck you. 

Yeah, that’s not the only reason why you let Patrick fuck you. You’ve wanted him for a while and you’ve been fairly obvious about it. The classic childhood approach to your attraction wasn’t fooling anyone. Masking your attraction with annoyance didn’t do anything but make you want him more. 

In the end, it wasn’t effective, as it still brought you here:

On your hands and knees in the back of Patrick’s car, letting him defile you from the back, remaining completely uncaring of the heat and the volume of your moans. 

You’ll admit, this isn’t how you imagined fucking Patrick. You imagined it being somewhere more appropriate, for starters. In a bed or on a couch perhaps. But everything else about it, you’ve imagined. 

The way he fucks you, rough and without abandon, is how you imagined it. The way he just takes and takes is how you imagined it. Late at night when you would slip your hands between your thighs, hoping to provide even a bit of reprieve, you imagined it like this. 

You imagined his grunts right in your ear. You imagined the feeling of his balls slapping against your cunt. You imagined the feeling of his hands on your hips. But now you don’t have to imagine, it’s all real. 

“Good?” Patrick asks from behind you. 

Your lips move on their own accord. “‘s so good. Just like I imagined.” 

You regret the admission as soon as it’s in the stiff air. You regret even thinking about it whenever Patrick snickers, curt and confident. 

“Just like you imagined, huh? Knew you—fuck, you feel good—I knew you wanted me.” 

His words are redundant at this point. It’s obvious that you’ve wanted Patrick the entire time. Now, he just wants to rub it in your face. He’s treating you like a pet, a big hand on the back of your head and rubbing your face in the mess you’ve made. Quite literally, as he palms the back of your head and pushes your face down into the seat at one point, smearing your nose in the sweat and arousal left over from your first orgasm. 

But he’s not reprimanding you. He’s encouraging you. 

He’s hooking a hand over your shoulder and pulling you back onto each of his thrusts. He’s hunching over your body as best as he can in the tight space and resting his head against your spine. 

When you feel a glob of drool meets the center of your back, it suddenly occurs to you that Patrick has wanted this as much as you have. He’s been chasing after you the entire time, apparently, if you could trust the words of Art and Tashi. 

You tune in, allowing yourself to hear him, to be with him in this brief moment. You’re made aware of his groans, how deep and throaty they are, how sincere they are. You notice how the drag of his cock out of you is slower than the push back in. It’s almost as if he’s savoring the time that he’s in you, prolonging it as long as possible. Yet, he slides out nearly all the way, only stopping when his mushroom tip is settled within you, your cunt clasped around it like a vice. And then he glides back in, swift and gentle. 

Over and over again. And no matter how much he’s trying to prolong it, no matter how much he’s trying to prevent the inevitable, it approaches steadily. You’re close before you notice it, hands gripping the door handle and the leather seats. 

You don’t warn him. If you feared he was going to stop or change something, maybe you would have told him that you were close. But Patrick isn’t one to change something that’s working well so you really had nothing to worry about. 

Soon enough, when your orgasm is at its peak and you’re letting noise after noise spill past your lips, Patrick joins you. His forehead resting against your shoulder, his hips sloppily knocking into yours. 

It’s harmonious. Possibly the most (willingly) in tune you and Patrick Zweig have ever been. Likely the most willingly in tune the two of you will ever be. 

When it’s over, it’s over. There’s no more harmony. You nudge yourself back, getting Patrick off of you. You abandon the search for your panties and just settle with slipping your jeans back on, doing the same for your bra and shirt. You climb into the front seat, leaving Patrick in the back to catch his breath and redress. 

He leaves the car to walk around to the driver's side and you use that one moment where he isn’t there to ask yourself what the fuck?

The drive back is silent. No music, no conversation, just the sound of rubber against asphalt. Patrick asks you one thing. 

“Do you wanna go anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.”

And then you’re back at your dorm. You take a moment, mulling over your possibilities. You could have Patrick park in a visitor's spot, come up to your dorm, and spend time with you. You could resort back to your usual banter, maybe throw in an insult that doesn’t have to do with the way he defiled you just a few minutes ago (because there really isn’t anything negative you could say about that). 

Instead, you open the door and step out. 

“Thanks,” is all you tell him. 

When you get upstairs, you consider the possibility of telling Tashi or Art. Instead, you take a shower and go to sleep. 

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[royalsunshinehotel]

talkin' rings and talkin' cradles ( The Kid x escort!reader, 18+)

Something was different, in all of the months he came to see you, he’d been a gentleman. He’d never pushed you, only kept his hands where you wanted them, and he never, ever hid from you. Now, after a month of no contact, and begging the Gods for his safety, he was right here, hiding. 

No, maybe that wasn’t true. He was just different. 

Over a month, you’d heard nothing. You thought, for a moment, that he’d gotten bored of you, most men who came to see you did eventually, but deciding that perhaps he’d died hurt your heart less. It was all men were good for, after all. 

But here he was, in the back room, eerily calm. Of course it was him, you’d know him anywhere. Tall, broad, a black suit, and a white ape mask covering his beautiful face. You knew it was him under there, but he held himself differently. His shoulders held back, like he wanted to be seen when he walked into a room. 

“What’s happened? Talk to me.” You almost beg him, there was a time you’d have worried you were asking for too much. But not here, not with him. You hear a small sigh under the mask, and it makes your hair stand on end. 

“Was it a fight?” You’d seen him at Tiger’s Temple, you knew how badly he needed to be hit, and hit hard. What if he’d quit pulling his punches. Maybe he’d knocked someone out he hadn’t meant to? What if - 

Your anxiety sits on your chest, digging in deeper, but is cut off by him, slowly, steady as ever, he took your shaky palm in his hand, bringing it up to the mask, as if to kiss it. Of course your hair stands on end, even the lightest touch from him left you shaking. For a moment, you think of other men, the ones who paid to fuck you, and how they’d die to see you like this - obedient, soft, trained.

They didn’t matter, and never would. 

He lets you fall to your knees. You look up at him like he was that western God he’d heard so much about. He knows he’s an absolute fool for coming to see you. It would be the last time, he just had to see you, he just had to tell you … 

And it’s gone. Any plan he’d made of what he’d say evaporated the moment you put your hands on him. 

You were quick with your hands, always, and it dazzled him, just like the rest of you does. 

He breathes heavily through the mask, trying not to crumble at your feet…again…He shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, completely unprotected, with these people. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. He shivers lightly, as you expose him to the cold air in the room, and slowly stroke him, firmly and evenly, as if that would hide your own hunger. 

With a short, rough lick to his tip, he’s in pieces. He could sit and ponder the hold you had on him, but he wouldn’t. He’d had enough time to think. 

You take his hands in your own, and put one large, warm palm in your hair. He doesn’t do it himself, so you’ll have to do it for him. You always felt he was far away whenever you had him like this, you wouldn’t allow that this time. 

He, on the other hand, was too busy gazing at you, cock in your hand, begging for attention, and your sweet face totally focused on him. What did he do to deserve this attention? What had he done that warranted such care? 

Your breath on his throbbing muscle feels like fire, it’s quite a contrast to the rest of you. He’d gotten used to your manner, but the way you completely softened to him felt like an honor. You lick lightly, and he grinds his teeth together. Teasing him brought you such joy. You couldn’t imagine a world where everything he passed didn’t fall at his feet and beg for attention, same as you. 

Enough now, you think, as you end it. 

A small puff of air through your nose, and he has to brace himself on the wall behind the two of you. 

You fuck him with your throat. It’s what he deserves. 

The ridges in your mouth drag mercilessly against his member. Your nails dig into his hips, your tears stream freely down your face, and you're determined to have your fill. He’d never spilled in your mouth before, and he wouldn’t today. Even if it would be the last time. 

You whine, just a little, as he lays a warm, wide palm on your shoulder, a little signal to stop. The fold between your brows deepens, you want to taste him but all he ever does is deny you. 

The white ape stares at you, blankly, only a hint of him underneath. He helps you off your knees, and you can’t remember why you were scowling.

He puts his injured palm against your cheek, and your chest is suddenly filled with feathers. He’s always so gentle with you, and you can't stand it.

Your makeup smeared, you grip his shoulders and press yourself against him, reaching up to grab that stupid white ape mask, pulling it off his face.

He looked better than when he'd last come to you, his face a little more round, like he'd smiled at some point since the last time you'd seen him. 'Better' was a good look for him, but the unbearable sadness remained the same.

He knows you see write through him, taking a fist of your hair, pulling your head back firmly, tracing up your throat with his tongue, only meeting your mouth when you keen for it, brushing your nose against his own.

He'd never make you beg, that doesn't mean you wouldn't

Your eyes roll, mouth falling open as he pushes slowly, confidently, inside of you. You allow him to coo at you, “always so good for me, such a good girl,” and you nip at the hand he’s resting on the side of your face. 

You help him, as he moves you like he pleases, humming as he puts your legs over his shoulders, trying to hit deep. You want to keep him and his formidable cock hostage. Maybe you should.

He starts slowly, softly, praising you all the while.

"I've missed you terribly, have you missed me?" You nod, lovely warmth seeping out of every pore.

He thinks, for a moment, about his revenge, and he twitches inside of you. You don’t know a thing, that’s by design. You’re perfectly drunk on his cock, his fierce lover, completely sweet and soft. It makes him insane, the privilege you'd given him.

"Ah - You always take me so well, fit around me just right. Thank you," You put your thumb in his mouth, where it belongs.

Kid wants to tell you that he’ll keep going. He’ll keep fighting, that he can save enough to get the two of you out of the city. You wouldn’t know a moment of worry for him again. 

He says nothing, tears stream down your face as he ruts into you, eyes glazed over as he takes a heated love bite out of your neck.

For a moment, you see yourself in a year - hopefully less, in a different bed, body changed by him, comfortable now. Maybe even free. Maybe you're retired. Maybe you've gone back to laundry, working like your mother, before you were taken away.

Kid rolls the sensitive flesh of your breasts with his burned fingers, watching you twitch against the wall. Your sad little whines sounds like music, and he can't tell you how he lives to hear it.

With your back arched in a silent scream, you shatter. Lost in heaven. 

You drift - vaguely feeling him pound into you, chasing right behind. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, as if it only makes him hungrier. You think about the first time you did this, how you had to put his hands on you, to let him roam as he pleased. He dared now, he roams all over, and he pleases you by pleasing himself. 

Good, you think. 

"Jaana?" He calls to you from far away, voice rough, "Have I hurt you?" You feel him sigh as you smile at him, stunned. He’s still pulsing inside of you, and he’s asking how you are? 

The heat of him makes you wriggle to get closer, and he almost laughs. Almost. You couldn’t get closer without becoming one, he wishes it was possible. 

“No, you haven’t.” You hum,  pressing your face into his neck, and inhaling. He chuckles lightly, and you want to drown in the rumble. Even after letting a stranger devour you, he still fucks you more sweetly than anyone ever has. Or ever will.

Face buried in your neck, your wrists tight in his grasp, you pray to yourself that he’ll stay with you. That he’ll stay overnight, and the two of you can be something more than what you were.

His grip on you tightens, safely stepping forward, and lowering you back on to a worn out mattress. He doesn't like to have you there. Your clawing grip on the back of his neck doesn’t release, your body won’t allow you to let him go. He doesn’t mind. 

He leans down to kiss you like he loves you, and that was far too dangerous to dwell on. 

[donkeys-waffles]

Just as a warning to those that may be concerned, this is a Bakugo bashing post. If you love Bakugo as a character, then more power to you. He's my least favorite character across the board. And this is me venting my distaste for him, so be warned. Thank you :)

As I'm rewatching MHA, I've gotten to season 6 when Bakugo apologizes to Izuku. And there's something that really bothers me about it.

I feel like Bakugo had potential as a character. Like he really did, even though I don't like his character. I feel like there was potential for him to be an important figure in Izuku's development and growth. And the apology scene wasn't too bad for me. But I feel like it fell short in two major points.

Izuku rarely addresses and monologues about his own trauma/childhood. He expresses very little justified rage and the only real proof of the impact of his childhood lies within his body language and the subtext. His fear of Bakugo, borderline suicidal hero complex, every single scar on his body from overworking himself, constantly undervaluing himself and his efforts/improvements, and much more.

And the last point is Bakugo, I can understand wanting to keep core aspects of his character, but he has to change a little more to have it be considered character growth. The reason he bullied Izuku is because he felt that when Izuku reached out to him, Izuku viewed him as weak (delusional but go off. Literally harassed and assaulted someone for a decade because they tried to help you up when you fell.) His entire character arch was centered around the idea of not just winning, but also saving. He was supposed to understand the importance of both. But not only that, he was supposed understand and accept that help is needed, and you can't always win. I mean, if Izuku were to help him in a pinch now he needs to learn to set aside his arrogance, pride, and inferiority complex to accept help, and not explode into an overgrown toddler because he lost. With learning the importance of saving, he's supposed to not center his ENTIRE objective around strength and being the best all the time. And this could be done, while also still keeping his character true to himself. I always hear about his character development as a reason to like Bakugo, which... I don't completely agree. The only two changes are he doesn't physically attack people (Izuku) and doesn't call him Deku anymore, which GOOD I would hope that'd at least change. But his focus is still completely centered around winning. He says as much after the apology, in the baths, he's still fighting Izuku to become number 1. And that's not a bad thing entirely. I understand that's his character, what I want to see change is how he handles losing, how he handles not being the best and failing especially to Izuku. And what I get is an OVA with Bakugo having a temper tantrum because of a tie with Izuku, he used his quirk and was screaming about it too. It doesn't help that every chance he gets he talks about winning and out-besting Izuku in something, even with his fight with AFO he talks about it. Like he doesn't care that AFO is finally dead, and he saved the world, doesn't even offer a small sense of relief that he helped a lot of people, no, he beat Izuku and is clearly better and that's all that matters.

It's just, that entire mentality is what caused Izuku his problems, this mentality caused Bakugo to abuse him for a decade. I feel like the apology could've been done better, but it was just added to give Bakugo good boy points and then completely brushed aside. He's changed in some ways, but he hasn't changed enough to warrant forgiveness. Not when his competitiveness is still seen as somewhat mean spirited. Even when he found out about Izuku losing OFA, I just sat as he cried and thought "WOW, if I had my childhood bully that abused me for a decade for being quirkless, cried because I was quirkless again and couldn't compete with them anymore. I'd punch them so hard in the face." Like the audacity. Excuse me, I'm the one lying broken and battered in this hospital bed, with my dreams crushed again, and YOU'RE crying because you can't have an opponent for being the number 1 hero.

It's like Izuku is never seen as a person to Bakugo for most of the show, just something to kick aside, something to squash so he doesn't have to face his own inadequacy, and now just something to beat. Something with a power strong enough to rival the great Bakugo. And I feel like the narrative is trying to push that they were fighting for this dream together, since childhood up until this point in canon. That the bullying never happened, like that whole decade didn't exist. They do this through the scene of Bakugo crying and the All Might cards, but like how can you forget the last 5 seasons of the show and what 300+ chapters of Bakugo doing his upmost to crush Izuku under his boot. They most definitely DID NOT fight for that goal together their whole childhood, Bakugo has been crushing that boy's dreams of being a hero for years, instilling in him deep rooted self-hatred and a fat imposter syndrome.

[drunk-on-dk]

His Hoodie | Choi Seungcheol (m)

✦pairing: college!Seungcheol x fem!reader

✦genre: smut (minors DNI), some fluff and angst maybe?

✦wc: 4.8k

✦summary: Seungcheol's fashion was something you took note of daily, so why did his glasses drive you absolutely mad?

NSFW warnings under the cut, minors do not read, 18+ only

✦warnings: frat boy Seungcheol; nervous reader; no specific pronouns used, but reader has female anatomy; pet names (baby); seungcheol is a bit degrading; dom!Seungcheol; switch!reader; unprotected sex (big no no, pls be safe with your partners); fingering; oral (female receiving); creampie; choking a bit; oh god please tell me if I missed anything.

✦a/n: this was birthed from the absolute brain rot of Seungcheol's vlive with Jeonghan... im so sorry for this, i will rot in hell for going crazy over a man in glasses ik it... please enjoy (this is not necessarily proofread, i shall get to that tomorrow)

The day Seungcheol walked into the lecture with those wire-framed glasses on, you had to do a double-take of the boy. His usual street style was substituted for a softer look today. A simple graphic tee, worn jeans, and glasses you’ve never seen him wear before framed his features so nicely. You’d never admit it to him, but you closely took note of Seungcheol’s outfits every time you saw him, and seeing him dressed so soft and casual like this was almost a breath of fresh air. This look was a new one that you’d archive with the rest of his outfits that sat in the back of your mind.

Seungcheol and you were friends, close enough at least to comfortably fall into conversation about things further than surface level conversation starters each class. A little bit of flirty banter here and there as well, as he was fun to get worked up.

You hung around Seungcheol’s frat quite often, being closer friends with some of his fellow brothers than you were with him. Of course, since he ran in the same circle, you were inevitably introduced to him, and the frequency that you came by and hung out with them almost warranted you a spot in the frat yourself. So much so that Vernon had to set a curfew on how late you could stay after parties, informing you that you were picking up on their mannerisms too much and that you should really save yourself while you can. That didn’t last long of course, typically spending the night on Vernon’s futon, Wonwoo’s couch, or in Mingyu’s bed (he’d only carried you there for comfort and he’d sleep on the floor, of course).

Otherwise, you’ve expressed interest in Seungcheol’s clothing before, typically finding yourself wandering into his room late at night when the temperatures would drop after day drinking to snatch an overpriced sweatshirt from his collection. At first, he’d whine and pout, cherry red lips mumbling out that you shouldn’t steal his clothes without his permission. Now, he doesn’t even falter when he sees you wearing his stuff, only occasionally mumbling that you better not spill your drink on yourself or his sweatshirt, steadying you whenever he’d see you stumble.

Seungcheol always looked cool, darker colors and baggy clothes making up half his wardrobe, and you admired that about him. Even when his hair would be a mess from rolling out of bed, an expensive beanie would smooth down his ratty mane. But this, this look was new to you, not that his designer t-shirt strayed from his usual styles, nor did his trendy baggy jeans, but the glasses that sat so nicely on his nose made your cheeks warm after staring for too long. Admittedly, you always thought Seungcheol was cute, but these made him impossibly cuter. Honestly, your fascination with Seungcheol’s style was more so a front for your true feelings for him.

Seungcheol sat down next to you with a huff, pulling his books out of his bag and only peering up at you upon noticing you were watching him closely. Accusatorily, he asks with a jerk of his chin, “what are you looking at? What’s up with you today?”

Snapping back into reality and diverting your attention away from him, you began shuffling with your notebook. Upon flipping to the most recent page of notes, you avoid his question and ask, “since when have you started wearing glasses?”

“These?” Seungcheol asks, readjusting the frames and you peak over to see him struggling to find a comfortable spot for them. “Soonyoung knocked my monthly contacts into the toilet the other night, and my next prescription is delayed.”

“Ah,” you hum, nodding slowly as you look over at him once more, eyes meeting his fleetingly and quickly turning your attention away.

Unbeknownst to you, this made Seungcheol feel extremely insecure, tugging on your arm slightly and calling out, “hey, what’s with that reaction? Do I look stupid in these? Please tell me if I do, Y/N. See, this is why I don’t wear-”

You’re quick to cut him off upon realizing you sent him into a spiral, wide eyes staring into his again as you hurriedly explain yourself, “no, they look good on you, seriously. I’ve just never seen you wear those before.”

He’s back to being smug again, arms crossing over his chest and leaning back into his chair, dimples shadowing his cheeks upon a small smile appearing on his lips. “So, you’re telling me you like them on me?”

This time you pull on his arm and roll your eyes, “shut up, Seungcheol, I won’t hesitate to rip those glasses right off your face and toss them right in the trash.” You refocus your attention on your professor who just entered the room, ignoring the slight chuckle from Seungcheol, and trying to hide the blush that hasn’t left your cheeks since you first saw him. 

Oddly enough, you felt irrationally tense the whole class, your nerves never settling even when Seungcheol pointed out your leg was bouncing at an alarming pace. You felt your ears heat up when his knee bumped yours, a quiet whisper asking if you were okay and soft eyes peeking over your shoulder.

No, you were not okay, you thought to yourself, knowing something was terribly wrong with your brain and hormones when your heart raced from the way Seungcheol peered over his glasses at you.

Part of you was panicking at the suppressed feelings bubbling up inside of you, hating how this side of Seungcheol struck a chord inside of you, his mini act of insecurity earlier making you wish you could just lean over and let him know that he’d look good in anything he’d wear.

By the time class was dismissed, Seungcheol had to wave a hand in front of your vision, chuckling as he informed you that class was over. “Earth to, Y/N? Wanna walk back to the house with me? I’m assuming you’re getting dinner with Vernon before the party tonight?”

You’re stuttering out a lie before you can even think straight, shaking your head profusely, “actually, Vernon and I aren’t getting dinner tonight, so you can just head back without me.”

You see Seungcheol slightly pout, a slightly confused and concerned expression gracing his features. “But you always get dinner with Vernon on Fridays.”

“Yeah, well,” God damn it he’s so cute, you can’t even think straight when he has that pout on his face. You’re ready to tear the glasses off his face as well. “I had to rain check today, promised I’d meet a friend at the cafeteria instead.”

“What friend? I could walk with you to the cafeteria and then head back.”

You’re frustrated by how inquisitive Seungcheol is, annoyed that you were even lying to him in the first place, but he was just making you so damn nervous that you wouldn’t dare to walk the distance to the frat house with him. You’re quick to start packing your stuff up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and holding a hand out to stop him from following you, “don’t be so nosy, I’ll see you later tonight at the party.”

You briskly stalk out of the classroom, being sure to head in the direction of the cafeteria before coming to a halting stop in a safe corner. Hastily, you text Vernon to cancel your dinner plans for the night, letting him know you’ll explain the last-minute cancellation later. It amazed you that Seungcheol knew your schedule so well. Usually, he had plans of his own after class, typically never walking back with you to the frat house, and you never mentioned your dinner tradition with Vernon to him before.

That night at the party you avoided Seungcheol at all costs. Vernon knew something weird was up with you when he found you gnawing on your straw in the corner of the room. His eyes followed your gaze that was narrowed in on Seungcheol chatting with a girl on the opposite side of the room, his fingers timidly readjusting his glasses as he laughed at something the girl said. He could see the way you held your red solo cup a little firmer, the plastic crinkling in your grasp. Vernon was smart enough to understand what was going on with you, but he refrained from saying anything. He always had an inkling that you liked Seungcheol, and he wanted you to organically come to that conclusion yourself. It wasn’t like Vernon to interject anyways.

However, Vernon could also see what you couldn’t. He’d notice the way Seungcheol’s eyes would roam the room in search of you, noting the disappointment when you’d disappear from his sight. All Vernon could do is sip on his drink and shake his head at the way you both seemed oblivious.

This went on for a week or so more, even going to the extent to avoid him in his own house. You were honestly freaked out by the sudden onslaught of feelings you had for him. You hated the way your heart pounded each time you saw him. The glasses no longer being the root cause for your racing heart, but the way his chuckle sounded from down the hall, his gummy smile when he’d spot you across the room, and even the way he’d scold you in class for ignoring him made your stomach flutter.  

Seungcheol finally cornered you one night, grabbing ahold of your wrist as you tried to quietly pad down the halls of the frat house. You were crashing on Vernon’s futon again, only venturing out in hopes to hunt down a bottle of fresh water or a miraculously filled Brita somewhere in the kitchen. You almost screamed in terror until you realized it was just Seungcheol, his hand still covering your mouth as an extra measure when he yanked you into his room.

Seungcheol sat you on his bed much to your dismay, closing his bedroom door behind him as he stared down at you, arms crossed and eyes squinting through his wireframed glasses. He continued to survey you, tongue poking at his cheek as he leaned over to catch your attention when you focused your sight down at your fingers that nervously picked at a hangnail.

“Seriously, Y/N, what has been up with you,” he finally whines, clearly exasperated by your recent behavior, “you won’t even give me the time of day lately. You haven’t stolen one of my damn sweatshirts in a month. Did I do something wrong?”

Your mouth opens slightly, hands falling to your sides as you were unsure of how to explain yourself. You knew it was unfair how you were treating your friend, but you’d only recently come to terms with your feelings for him. How could you admit to him that those stupid glasses of his made something in you click? How could you tell him it was wrong to steal his sweatshirt when you found comfort in his scent and the fact that it was his?

You must have been taking too long, Seungcheol noticing the slight way you shivered, finally taking in your appearance. You were in one of Vernon’s shirts, the oversized tee almost swallowing you whole, your tiny little night shorts peeking out slightly from under the hem of the shirt. With a huff, Seungcheol pulled the sweatshirt off his own body and tossed it into your lap. This was not only because you looked cold, but also for his own sanity. Before you could protest, Seungcheol was quick to cut you off, “just take the damn sweatshirt. You look freezing, and I can’t have you walking around in those tiny little shorts.”

This is what grabbed your attention, hands gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt as you finally peered up at him. You narrowed your eyes at him this time, noticing how his cheeks were slightly blushed, unsure if it was from his frustration with your behavior, or if you could possibly have the same effect on him as he did with you.

However, returning to some sense of normalcy, you bit back at him, “you can’t tell me what to wear, Seungcheol. I’ll walk downstairs in these tiny little shorts just because you said I can’t.”

This seemed to fire him up back up, stepping closer towards you and tilting his chin up. You found yourself standing up, discarding his sweatshirt on the bed as you tried to assert some dominance yourself. He almost made you falter at the way he peered at you from under his glasses, but this time it only made you more frustrated.

You finally broke, the way Seungcheol stared at you as he breathed deeply through his nostrils made you act irrationally, ripping his glasses right off his face and placing them on his nightstand. “If I can’t wear my shorts, then you can’t wear these damn glasses.”

He laughed incredulously at this, “are you serious, Y/N? I can’t see without those, that’s not even fair.”

“Good,” you spit out, pivoting on your heel to head straight for his door, “then you won’t be able to see me walk out.”

Seungcheol did not like this one-bit, sturdy arm wrapping around your waist as he seethed, infuriated by how stubborn you were being and just wanted to get a normal conversation out of you. Keeping you in his grasp, he leaned over to grab his glasses from the nightstand, forcibly turning you around to face him.

You didn’t fight him at this point, feeling exhausted and crumbling at the way Seungcheol’s arm felt like a ring of fire around your waist. His large hand that was splayed across your lower back had goosebumps arising on your sensitive skin. Your lower stomach fluttered at the way his thumb slightly rubbed over the curve of your spine, heat spreading throughout your body as you attempted to say something.

Seungcheol doesn’t necessarily soften, but he doesn’t seem so annoyed anymore. He studies you again, a lightbulb going off in his head before he speaks, “by any chance, do these glasses affect you potentially the same way those little shorts affect me?”

You feel impossibly hot after his question, hoping that the dim lighting of his room prevents him from noticing how your cheeks warm even more. You let him pull you in closer, your torso pressing into his as he attempts to test the waters of your relationship. The hand that isn’t wrapped around you makes it up to your jaw, calloused fingers wrapping around your delicate neck as he stares into you.

“If your pulse says anything, I’d believe you were attracted to me,” his voice is lower now, mockingly whispering closer to your lips as you struggle to utter out a word, your lungs working overtime from the way his touch was affecting you.

His grip on your neck tightens slightly, your chin angling up towards him so that he can stare directly into your eyes. His lips were painfully close to yours, making your lips tingle in anticipation.

“Fuck,” you finally choke out, your lips brushing Seungcheol’s slightly before he uses his grasp on your jaw to keep you at a safe distance. “I need you to kiss me, Seungcheol.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, baby,” Seungcheol is smug, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours. It’s messy and hard, both of you immediately fighting for dominance as you lock lips. The hand that gripped your jaw has now traveled to the back of your neck, using this to his advantage as he controls the pace. His other hand on your back trails to your ass, massaging the plump mound as the kiss quickly heats up, your own hands roaming his firm chest.

You buck your hips into Seungcheol’s at his touch, earning a groan from him as he nibbles at your lip, tongue slipping past your lips as you let out a moan yourself. Seungcheol finds himself pulling you with him as he backs up towards his bed, never breaking his lips from yours as he sits down on the plush surface, pulling you atop his lap to straddle him.

Seungcheol wouldn’t dare to let you go now, only pulling away when he begins to feel overwhelmed by the way your hips roll against his, needing to regain some dominance as you grind against his growing erection.

This proved to be a mistake though, your lips immediately reattaching to his neck as he grips your hips in hopes to slow down the way you rock against him. He can feel your breasts through the thin fabric of the tee, the feeling of your firm nipples making him dizzy as he attempts to come to his senses.  

“Fuck, you’re so needy, baby,” he growls out, flipping you over onto the bed with ease. You gasp at his strength, hips keening up towards him as he pushes a hand against you lower abdomen to keep your hips from chasing his, another hand finding purchase around your throat again.

His hand that was once on your abdomen has now traced its way to the wet spot on your night shorts. His fingers press at your heat, the pressure on your clit making you gasp out, neck straining in Seungcheol’s gasp as you arch into his touch. He coos mockingly at you, “does that feel good, baby? I love the way your pulse quickens under my touch too, and how fucking hot and wet you are already.”

You feel breathless at the way his fingers rub firmly over the fabric that covers your cunt, hands gripping at the arm of the hand that is wrapped around your neck. You could breathe perfectly fine, but you needed to hold onto something, preferably him.

“Seungcheol,” you breathe out between baited breaths, “n-need your fingers, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hums, pulling your shorts off in one go, and exposing your bare pussy to the cool air of his room. You can tell he notices the way your heart rate picks up, his thumb pressed firmly against your pulse as he breathes deeply at the way your legs spread for him. “Such a dirty baby, wearing just these shorts without any underwear beneath them… one would think you’re trying to get with Vernon if I didn’t have you right here in my grip.”

“Pl-please, touch me,” you’d be wailing if it wasn’t for the firm grip he had on your neck, finally releasing you to hold his weight over you as he experimentally rolled thumb over your swollen clit, the way you grinded against his bulge almost driving you over the edge earlier.

You jerk from just the slightest touch, his lips connecting with your neck as he continues to circle his thumb over your clit. A single finger of his slips in between your folds as he collects some of your essence before slipping another finger in. You’re moaning from the way his fingers curl into you, hands tangling into his hair as he suckles at your neck, whispering dirty things into your skin as he picks up his pace fingering into you.

You almost lose it when he looks up at you, lips swollen from being pressed so firmly against your neck, glasses slightly fogged from his hot breath, and burying his face into your neck. Your hips are bucking into his palm as he continues to curl and scissor his fingers inside of your walls, you’re thrashing in his grip as you need more from him, the pleasure continuing to build up in your abdomen. “More, Seungcheol, fuck, I need more.”

“My needy little baby,” he’s chuckling darkly into your neck, contrasting the sweet innocent look of his glasses, the Seungcheol you know resurfacing as he trails his lips down your body. He expertly continues to finger you as his lips pause at your nipples, the hard peaks poking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, and Seungcheol wraps his lips around them, moistening the fabric and running his hot tongue over the nub. He continues to work down your body, teeth nipping at your shirt as he pushes a hand underneath it, raising the fabric over your waist as a hand palms at your breast.

He continues to massage at the peaks, fingers tweaking your nipples as his mouth finally makes it down to your cunt, his tongue darting out to press against your clit. You’re pathetic in his hold, your hands only working to push his face deeper into your heat as he licks at your pussy, fingers still mercilessly working you towards your release.  

What drives you over the edge is the way he looks up at you from under his glasses, your vision becoming hazy as your orgasm washes over you. He mutters how much of a dirty, needy baby you are directly into your cunt, your juices covering his chin and glasses foggy as his tongue coaxes you through your release.

You flinch at the way he quickly pulls his fingers from in between your walls, shocked by the way he easily manhandles you when pulling you up to a sitting position. He’s tearing his glasses off at this point, tossing them to the opposite end of the bed as he’s pulling your shirt off your body. He needs to be as close to you as he can possibly be, no longer allowing the pesky frames to keep him from pressing his face in between your breasts as he nibbles on the sensitive skin.

“You’re so hot,” he’s growling into you, your shaky hands pulling down his sweats as he continues to suckle at your chest, sure to leave bruises on your skin for only him to know tomorrow.

“So are you,” you’re gasping out, hand brushing over his cock, shocked by the shear girth and length as you release him from the confines of his sweats. “Fuck, Seungcheol, you’re huge.”

“Perfect for you then,” he says smugly, pulling away from your chest to pull his shirt off, and you’re falling back onto the bed, hand tracing over the tip of his length to spread precum down the shaft. “Perfect for my needy little baby. Perfect for this needy little pussy.”

He crawls over you, pulling your hands away to run his tip over your soaked folds, tip teasing at your entrance as he gathers your arousal on his length. You’re chasing his hips, trying to encourage him to slip between your walls and fuck you already.  

“So needy for you, Cheol,” you’re moaning out when he finally pushes the tip in, hips bucking in an attempt to take him in.

“Still so tight,” he’s groaning, bucking shallowly into you as you hiss from the stretch. One of his hands has found its way around your throat again, loving the way your pulse falters at each shallow thrust, slowly being sucked in by your walls deeper and deeper each time.

Seungcheol loses himself in the way you gasp, hips bottoming out against yours as your warm walls fully take him in. It’s almost painful how pleasurable you feel wrapped around him, the way you grip his length so tightly, teeth seething into your neck as he tries to pull out only to be pulled back in by your throbbing walls.

He’s thankful for how breathless you are, glad you aren’t making too much noise this late at night in the house, hoping that no one else hears the pretty noises you’re making as you adjust to his size.

Seungcheol experimentally grinds into you, hips rolling into yours as you let out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard, “fuck, baby, let me hear that again.”

You’re moaning out even more, his lips reattaching to yours to capture each moan as he begins to thrust in and out of you. His hand is no longer wrapped around your neck, but he swears he can feel your pulse from how tightly your pussy is wrapped around him.

He needs to be deeper in you, needs to feel every inch of you as he grabs one of your legs and pulls it over his shoulder, pounding even deeper into you. He’s swallowing all of your moans, burning the pretty noise into his memory as he loses himself in between your walls.

You’re so flexible, so pliable for him as he continues to thrust in and out of you. He doesn’t need his glasses when you’re this close to him, pulling away from your lips to watch how your mouth parts in pleasure, hair displayed around you like a halo as he fucks you mercilessly.

Seungcheol can feel how your walls flutter around his length, your pussy clenching as he continues to hit you right where he almost has you screaming, but instead you’re biting his shoulder for relief, blubbering nonsense as you cry into him. “Such a good, baby, staying quiet just for me to hear.”

“Seungcheol, can I please cum?” You’re crying out into his shoulder, legs shaking over his shoulders as he repeatedly hits your g-spot.

“Fuck,” he’s choking out, deep voice slightly faltering as you so nicely ask for his permission. He’d won this round, proving to have staked his dominance over you. “Go ahead and cum for me. My needy baby deserves it.”

Your back is arching, the coil inside of you snapping as he grants you permission with one extra hard thrust, arms reaching over your head as you grip the sheets tightly. You’re only egged on upon looking up at him, waves of pleasure shocking you watching as his jaw clenches when he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the pleasure burning through you and making you moan out in pure ecstasy.

The sight of you finishing is enough to make him fall over, burying his face into your neck as his hips begin to stutter into yours. Hot, thick ropes of cum fill you up as he releases from the feeling of your spasming walls. He slowly thrusts into you some more, overstimulating both of you as your pulse slows down, only then pulling his softening length out of you to watch his cum drip from between your folds.

He reaches to pull his glasses back on, watching as the white liquid drips from your hole, and pouting at the sight. You’re still gasping for air, hips rising at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you.

“Shit, baby,” he’s quickly scrambling off the bed, going to grab a clean cloth. “Let me clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you’re whispering appreciatively, letting Seungcheol take care of you as you no longer have an ounce of energy. He finds you absolutely endearing when you ask for what you initially ventured out for, “can I have some water please?”

He chuckles, dimples appearing as he nods, grabbing the flask of cold water from his nightstand and handing it to you. He watches as you gulp it down, looking impossibly cute after the events that just took place, pulling on his sweats to join you back on the bed after you hand him the half-empty water bottle.

Seungcheol can’t help but feel giddy at the way you finally pull on his sweatshirt. The butterflies that erupt in his stomach are not easy to be ignored when you look so beautiful in his clothing.

“Absolutely perfect,” he mumbles out, hands smoothing out your matted hair as you move closer to him. He much prefers his sweatshirt on you than Vernon’s t-shirt. He basks in the way your cheeks glow bright red in the dim lighting of his room, shivering from the way your tiny fingers readjust the glasses on his face.

“Seungcheol,” you mutter hesitantly, and he hums, staring at your endearingly and coaxing you to continue. “These damn glasses are what made me lose my mind over you.”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at you, all the puzzle pieces lining up on how weird you’ve been acting since that one lecture. He nuzzles his nose into yours, “well, let’s thank Soonyoung for flushing my contacts down that toilet then, or maybe it would have taken years to get you to fall for me.”

You snort at that, snuggling into his arms as he pulls you under the covers. “That’s not true, I was already head over heels for you. Just didn’t know it yet.”

Seungcheol hums in delight, letting you remove the glasses from his face to pull him into yet another deep kiss. Seungcheol thinks he can fall asleep like this every night with you in his arms, loving the way you mold to his body and how soft you feel in his hoodie. Seungcheol also loves when you walk into class with his hoodie from the night before, no longer stealing his hoodies, but rather receiving them directly from the owner.  

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 CWS : 」 Kissing !! But it's not super duper heavy kissing, so it doesn't really warrant much else of a warning or an age rating afaik !!

Wriothesley has a lip piercing.

He doesn't notice how enamored you are with it at first— he thinks you just pay awfully close attention whenever he talks, not wanting to miss a detail. And while that is true... well... you gotta admit, the way his piercing catches the light when his lips move is crazy entrancing.

Wriothesley raises a brow when he catches you staring, gaping openly at the lower half of his face— flustered, if the way that you take a deep breath and shift on your feet is any indication. He smirks, resting a cheek on the palm of his hand.

"Something catch you attention, sweetheart?" He all but purrs, and you jump, quickly coughing into your fist and looking away.

Nervously, you laugh and aggressively avoid eye contact. It's not your fault in the slightest that that damned lip piercing only serves to amplify his attractiveness. And it is certainly not your fault that you can't think of anything else but how it would feel against your lips if he were to kiss you.

"Haha, n-no sir," you tell him, already inching backwards out of the room, but he clicks his tongue.

"No? Well I certainly beg to differ. From my perspective, you seem awfully... enamored by something, my dear assistant." Wriothesley's smirk only sharpens (that piece of metal glints in the fluorescent lights) and he wears the face of a man who knows he's won this little game of yours. With two fingers, he beckons you behind his desk and pushes his chair back, just far enough to give you exactly the amount of room you need.

You're loathe to disobey, not when he looks at you like that, and your feet lead you until you're slotted between him and the desk, knees touching enough for you to feel his warmth through his pant legs. Your palms are sweating, mouth dry and no doubt your legs are mere seconds away from turning into jelly. And it does you no favors whatsoever when Wriothesley takes your hands and gently places them on either arm rest, making it so that you are leaning over him, your breath grazing his lips as you try not to make your racing heartbeat so obvious.

Those blue eyes flicker down to your lips, so quickly you almost miss it, and his breath hitches.

"Well?" He asks. That smirk again— that lip piercing. "If you want a taste to badly, lean down and try it for yourself, sweetheart."

You don't even have to think— there's not a single ounce of you that second guesses. You lean down and lock your lips with his, swallowing the happy hum he makes and kissing him until you feel like you're seeing stars behind your eyelids. Just like you expected, that damn lip ring feels like nothing you've ever tried before. And Wriothesley— Wriothesley tastes like heaven, an experience against your lips that you want to spend the rest of your life familiarizing.

Judging by the hand he buries into your hair, the way he swallows your laugh and pulls you down just to drown you in even more kisses, it's safe to say that he feels the same way.

[grace-mint]

A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 2

TW: Angst, mentions of torture and SA. Let me know if I miss anything.

Y'all I am so ready for this happy ending. (Spoilers: it will have a happy ending bc I can't read angst without happy endings). Also sorry it's a bit short, but I couldn't keep going without it getting way too long.

Rhysand hadn’t slept in three days. He could hardly eat or drink anything. He couldn’t get himself to care for himself, his main priority being the female lying in front of him. As much as his family tried, they couldn’t get him to eat. Only when Amren walked in and called him a ‘pathetic bastard,’ and stubbornly refused to leave until he ate, did he indulge her.

He sat in a chair in the corner of his and y/n’s shared room, far enough away from the bed, but close enough to keep an extremely close eye on her. He had smelled another male on her, dread sitting in his lower chest at the idea of what that may mean. Azriel had quickly captured her father, brothers, and the male he smelled after they found her, unconscious, and had them in his cells at the Court of Nightmares. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N out of his head. Her body was covered in blood, her arms and legs bruised and scabbed up, and her back. Cauldron her back. It was completely wrecked. Her wings were gone. It broke him to know that she lost an extension of herself. As anxious as he was for her to wake, he was grateful for the time it gave Madja to attempt to heal it. She told him it would scar, severely. The trauma her back endured from whips and knives. The trauma of her wings being cut out, in lieu of the faebane that was running through her system, was enough for her back to heal quite slowly. Madja had said it would take several weeks, if not months potentially, to fully heal. Her mind, Madja told him, was another topic entirely. Rhysand had known this, he would never expect her to bounce back from something like this. He cursed himself. Since she left for that mission he had cursed himself. 

She was fine for a day or two, keeping him updated through their bond. The third day rolled around, and instead of getting his usual ‘Good morning, my love,’ greeting he was used to, he was only greeted by silence. He didn’t think too terribly much of it, assuming she was busy, but when evening had passed and still no word from her, he began to really worry. A pit of unease sat in his stomach all night. He had tossed and turned, debating whether he should leave for the camp to make sure she was okay. He had talked himself out of it, telling himself he was being overprotective, and that she could take care of herself. And she could, she was a fighter, the strongest person he’d ever met. 

He told himself this again and again as he sat there in agony, watching his mate, who lay still on the bed. A knock at the door broke him from his trance. He looked up to see Azriel walking in. Az took a long look at the bed, a shadow covering his face, before he looked at his High Lord. Rhysand knew he must look like a wreck. Rightfully so. His mate had just gone through hell. No. She had gone through something worse than that, and here he was sitting, perfectly healthy, when he did nothing to protect her. 

“You need to get some sleep,” Azriel said softly. He was a man of few words, only knowing when the situation warranted it or he felt comfortable enough. “She wouldn’t want you to sit here, torturing yourself over this.” 

As much as he didn't want to think it, he knew Azriel was right. How could he help her recover from this… What could he even call it? Situation? Ailment? No, this was something much worse. This was the equivalent of a lost life. It was an Illyrian’s worst fear; their wings are sacred to them, and the lowest form of insult bestowed upon their race is defilement of their wings. Only a true monster could do something like this. Anger flared in his chest again, the thousandth time in these past few days, at the thought of her father. Even his father, cold as he might have been, would never even have the thought of using one’s wings against an Illyrian. He wanted to kill her father so bad. Better yet, he wanted to rip him apart, limb by limb. And here was Azriel, having the audacity to tell him to rest?

“Shut up, Az.” Rhysand snapped. “She’s just lost everything precious to her, and you are telling me to relax??” 

Azriel didn’t even flinch at the tone of his voice, instead he walked over and placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder. “She didn’t lose everything precious to her. She still has you. Take a bath at least brother. You deserve it.”

Rhysand sat for a few hours after Az left, his mind running a thousand miles a minute. Finally, with a sigh, he got up and grabbed some spare clothes, walking into the washroom. The bath, as usual, was already filled with steaming water. He looked at himself in the mirror. He did look rough. His face was pale and gaunt, deep bags underneath my eyes, and in the eyes Rhysand looked broken. Taking off his shirt, summoning his wings, he stretched them out to their full length. Rhysand stayed there for several minutes, imagining how life would be without them. He couldn’t. His soul revolted at the idea of losing them, and he quickly let them disappear, the ache in his chest growing. He knew Y/N was going to suffer greatly, she already had. Running a hand down his face, he undressed and slipped into the tub. The warm water felt wonderful, but he didn’t allow himself to enjoy it. Rhysand cursed himself, he was wallowing in self-pity. He was the most powerful High Lord in existence, blessed with the most beautiful, most intelligent, and the most perfect mate to ever live, and yet he was still too weak. 

Rhysand scolded himself once again, how could he be so pitiful when his mate is laying on their bed, still not awake. He got up from the bath, quickly toweled himself off, and got dressed. He walked back into the bedroom, hoping you might be awake, only to have that squashed by seeing you still sleeping. 

He sat back down in the chair he’d been living in. He would stay by your side until you woke up. 

----Y/N POV----

Hands were touching me, everywhere. They were running through my hair, down my front, my rear. I was screaming, or at least I was trying to. No sound was getting out. Panic wracked my chest, I was going to die. I was going to die right now. The hands kept exploring, and they reached my wings. Pulling on my wings. Pain sparked in my back where my wings were attached by powerful tendons and membrane. I yanked away, trying to escape. Not my wings, I screamed, the words still not escaping my throat. I shot upright, the screams finally tearing from my throat. I quickly tucked my wings around me, seeking their comfort. The dream was terrifying and all I wanted to do was to turn over to my mate and tuck myself in his powerful arms. But as I went to tuck in my wings, terror struck my whole being. I couldn’t feel my wings. I looked over my shoulder and saw nothing. Another blood curdling scream left my throat. I threw myself out of bed, attempting to run to the bathroom, but I couldn’t make it. I fell, my body off balanced without the comforting and natural weight of my wings. 

“MY WINGS. MY WINGS ARE GONE.” I sat on the floor, sobs wracking my body, the pain in my back that I started to feel was agonizing. I was dying. That was the only possible answer. 

“Shhhh, my love. It’s okay I’m right here.” I felt a hand on my cheek. I flinched away, throwing myself as far as possible from the touch. 

“Go away! Leave me alone! Don’t take anything more from me!” Sobs broke through each of my words, the syllabus coming out choked and teary. 

Y/N, darling, it’s me, it's Rhys. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay on the other side of the room, but you must calm down. A voice struck through my jumbled thoughts. Rhysand. That was my mate. Yes, I’m your mate. Rhysand. You are in Velaris, in the townhouse. We are in our bedroom. 

I look up, seeing my mate in a chair across the room, like he said. His eyes were frantic and wild. He looked pale and distressed. “Rhysand?” 

“Yes, my heart. I’m right here.” He slowly stood up, walking over to me. “Can I help you up?” 

I nod, not finding the energy to answer. He slowly and carefully, with attention to avoid the searing pain in my back, picked me up. I don’t know how he knew where it was so painful, but I was eternally thankful as he set me back on the bed.

“Rhys, my wings are gone.” My voice cracked with my words. “Someone took my wings.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to make them pay severely. Your father will die the slowest and most painful death. I swear it to you.”

At his words, the memories came rushing back. My father, my brothers, the male who used me. My head snapped up to my mate. “You need to leave.” His face fell, “Leave? No, I don't want to leave you. You’ve been passed out for nearly 3 weeks. I can’t leave.”

“Get out. Go, I don’t want to see you,” as I said the words, my heart roared in protest. I wanted him to stay, but he couldn’t. He can’t see me like this, weak and a failure. 

“Y/N, please.” He begged.

“I won’t ask again, leave.” I spat the last word out. I saw him flinch, and I wanted to leap up and beg for forgiveness, but what would he think if I told him what I let them do to me. 

Rhysand, begrudgingly left, reluctance to leave evident on his face. I felt awful for kicking him out, but I needed to be alone, for his sake and mine. 

I slowly stood up, wobbling, and tried to walk to the bathroom. I almost lost my balance, before deciding to just say screw it and lowered myself to the floor. I crawled to the bathroom, placing my hands on the counter, heaving myself up. The sight in the mirror shocked me to my core. My face was extremely sunken in, my body frail and bony, and my wings. The absence of my wings was devastating. It felt utterly wrong. I was wrong. 

I stared at myself in the mirror for a very long time; I hated every second of it, but I couldn’t bear to take my eyes away. A knock on the doorframe forced me to wrench my eyes away. There stood Cassian. His eyes full of sorrow and anger. 

“I heard you were awake and wanted to come check on you.” His voice was soft, as if talking to a frightened child. I just stared at him in silence, before turning my gaze back to the mirror. What was the point of life anymore? I was robbed of any dignity I had left. From now on my life be pitiful looks and watchful eyes from those who knew me. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” I say, without turning to look at him. “Stop it. Stop treating at me like I’m an object about to break.” 

“It’s okay to break, Y/N. None of us will blame you. Whatever you need or want, we will be by your side. If you want to wallow, we will be there. You want to yell and scream? We’re there to take the brunt of it. If you want to burn the world down? We will be there to light the matches.” His words went in one ear and out the other. 

I looked at him once again, with no emotion in my eyes. I saw his wings poking out from behind his back and jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest. “Leave. You think you can just come in here and flaunt your wings around and act all high and mighty. You are nothing more than a bastard who crawls at his High Lord’s feet.” 

There wasn’t a single part of my soul that believed the words I spit at him. In fact, I hated myself for saying them, but I wanted him to feel just a fraction of the eternal soul crushing pain I was feeling at the moment. Cassian’s expression didn’t waver at all though, instead he just tilted his head to look at me. 

“Is that the best you can do? That all you got?” He was goading me on, and I knew it. But this conversation had exhausted me enough. “Goodbye Casssian, “ I said in dismissal. I didn't bother to see if he left, I simply turned my head back to look at the mirror, to look at the ugliest creature in the world. Me. 

----Rhysand POV----

Cassian walked back into the kitchen, his face grim. “She called me a bastard, said I crawled at your feet.”

“She doesn’t mean it,“ Rhysand said, somewhat softly. He knew Cassian didn’t believe 

her, but he wanted to remind him.

“I know. Just hurts to see her like this.” Cassian and Y/N have always had a wonderful

relationship. He was able to be the older brother she never got to have. 

Rhysand poured another shot of whiskey, handing it to his brother. “She kicked me out. You should have seen her when she woke up. She was terrified. She was terrified of me.” His voice was broken. Pain seeping into his words.

“She just needs time.” He knew Cassian was right, but the ache in his chest was overwhelming at this point. Not to mention that the bond had gone numb on his mate’s side. He knew it would be bad, and he was expecting this, but he just didn’t know how to help her.  “She was looking at herself in the mirror when I was up there.”

Rhysand looked over at his brother, “Can I see?” Cassian nodded his approval as Rhysand entered his mind, finding the interaction between Cassian and Y/N. The lack of emotion in her eyes and face was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever seen. She was so gaunt and thin. She was a shell of herself. And Rhysand would stop at nothing to help her find her way home to him and his family.

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Sully Boys Relationship Alphabet

Tags: Jake x Reader, Neteyam x Reader, Lo’ak x Reader, Headcanons, Fluff, Gn!Reader

Warnings: Many Mentions Of Size Difference (Jake) - Non-Sexually

Characters: Jake, Neteyam, Lo’ak

Relationship alphabet between the Sully boys and how they’d be in a relationship with you.

Alphabet template is from https://the-coldest-goodbye.tumblr.com/sfw-template

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [30/12/22] ❞  

Jake Sully

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jake is fairly affectionate.

If he likes you, he doesn’t shy away from making it known.

The way Jake prefers to show affection is through words of affirmation.

This man has literally the most sarcastic mouth on the planet, but you can trust that everything that comes out of it is true LMAO

Will call you pet names and such to distinguish you from others.

I think it’s safe to say it’s canon he would call you babygirl or anything along that line... 💀

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Jake would be someone super funny that you love to spend time around.

He just has such a contagious smile and personality, that it’s no wonder you ended up falling for him.

Depending on who/what the reader is, meeting as a human, the friendship would have started when they began working under the RDA.

As na’vi, the reader would have replaced Neytiri as someone who had to teach Jake their ways.

And from there, with all the time spent with each other, you would have became best friends, until you mutually fell in love.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Jake definitely likes to cuddle.

He’s a pretty big fan of skin-ship, so it’s kind of expected he’d want to cuddle with you a lot.

Jake is relatively bigger and taller than you, so he loves cuddling positions where he can really tell the size difference between you.

He finds it cute, and having his arms wrapped around you makes you feel safe and protected.

Usually Jake will spoon you from behind, or have you seated in his lap with his arms locked around you, his chin resting on your head.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely.

Jake has four kids in ATWOW, so it’s safe to say that he’d settle down.

A very caring, family man who loves the idea of just simple domesticity.

He is not good at cooking and cleaning, though.

You would have to take on traditional roles in your relationship, but not because of tradition.

It’s literally just because Jake is a goofy idiot who will cause more messes than clean them 💀

I don’t even want to think about his cooking. 🚶‍♀️

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This is really unlikely.

When Jake is dead set on someone and truly in love with them, it would take a LOT to warrant a breakup.

The only way I can see this happening is if you were in a similar position as Neytiri, finding out what Jake’s purpose on pandora was for.

The hurt and betrayal you feel is what would cause a breakup, if that’s what you truly wanted.

Jake is an honest guy, he wouldn’t want a relationship based on a lie.

If he kept that burden to himself, that’s probably what would eventually ruin you, if not for the betrayal first.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, Jake would love to settle down, so he doesn’t mind commitment.

Loves it, even.

Like aforementioned, when he finds someone that he’s truly in love with, one of his thoughts on the forefront of his mind is that he wants to be with you forever.

How quick you and Jake would be to get married is quite fast LMAO

It didn’t take very long for you both to mate with each other for life, so… 💀

I guess putting a ring on it is just a formality?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s not very gentle.

He’s kind of rough around the edges, and if there is something Jake wants to say, he won’t be afraid to say it, even if it’s a little harsh.

It comes from a place of deep care and concern, so try not to be too offended.

Physically, he knows he’s bigger and probably stronger than you, so he’s careful when touching you.

Even if you can hold your own, he will still be careful.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Jake LOVES hugs.

He enjoys being able to embrace the person he loves most, and vice versa.

He’ll do it as often as he can, but will cut down on it if you find his clinginess to be a little, too... well, clingy.

Since he’s bigger than you, his hugs would definitely envelope you.

Doesn’t matter if you’re human or Na’vi, this man is big. Do not underestimate that.

100% gives bear hugs.

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈    

Neteyam

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think it’d be kind of average?

Neteyam’s not the type of person to say I love you too fast into the relationship, but also doesn’t take a very long time to either.

Maybe after a few months? It also depends on your relationship prior to dating.

Like, if you guys were initially best friends, it wouldn’t take very long for him to say I love you because that love already existed.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He totally gets jealous.

He’s overprotective man, of course he gets antsy seeing someone else purposefully hit on you.

I think his level of jealousy is moderate; he wants to tear you away from that person and keep you to himself, but Neteyam also trusts you and knows that you love him no matter what.

When he’s jealous, like aforementioned, he’ll swoop in to drape an arm over you or drag you away from the scene.

Will pretty much just do anything to make it known you’re his mate/partner.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I like to think Neteyam’s kisses are sweet and loving, but will absolutely take a heated turn.

He’s always so responsible and disciplined, but with you he loses all sense of control.

He loves to kiss you wherever he can get his lips on you; your own of course, the corners of your mouth, the back of your neck, your forehead, etc.

Neteyam likes to be kissed on his temple, jawline, and lips. He just feels so secure when you kiss him in these places.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has younger siblings, so of course he’s very good around children.

He’s quite gentle with them, and Neteyam loves to play with children (if he has the leisure to.)

He knows how to navigate their fluctuating emotions, wild behavior, and hyperactivity. 

Don’t doubt the fact that Neteyam may want to be a father someday, too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think mornings are one of the only times you get to see Neteyam at his most vulnerable.

It’s when his hair is a disheveled mess, he doesn’t have to perform for anybody, and he has taken off his jewelry.

It’s kind of like seeing him in his rawest form, I guess?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

At night, Neteyam gets kind of exhausted and drowsy.

Since he’s always looking after everybody else, he doesn’t really have the time to care of himself, too.

That’s why nighttime is definitely a super intimate time between you both, as you’re the one who takes on the role of taking care of him.

You’ll cook him a nice meal or wash his hair, and when you go to bed, you pepper him with gentle kisses before drifting off.

Nighttime is the only time where Neteyam really gets to be selfish.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would honestly take Neteyam a really long time before he starts revealing things about himself.

And I mean really deep, personal shit.

He doesn’t care if you know his favorite colour or his time of birth, you can know as many little things about him as you want.

But, when it comes to his own emotional wellbeing, that’s when he starts keeping you at arms-length.

See, Neteyam is always supposed to be the golden child who causes no trouble.

But, since he has nothing to prove to you, it’s hard to open up about the way he really feels.

I think he’d honestly kind of cry if he said everything at once, so you’d only learn bits and pieces overtime.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s not angered easily.

Neteyam has learned to manage his anger and the way he reacts, regardless of his young age, since again he has to be very responsible and put together.

But it’s not impossible.

Neteyam is one of those people who seemingly look like nothing bothers them, but deep down, they have scorching, unbridled rage.

You would have to be pushing his buttons constantly for him to snap.

And that would honestly take so much effort, because he tries to be as cordial and patient as possible.

You would’ve had to seriously fuck up with him to make him truly lash out.

And when he does, it’s not a pretty sight. It’s honestly kind of terrifying how out of character it is for Neteyam.

Aside from bursting into a fit of rage when prodded enough, he does get irritated at minor things, but get’s over it quite fast.

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈    

Lo’ak

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I like to think that since Lo’ak is so overlooked, he remembers every little detail that you mention in passing.

He likes the fact that you tell him all these things, as he’s not used to someone trusting him with bits and pieces of their life.

You might joke about how Lo’ak probably forgets everything, but you know that’s not true.

He knows you better than anyone else does.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship is after he received a severe lecture from his father.

You might be wondering, why the hell would this be Lo’ak’s favorite moment?

Well, that’s because you comforted him afterwards, and feeling your tender touch in that moment made it his favorite.

The way you wiped his tears away, kissed his cheeks, and let him lay into you?

The intimacy of it all made Lo’ak never forget it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Oh god, this guy is protective AS HELL.

I’ve mentioned this in my other posts before, but he is so overprotective about you that Lo’ak absolutely does not tolerate anyone hurting you in any way.

So, I think it comes to nobodies surprise that Lo’ak’s favorite way to protect you is by beating the shit out of whoever hurt you... 💀

If it were you protecting Lo’ak, since he doesn’t want you getting hurt or into trouble, he thinks you shouldn’t have to stand up for him because he can hold his own.

You don’t care though, and defend him (verbally), which warms his heart.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would really try.

Like, seriously, really try.

You find it so endearing how much effort he puts into wanting to please you, but you can’t help but laugh when something always goes wrong.

Lo’ak has a spectacular date planned? Yeahhh, someone is bound to fall off a tree.

He does some chores for you? Mans did the cleaning wrong 😭

But, everything else is fine!

He’s honestly really trying, so you don’t mind when he messes up sometimes. You’ll kiss his nose telling him he’s cute, and soon help him rectify his mistake.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

This shouldn’t be too hard for people to guess, but Lo’ak speaks out of turn often and gets into a lot of brawls... 💀

His worst habit is saying and doing things without thinking them through first. He’s very impulsive.

So his worst habit is his reckless nature lol

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh god, this one.

I think it’s no brainer Lo’ak is very insecure about his looks.

Because he’s considered to have ‘demon blood’, he dislikes the fact that it’s so painfully obvious on his features.

His eyebrows and four fingers are a dead giveaway to this fact.

Therefore, Lo’ak’s very concerned with his looks.

Not because he’s obsessed with being beautiful (he is beautiful), but merely because he feels like an outcast for something he can’t control about his appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Of course!!!

You’re like his other half.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you if you ever left him.

And I mean that quite literally lmao, dude is probably so clingy

You leave for 5 minutes to go get a drink? He’s crying like his lover just left for war

Just kidding lol he’s just dramatic 💀

But he does feel like you complete him!!

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

A random headcanon for Lo’ak is that he’s a heavy sleeper.

I’m talking like nothing wakes him up, and to add onto it, he gets super hot.

He takes up all the space in the bed and will quite literally crush you while dreaming.

Lo’ak wakes up the next day talking about how he had the best sleep of his life, meanwhile you’re laying in the bed like a flattened pancake, SWEATING and finally able to breathe.

Jake and the others could still hear Lo’ak’s screams, as you were after his blood that morning.

[velvet-paradox]

Stay (ch. 1)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Viking!König x Female reader Length: Medium Warnings: reader is taken as ransom, eventual smut.

Chapter One

A glimpse - Payment is due - The Collector - An unwanted exchange

The water from the passing river is cool against your hands, washing away the dirt and debris from your forage through the woods.

Plentiful mushrooms in varying sizes, fresh and zesty smelling ramps, even a few plump berries had joined your haul. No rabbits were snagged in your traps, unfortunately. It wouldn't be the first time you and your parents would be going without meat for supper and surely not the last either. The early change in season had decided that fate.

A wobbly fawn bounced into view on your walk home. It stopped and you both stared at each other before it pranced away through the brush. Not enough meat on it anyway and you didn't have your bow.

Maybe next time.

Washed and cleaned were your score in a woven basket made several years prior on your hip, you mulled over how long your haul would last, what stews you would make the following night, the question up in the air if your father had caught any fish this evening, all of that seemed frivolous. Laughable even as the sudden change in Alpine scenery had changed without warrant.

A shift in the air. When you'd gone out everyone in your village was outdoors, tending their gardens, scolding their children, little ones laughing and learning the hard truths of bullying, someone was milking an ornery cow. A little girl had her own woven basket full of eggs. But no, everything was quiet and not a single soul was to be seen or heard.

You stepped on a branch and not even a crow made a peep.

Walking through the muddy lane wasn't any better. Doors shut, windows drawn closed. The only person you saw was a little tear streaked boy in an alley behind the blacksmith shop. He sniffled and scurried away quickly as you'd seen him, like a ghost.

A dog with a rope around its' neck bolted out of nowhere, damn near taking you out with it as you held up one side of your dress, as not to get too dirty. You already knew a soaking and washing of your garments were going to be at hand but the less mud on the skirt the better!

It was still quiet on the route up to your cabin until you heard a loud CRASH, something tore and your mothers' screams of fright reached your ears. Panic settled in hot, burning you from the inside out.

Dropping your vegetables to the earth below you ran up the rest of the hill, sweat at your brow, bile rising in your throat when you saw the door to your family home was now billowing wide open.

You panted in the doorway. "Mother! What is the meaning of this?"

Your mother clung by the hearth, her sweet face was sour with grief when you noticed and felt a looming presence. There was a humungous silhouette by the dinning table, shielding your father laying on the floor.

Collapsed, in the fetal position, his eyes as tearful as your mother quietly wept in the warm corner. You dare take a few steps in before a massive arm came shooting out, blocking you from the either devastating view or what is to become.

"It appears as though you are lacking in payment this month."

The Collector, the boogeyman, the faceless devil, worse than any lone wolf has not only been to your door but has broken inside, stalking and waiting.

So The Collector was the reason for everyone and their shadows being bundled up in their homes.

"Y/N please…" your father pleads.

"Lacking? But we have three days time to pay you!" Your attempt to stall the behemoth was not as tried and true as you would've liked and was falling quite short on deaf ears. The Collector squatted down, tilting his head to your father on the ground, grunting when he stood, holding your father by the scruff of his shirt.

"Payday is today I'm afraid." He said, but not to you, just out loud in general. If he wanted to address you personally, which was never really advised or suggested, you might perish from his dark and stormy blue eyes on the spot. A rumor had circulated a few winters' past that hung around the neighboring villages like a bad odor.

"What? Since when?"

Your mother scolded you through her tears, shaking her head at you to be quiet, twisting her hands nervously.

"Since today." König gruffed at you, shoving your father down onto one of the dining table benches with a scrape of wood on wood and with a thud.

"How are we supposed to know that the day has changed, without warning?" You made the rash instinct, like you would to a friend or your mother and touched his forearm.

Instant regret took over your frame, twisted up your face when he turned, lightning quick and gathered both of your wrists within one one his large hands. He squeezed your bones together and you winced and cried out something awful. Your mother gasping behind you.

His blue eyes boring into yours made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up and out, bristling with his heinous stare. You could see behind the coal he'd smeared around his blue orbs, he was squinting down at you like you were some bug, something to squish and stamp out. The hood he wore swayed before he pointed at you with his free hand.

"I am your warning, pet."

"I am sorry for my daughter's unruly tongue, she does not know what she speaks."

"Oh I know exactly what I am saying mother, this is unfair treatment and he knows it." You couldn't help yourself. You'd always been a little combative, to others your size anyway, never someone as big and mean and heartless as The Collector.

His laugh was anything but humorous. "He? I am just he now, is it? I am The Collector and I will get what is owed to me. If you have no money, which it is clear you and your family are low of, I will take payment in another form."

….

Your mothers pleads and cries for mercy as König dragged you tooth and nail through the threshold of your home, kicking and screaming all the way. Your battered father could no more or less, as König hung on to you, hefted up against hip like you weighed nothing at all, you prayed nothing on them were broken. Other then their obvious spirits.

Doors throughout the village slammed shut, windows drawn, shutters closed as you berated the man taking you for ransom, leverage to get your family to pay up or never see you again. Your neighbors had taken a chance to see what was all the fuss and seeing The Collector, well collect you, they wanted to part in it.

König's threats if your parents couldn't pay him, with interest of course, would go into account and he'd lock you up in his dungeon until further notice or compliance.

The thought of being alone in some dank, smelly tower or hole in the ground made you squirm, made your skin crawl at the thought of having to bash rats for food, cupping your hands for rain water to moisten your throat. Everything bleak as you'd strike down your days amongst the walls, pacing until blisters broke on your feet, your hair matted and unkept.

Gods have mercy.

He put you down when you both came to the river you had earlier washed your hands and vegetables at, just further upstream were you none-the-wiser to what was now your fate. Dreaming of hot soup and how you were going to get the stains out of the hem of your dress.

Not this.

He grunted at you as he made himself small and squatted down, bowing his thick legs out like butterfly wings. He pointed to the running water once more, a warning to avert your eyes as he cupped one of his hands, moved his head covering and drank. Sloppily at that, your ears picking up his slurps. You did the same, not so noisily of course but you drank enough until you were sated, not knowing how long this trek to wherever he was taking you was.

König barked 'that's enough now!' and snatched you up to your feet, taking out a bit of rope from his belt and looping it around your wrists then attaching it and you to his person. One damp hand on your shoulder to keep you in sight as he started off along the riverbank.

"I'm not a pet you know." You huffed, sweat brewing at your brow, your lower back beginning to warm as you stepped over a small boulder.

König scoffed. "You are now. And pet's don't talk unless spoken to."

"Like I said I am not-"

"You're my pet now, got it?! Unless I give you permission, I want you silent."

The woods were in full bloom, animals chittering to themselves, holding council with their chirps, squirrels jumping from branch to branch, to and fro. The smell of something rotting caught your nose and you went to cover it when König swatted your hands down.

You glared up at him but he only kept his eyes forward.

"It's going to be hard."

König huffed again when you started talking shortly after crossing a low and creaking bridge, having never seen this part of land before made you nervous as you were now completely out of your element. Away from your village, from anything familiar, completely at The Collectors mercy or whatever he deemed right for you.

Frightened didn't even begin to scratch the surface of emotions you were feeling.

"I'm sure I can manage."

"I don't mean you. I mean my father," you started, making a noise when he yanked on the rope to pull you closer. "Was that necessary? He'll have to catch a certain amount of fish or sell some of my mother's jewelry to market, that's if they'll even take it. I'm younger, obviously and I can make it to the market at least three times a day but with me gone I-"

"Will you please stop talking?"

"I don't know what he'll do. What can they do, really? All I know is-"

"Bitte! Please! I am trying to think."

"Of what?"

"Of what I am going to do with you until then."

A shiver ran through your body.

Your father had always told you a man without a plan was either one of two things; either incredibly useless and none to worry about or the latter, which as you began to smell a fire and some nearby livestock your heart sank a little bit more to your stomach.

Dangerous.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

[embersofhope-if]

"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

Twenty-five years have passed since the rebellion, yet the price is still being paid by the Districts. Even though most people alive today had no part in the fight, they suffer the consequences of the Capitol's anger. The harsh reality of the Capitol's cruelty is revealed every year on July 4th, Reaping Day. On this day, two children from each of the 12 districts are randomly chosen to fight to the death in an arena until only a lone victor remains. Parents hold their children close and hope it isn't their child who will be ripped away from them, knowing that there is nothing they can do to stop it.

However, this year is different. This year marks the very first Quarter Quell, and parents don't have to worry about whether their children might be taken away because, for this once-in-a-lifetime event, they get to choose who goes into the arena. But there's no doubt in anyone's mind who's going in when the mayor has a child of his own - me.

Now it's my turn to play a true game of life or death. May the odds be ever in my favor

Demo ☆ Playlist ☆ Pinterest

Customize your appearance (hair type and color, complexion, height, build, clothing)

Choose how you interact with the Capitol and those of your District

Form new relationships and change the ones you already have

Train in the weapon of your choice yes including a bow

Try not to die<3

17+. Content warnings for graphic violence, child death, child abuse/neglect, starvation, murder

Creon Levesque ♤ The Mentor ♤ RO ♤ 19

A special friend in very special places. I met Creon when you were 12 years old at a dinner party my Uncle Keyon had brought me to in the Capitol. Maybe it was the fact that I was very obviously District or maybe it was something else entirely, but from that night forward, Creon and I have had an intense and strange relationship. And now they stand before me assuring me that with them as a mentor, everything will be alright. How they managed to get themselves as a mentor they won't tell me, but honestly, in the end, does it matter?

♤Creon is gender selectable by the player♤

Romance Route: Red flag of all red flags, forbidden love, different worlds, insta love (at least on Creons part)

Aurelius/Aurelia Weaver ♧ The District Partner ♧ RO ♧ 18

My district partner. I don't know them that well, especially after they dropped out of school at 16 to work full-time in the factories. I'm not entirely sure what I did to them to warrant the looks of pure disgust and anger they throw my way after that, but now things have changed. They asked to be the other tribute for District 8, and now standing in front of them and looking into their eyes, all I can see is a predator looking at its prey. They are going to kill me, and they're going to enjoy it.

♧ Aurel is always the opposite gender of Mc ♧

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers, Doomed Love, potential unrequited love, perhaps unrequited but actually requited love😏

Asher "Ash" Fairchild ♡ The Childhood Bestfriend ♡ 16

Ash was the first and only real friend I've had my entire life. They were practically the embodiment of everything good in the world. Everyone loved Ash, and when they had their name called for the 23rd reaping the shock and sorrow was felt throughout the entire District. Even walking up to the stage, they moved like a petal dancing through the wind. Their memory has haunted me every day for the past two years, and now I get to experience the same terror they felt in their final moments.

♡ There will be an option to be in a relationship with Ash before their games. Ash is also gender selectable by the player ♡

Romance Route: First love, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates

Soren Vesper ◇ The Mayor ◇ 46

The mayor of District 8, and my Father. A very stern man who prefers things to be done his way. I've never seen his mask of the harsh mayor who does everything the Capitol request ever break, that is until the announcement of the Quarter Quell. The change happened so fast that it scared me. A once mighty man who didn't care about the people of his district now begging them to choose anyone but his child to go into the games. At least I get to know my Father does care for me before I die.

Tribute and Other Profiles TBA

☆This is my second IF my main one is @shadowsofthegun-if if anyone is interested in being a goofy little cowboy and i have another IF @dustandshadows-if set in the world of the shadowhunter chronicles if anyone is interested in that as well. @konosadmaru is also my main if anyone wants to follow me on there☆

[strawberrycrushes]

Hello can I request Caelus,Jing Yuan, Blade reacting to cozy!sweetheart!reader with a tiny black dog as a companion having the title of "God Slayer"? It is due to them going against pantheons of gods and winning with nothing but their wit and their blade. Normally reader hates fighting and will downplay their fighting prowess, but when push comes to shove, reader will reveal their true powers as their tiny dog transforms into a massive church grim ready to attack those deemed as threats.

Turns out their tiny dog, became their companion after reader and them worked together to save the dogs home planet from annihilation. (A warriors bond if you will)

(If it makes you uncomfy, feel free to decline, but if you decide to do it, thank you soo much!)

A/n:- GOD THIS TOOK A HOT SECOND. Sorry about the delay, Mid-terms have hit me like a bus. In any case, I hope you enjoy.

Blade:-

“You’re an interesting one, aren’t you?… 'God Slayer',” Blade’s voice hung low across the bloodied battlefield, and you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, it was an impulsive decision I know, but I got the Stellaron in the end and–”

Blade scoffs and you look up at him, startled.

“The Stellaron? Is that the part you think I’m hung up on?”

“Huh?” You blink.

“When were you planning on telling me?”

“What do you mean? Telling you about what?” You tilt your head.

“About this,” He pointed towards you, the blade by your side, and the still massive Church Grim resting behind you.

The world around you had been caught up in a Stellaron crises, and with your hand forced, you decided to take matters into your own hands and secure the Stellaron for the Stellaron Hunters to seal. Something they absolutely did NOT expect, nor told you to do (though you had a feeling Elio knew anyway). You thought Blade would be more upset with your risky decision, which he probably was, but given the fact that this was the way you decided to bring up the fact that you were the God Slayer? His reaction was warranted, yet you still remained oblivious to the sense behind it. So you said simply,

“Oh…I didn’t want to bring it up, I didn’t think it’d be that important.” You smiled.

Blade blinked, and there was a momentary silence that made the foolishness of your statement known even to you, though you could not tell why.

Blade took a deep breathe, “You didn’t think I’d want to know that my partner is capable of taking down entire armies of men by themselves? Or that the dog that they keep around is in reality a Church Grim, something that honestly shouldn’t be capable of following you around like this, by the way. Or that they are the rumoured ‘God Slayer’, a person the Stellaron Hunters had been trying to recruit for ages no—hold on, is that why Elio led us to that planet you were on…?”

You give an apprehensive shrug, half glad that he’d found a new revelation to contemplate over. You didn’t WANT to throw Elio under the bus but he could handle himself better than you in the face of such confrontation. Who knew your little exploits would get Blade so worked up.

Blade huffed, “No matter, I’ll deal with him later,” he glares at you, “Don’t think you’re off the hook though.”

“Blade, I apologise if I’ve upset you but… I seriously didn’t think It'd be this important to you,” you frown, “I didn’t even WANT to earn the title of God Slayer. I didn’t know the title caught on that widely, or that you were looking for me. Seriously, I would have told you otherwise.”

Blade’s eyes search something in yours before he sighs. “I know. I know you would have. I just don’t understand anything about this. Why play the part of a pacifist when you’re capable of so much destruction? Your abilities must have come from experience, I recognise at least that. If you had spent this much time harnessing these skills then why waste them away like this? What point is there?”

His voice never raised in its volume, but it seemed to grow some sort of frustration in it. At what, you didn’t know. It wasn’t directed at you, he almost seemed to speaking to himself.

It hurt nonetheless, though.

“I’m not as strong as you, Blade. I was talented enough to learn those skills, but they were harnessed fighting a battle I never wanted to have to fight in the first place.” You leaned back against your sleeping hound and sighed, frustrated. “His world was going to be destroyed, you know. It was going to be annihilated, all because of a single God’s callousness. How cruel is that? I don’t enjoy fighting, but dealt with circumstances like that and the ability to help, did you honestly expect me to stand back and just—watch it happen?” You gave a shaky exhale and the conversation turned to silence once more.

Blade didn’t reply and for a while, neither of you spoke. The bloodied battlefield around you spoke as a chilling reminder of what you had done, and though Blade had always struggled to see the world through your sweet, empathetic lens, at that moment your feats were not impressive or worthy of praise, like they were to him, but a bitter means to a hopefully better end, and a future memory full of pain.

He reached out his hand and waited for you to take it, hoisting you up before pulling you into a stiff, awkward, and horribly well-meaning hug, pressing you close against him as you regained your bearings. He had not thought of the pain you must have gone through until that moment, and he regretted never having comforted you before, but he was here now, he could do it today. So he tried, “I’m sorry, for the way I spoke to you, it won’t happen again. And…thank you, for being there for me. You mean everything to me.”

You buried your face deeper into his chest and stayed in that moment for Aeons know how long, because neither of you could feel the passing time. Then, you pulled away.

“Thank you for that. I- needed it for a long time now.” You smiled wearily, but you clearly felt better. You turned over to call your dog, who jolted awake when you whistled, turning back to normal and merrily rushing by your side. He seemed to sense that something had conspired between you and Blade, and he tilted his head curiously.

“It seems I owe you an explanation too,” You laughed as you ruffled his head. “You’re not the only one.”

Blade’s head perked up. “Do you mean?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you about my past, Blade. But…”

“There’s a but?”

“You have to tell me about your mysterious past too. Since I ACTUALLY asked you about it, y’know. A long time ago.”

Blade sighed and you smiled, knowing that you had won. “Alright. Deal.”

He chuckled as you and your hound celebrated together—and he really began to wonder just how smart the dog was—before jogging ahead as you started to think of a good place to start.

“Alright so, I think I should begin way back when I was a teen…”

Jing Yuan:-

Jing Yuan knew. Of course, he did. As a responsible General, he made sure that the Luofu ran a thorough background check on each and every person entering, and with the name ‘God Slayer’ being so well known across the galaxies—it wasn’t difficult to pin it back to you.

He was curious, to say the least, as to why such a controversial figure such as you would be interested in the Luofu. So, he did as any reasonable person would have done if a dangerous foreign entity was caught aboard their home and called you over for tea.

One could, of course, describe the meeting as awkward, but the word could not do justice to the scene that had presented itself. Jing Yuan was taking it all in stride as casual as if you were both old friends, but you could not spare a moment to relax, for though his attitude was friendly, his questions were pointed, prying and—well, all around hostile in their nature. To put it plainly, you felt like a criminal being interrogated.

“This meeting has been such an honour and delight. Won’t you join me again for lunch next week?”

This meeting has satisfied me for now, but know that I’ll be keeping an eye on you.

You gulp.

“The honour was all mine, General. I’d love to join you again.”

WHY AM I STILL UNDER SUSPICION!?

Weeks went by like this. As awkward as they started out at first, but then slowly, the ice began to melt. Tensions eased as Jing Yuan was reassured of your standing, and you were reassured that he was not going to throw you in jail for your supposed “crimes”. You could talk as proper acquaintances, finally feeling safe enough to treat your meetings as non-hostile gatherings, then as friends, finally feeling safe enough to talk about your life and loved ones.

You introduced him to your dog, and laughed when he was actually caught off guard by how small it was. You reassured him that no, you were not making a little pup fight besides you in battle and that the dog was in fact, as the rumours suggested, a Church Grim. You told him tales of your adventures together. Of life on your home planet, and of the planets you had been to. The friends you made, the friends you had to leave behind. Of the battles braced beside your closest companion, and of the pain they had caused you. The complicated colours that painted your story entrenched Jing Yuan with a feeling of familiarity, for he too knew of the path of the warrior, and you both grew close.

Jing Yuan introduced you to his apprentice, Yanqing, and smiled as you began to dote on him, much to Yanqing’s embarrassment. You teased him about how fatherly his relationship with his apprentice was, and he told you stories of how he raised the boy, the embarrassing moments (for Yanqing not for him) as well as the difficult ones. You listened intently, and soon the sound of shared laughter turned into held breaths and silence as he moved on to his own childhood and what had become of it. His comrades and his master. The decisions he had made as he got older, and how unsure he felt of them. The wars he fought for far too long and the companion he had outlived because of one. His grief and deep-rooted regret. He asked you if he had done right, and you told him he had done all anyone could. The night air felt cold as you let him rest his head against your shoulder; you both grew close and closer still.

His days felt comfortable by your side. You were witty, but also sweet. You felt like his oldest friend and his closest confidant. He could not imagine a life where he did not meet you, and could not imagine how he had fared without you. He even grew closer with your hound, who made him think of Mimu as he once was. A simple stroll around the Xianxhou Luofu would make clear to anyone how much the majestic white lion meant to him, and for once Jing Yuan hesitated. The fragility of short-lived species was laid out clearly before his eyes, and Jing Yuan doubted if it was worth it to keep you chained down next to him. You were brilliant. You had done so much for this world and could do so much more.

He looked up and saw you bathing in the sunlight, instructing Yanqing on his training, reassuring him when he had done wrong and praising him when he had done right. Jing Yuan shook his head and sighed. How ridiculous of him, he thought, to assume that anyone, especially he, could ever hope to hold you down. He should, perhaps, let the years he had lived through be more beneficial to him, and let himself gain some wisdom from them. He had taken far too many precious moments and times of peace for granted, and now, he will at least not waste the time he spent with you.

He called you over with a smile and both you and Yanqing trotted in besides him for tea and a break, smiling and joking all the while. Jing Yuan let his hands lace through your hound’s coat and smiled as well, feeling as if he could not be more lucky.

Caelus:-

Caelus had no past, no point of reference for “cool” but he knew that you were possibly one of the coolest people he would ever get the opportunity of meeting. You were smart, nice, and so well versed in so many aspects of the universe that he could almost label you as a walking dictionary, like Dan Heng. Not to mention your adorable black hound. Caelus found companionship in the dog that he couldn’t compare to anyone else in the Astral Express Crew. You were there too, of course, and some might even say you were cherished as much as the dog was.

That’s why he always felt so inclined to respect your privacy on matters you didn’t want to disclose. Especially anything relating to the title you held. “God Slayer”.

Caelus had no idea how he kept himself from asking any questions about it, since it was clear that you would grow a bit uncomfortable with the topic, but he had already gotten so much practice from the rest of the Astral Express Crew’s secret lives that he just about managed. No matter how curious he got he had to remember, the friendship he had with you was worth more than your past, no matter how cool it seemed, and he just had to live with what he had.

Unfortunately, he was not too sure he was going live any longer.

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM” Caelus let out a cry of frustration. This battle against the Mara Struck had drawn out far too long and though he hated to admit it, he knew he was getting tired, and losing badly.

With a deep breath, he tried to brace himself to launch another attack against the horde when he felt a familiar someone whirl ahead of him at an impossible speed clearing out an incoming bunch of Mara Struck with the swing of a blade.

“?!”

“Sorry I’m late! I believe you called for back up?” You shot him a grin, though your eye inspected him for any sign of injury, showing your genuine worry.

“When did I get time to send an SOS?”

“Since you were gone for so long I got worried. I decided to check on you and…well, you know the rest.”

“See and that’s on why you’re the best,” Caelus smiled as he caught his breathe and got up. “But I’d be more worried about how many of them we have to face. 2 V— Aeons…how many are there? Never mind. What I mean is, this really isn’t the most fair fight, and I’m not in the most ideal condition right now either.”

You smirk “Who says there are only two of us?”

Reaching into your pocket you whip out a dog whistle and call upon the cute little hound dog often found by your side. Except the dog that came was neither cute, nor little and Caelus let his jaw drop. The monstrous howl that announced its entrance felt like it shook the grounds you were standing on, an exciting entrance to be sure, but one that also served to distract your opponents. Taking the opportunity to strike, you leap back into battle, taking on the opponents with tact while Caelus and your Church Grim followed suit and you fought until the impossible battle was finally won, sheathing your blade as your dog turned back to normal.

You were felt a bit weary but all in all, good for the long run, and judging from your dog’s disposition, it was clear that she felt the same way.

“Good girl” you praise her—before being tackled by a panting, yet still somehow energetic Caelus.

“What. Was. That?!” He smiled at you, shaking you by the shoulders, “You were practically an action hero back there why didn’t you tell me you could do that?”

“Caelus, calm down!”

“Oops sorry,” He gives an apologetic smile, “It’s just that I’ve never seen you like that before, and you didn’t tell me your dog could turn into a giant monster.”

You chuckle as Caelus reaches over to pet your hound, both mirroring each other’s excitement. “Thank you Caelus, I’m flattered but it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Caelus deadpans, “Not that big of a deal? Are you kidding me? Even I was struggling with a fight like that.”

“W-well, you did take out a bunch of the Mara Struck on your own before I arrived and-“

The words dried in your mouth as both Caelus and your hound gave you identical stares of judgement.

“Never mind then…” you sighed as Caelus continued to play around with your dog. Looking back on everything now, it was strange to think how far you had come. The battle you fought should have carried a bitter taste in your mouth, and yet, sitting there with the two companions closest to your heart, you still felt capable of laughing and enjoying life right alongside them. Your days had never felt this fun in a long while and your past carried a lighter weight on your shoulders.

“Hey Caelus?”

“What?”

“Want to hear a story?”

[eightballspins]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) what dating jiung would be like

pairing : (p1h) jiung x male reader

rating : fluff

requested : yes !!! my first request thank u sm <333 i love my jiung sm so this was so fun to write and be compltely delusional

warnings : mention of mlm relationships being mis-perceived (is that a word...)??? idk i kind of incorporated how touchy and high affection relationships between two boys is often times seen as just a close, comfortable friendship instead of a romantic relationship? idk if that warrants a warning but prefacing that in case!!

a/n : okokok personally projecting on this one so bear with me but i feel like these characteristics really fit jiung idk lmk if i cooked or not

wc : 3.0k+

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ heavily into eye contact, wants to always be looking into your eyes and yours into his. there’s something so intimate about it. it makes him feel as if you are the only two people in the world and it often times just makes him feel so giddy and calm, at the same time. like, he’s so smiley whenever you two do lock eyes, gums on display and that charming smile of his so apparent. but also calm in the sense that, you two are only looking at each other, meaning that everything that he loves and cares about is right in front of him and its almost as if all of his worries wash off of his shoulders at that realization.

”i can do it,” jiung offers, anxiously watching as you cut the vegetables as your part of prep for dinner. he’s just nervous about you accidentally cutting your finger or skin, even though you’re a perfectly capable grown man. plus, he likes the idea of spoiling you — even if its small gestures.

”jij, i can do it,” you answer back quickly, forehead crinkled as you focused on your task at hand.

jiung can only sigh, watching from the sides as you continued working. after finishing all of the ingredients that needed to be cut, he gently spun you around and kissed you, “thank you for helping out,” is all you hear before focusing on your charming boyfriend that was so softly kissing you.

he’s smiling into the kiss, pulling away and keeping his hand cupped around your cheek. he’s grinning ear to ear, with what almost seems like sparkles in his eyes. his eyes on locked onto your own, suddenly looking even more enthralling. his lips were quirked into a little smirk as he watched you carefully.

his eyes were wide, waiting for your next move and then they gently closed when he saw that you were leaning in for another kiss.

(i love jiungs eyes theyre so pretty idk the shape of them makes me go so insane) (prettiest eyes in piwon confirmed) (keeho close second-)

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ okay so we all know that choi jiung is not a big touchy feely kind of guy. and that stood to be completely true at the beginning of your relationship. you’d have to be the one to initiate physical affection a lot at the beginning and at times it was kind of intimidating because you obviously knew his preferences. but a guy just needs a hug sometimes, yk so you’d hug him from time to time and he wouldn’t really fight against it. over time, he found himself loving all the touches you guys would share and then he began initiating all of the affections. it took a while for him to get completely comfortable to get to that point, but he’s so thankful that you were so patient and understanding of him.

jiung was on weverse doing a live, but it was only the audio that was being streamed. so you were both comfortable cuddling on his bed, not worried about any fans’ watching since they could only hear his voice. he was laying flat on his back, your head resting on his chest as his hand was going up and down your back. you were mindlessly scrolling on your phone as he was reading through the comments of the live.

“jiung what are you doing now? just laying down — getting ready to sleep,” he answers easily, “im trying to recharge because we were very busy today. first, we had to go to a meeting with the rest of the members, then we had practice which just ended, so now im resting and talking to p1eces,” you can hear his smile as he talks, cuddling closer to his chest and turning off your phone.

he squeezes your shoulder to convince you to sleep, which you don’t argue against.

“did i eat today? i did, i had a big meal because practice was really draining. how about you guys? eating three meals a day is very important, y’know? if you don’t eat three a day, you might get sick,” his natural ability to talk so smoothly about any subject what was made you fall asleep so soundly, his soothing voice being the last thing you heard.

and jiung was very close to ending the live and joining you, but he wanted to give some more time to p1ece since he hadn’t talked to them in so long.

“jiung, is someone snoring? is it one of the other members?” he chuckles at the comment, holding you closer as he answers, “you guys can hear that?” his cute laughter is all that p1ece heard, but in the room he was fondly looking at you, “yeah, someone is sleeping, so we have to be quiet okay?”

the chat is immediately flooded with “okay” and “yes”, making jiung smile even wider.

he talked with them for a little while longer before deciding it was time to end the live, it was getting late and he could feel the exhaustion from the entire day catching up to him. after bidding his chocochips farewell with his signature goodbye, he shut his phone off, plugged it in, and got more comfortable in bed with you.

he shuffled down, holding you tight to his body to hopefully not disrupt your slumber, and sighed in relief to be in a comfortable position. his arm was wrapped around your shoulder, securely holding you to his chest as his other hand was just sprawled over the sheets.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ is always looking for you and thinking about you. unfortunately with how hectic their schedule is, you don’t always spend a lot of time together during the day time — usually at night is when you’re together. whenever he’s with the members, staff, or anyone, he’s always talking about you (his yapping self-) or he’s thinking about you so much he’s gone nonverbal.

currently, the boys were shooting some stuff for a segment on their own variety show and while the staff around them was getting everything set up, the members were allowed to freely roam around.

“ah, [name] would like something like this,” jiung says excitedly, pointing over to some random item that caught his eyes. he knew that it matched your current aesthetic. so he turned to look at theo who was closely trailing behind him and asked, “do you think i should buy it for him?”

“yah, jiung be more careful speaking out loud like that,” theo lightly scolds, gesturing to all the mics that were around plus the ones they were already wearing.

jiung waved his hand with a smile, “they’re not filming yet,”

theo only sighs, watching as your boyfriend fondly looks at the item, “yeah, buy it for him, i think he’d like it too,”

“right? okay, i’m going really quick — if someone is looking for me i’m at the cashier,”

taeyang nods in understanding, then shaking his head at what a lovesick puppy his friend has turned into.

when shooting for the show began, they only got a couple minutes in before a staff was questioning jiung on what he was holding. the members all looked at him in curiosity, except taeyang, and all of them sighed when he shyly smiled and said, “oh, it’s for [name],”

their manager face palmed at the side, walking over and taking the bag from jiung’s hand right away, “start it over,” the manager briskly orders the filming staff, making everyone sigh in annoyance.

“sorry,” jiung apologizes, but the wide smile on his face shows he’s not all that sorry about his accidental slip up.

his mind just naturally trails off thinking of you, you’re really on his mind 24/7. if he sees something funny on his phone, he’s sending it to you immediately. if he sees something that reminds him of you, he’s taking a picture of it and sending it to you. if anyone mentions anything that could somehow relate to you, jiung is rambling on about your connection to said subject.

the members find it endearing how obviously in love with you he is, but sometimes it does get irritating when every other thing jiung talks about is you. not because it’s you, but because when jiung talks about you — he talks. they mean full blown five-ten minute ramblings about you.

they love your guys relationship and you, it’s just jiung is such an active yapper already, when it’s you it’s as if the yapping increase by a million.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ knows your preferences like they’re his own. your boyfriend is the most observant man on earth. he can easily tell when something will or will not be to your liking. this comes in handy whenever the members want to give you a gift when they’re abroad (their sweet souls-) or when they’re out at a restaurant and bringing something for you to eat at home. this gift of jiung’s also ensures that the gifts he gives you (read: he loves spoiling you all the time) are perfect and always suit your tastes.

“jiung, what about this? would he like this shirt?” keeho points to something that is hanging on the rack, eyes blown wide, “well, it’s already his favorite color-”

“no, no, he doesn’t like those designs,” jiung says, walking over and acting as your personal stylist with the way he begins to go on an in depth tangent on what your preferences are in clothing, “see, because when it’s shaped like this, he doesn’t like how it frames him. so don’t look at those types of shirts,” jiung hums, walking around the store with keeho trailing behind, “try something like this, this is something he’d definitely wear,”

keeho cheers in accomplishment, even though he didn’t really do anything, and gets to searching. jiung walks on his own, finding souvenirs for both you and him. he smiles whenever he sees something cute, but has to restrain himself from buying every singe little thing that reminds him of you. he misses you a lot…

he pulls out his phone to text you, hitting send just in time before intak is asking him for help too. the man is also looking for gifts for you and knows to consult jiung, obviously. your boyfriend is eager to help, happy to find that his close friends are so considerate of you and your souvenirs from their abroad travels.

whenever the two of you go out, a little thing that jiung does is order for you — now!!! it might sound annoying and unbearable but walk w me. so basically, you and jiung were trying a new restaurant, something that both of you enjoyed since it was a safe option. after looking over the menu for a couple of minutes, you two talk about the variety of food.

“they all look so good, i don’t know which one i should get,” you half-heartedly complain.

jiung’s eyebrows are furrowed as he reads over the menu one more time before turning it to you and pointing at one dish, “this one, i think you’d like this one. it sounds really good too,” he comments, smiling softly at the way your face visibly gets excited at the sight of the food. “i’ll order it for you?”

“yes, thank you, jiung,” you sweetly say, making him chuckle at the tone you were using. he reaches over to hold your hand, rubbing the back of it gently.

“i’m also getting this dish, so we can try each others, if you want,” seeing his selection makes you even more hungry, thinking about how you were going to be eating good tonight.

jiung’s knowledge of your preferences are so accurate that you end up eating off of both yours and his plate, and vice versa. he smiles throughout the entire dinner, finding the image of you excitedly eating the food adorable and a sight he wants to see forever. nothing more adorable than your cheeks full of food and that happy look on your face as you eat.

he is glad he was able to pick satisfactory dishes, smiling ear to ear the entire dinner with you.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ definitely finds you as his muse. there is rarely ever a time he doesn’t involve you in his creation process for music, which is understandable since sometimes he really needs to lock in. but seriously, he finds so much inspiration in your mere presence, you really do help him so much through his writing, composing, and producing process. just by you being the room with him, it helps him so much in everything. it’s as if you lift a weight off of his shoulders.

now p1ece were aware of who you were. they didn’t think that you and jiung were dating, though, mainly due to the fact that you were both boys and they just didn’t automatically assume you were anything more than friends. it was kind of fun that way, since jiung could easily sing praises for you and be as sappy about your guys relationship and the fans will seriously play it off as “i love their friendship”

jiung appreciates that since it doesn’t put you two in an extremely uncomfortable situation and allows you two to hide your relationship in plain sight. and while he can’t really openly show you affection or speak his mind on just how much he loves you, he is glad that he can speak your names in the same sentence and his fans won’t immediately threaten you, or anything like that.

“are you sure it’s recording?” you ask, looking at the miniature camera the company had lent jiung for the rest of the day.

“yeah, when the light is red that means it’s filming,” he clarifies, making you hum in understanding. “hello, everyone,” he greets the camera, reminding himself that he has to act as if he is speaking to a live audience.

the company wanted some behind the scenes footage of jiung composing p1harmony’s songs, which explains the two of you sitting in his studio as well as the mini camera and tripod that were now on his desk.

“so this the process of me writing the first couple lyrics to one of our upcoming songs,” he explains, placing the camera down so that you were not in frame and it was mainly him and his keyboard in sight. “i have someone here to kind of help me through it, but i honestly think i know how i want to do this,”

you crack a smile at the reference to yourself, jiung already watching your reaction with a smile on his face, too.

“it’s a love ballad, softer than a lot of our songs. and it’s supposed to be on the refreshing side, so i hope i can show that process to you now,” he hums, looking at his computer screen, “should i do this or should i do that, is what i’m thinking now because i have a lot of lyrics already drafted up. i can’t show you, but i’m going through my digital notes right now,”

his words make you curiously look up, shifting in your seat to get a good glimpse of the lyrics. reading over the cheesy, sappy, and dramatic lines jiung had crafted about you makes a smile break out on your face.

“do you like them? which one is your favorite?” he asks, scooting over so you can get a better look. you’re in frame now, but it’s fine because he knows the company will blur out your face for your privacy.

all the lines jiung had written about you were all so sweet, it tempted you to give him a kiss right then and there. but you withheld, instead focusing on picking just one line to be your favorite. meanwhile, jiung is watching you like an excited kid showing something to their parent. he really loves hearing any feedback you give him as it believes it makes him a stronger artist.

his hand goes to gently caress the back of your thigh as he awaits to hear what you say. he can see in the view finder the camera can’t see it, so he’s carefree in his actions. anyone can tell that the look in his eyes is that of pure admiration, but he knows that p1ece will be none the wiser.

“hm, this one!” you point a finger at the screen, making jiung lean forward and read it over. the both of you are grinning ear to ear and those eyes of his are crinkled so obviously at the ends.

“really? those one are your favorite?” you hum in confirmation, for a moment forgetting that there is a camera recording you two. “i like those too, i feel like they’re pretty specific so it might not be that relatable to others…but to me, they’re really strong lyrics that show genuine love,” near the end of his sentence he realizes that he has to have some sort of filter and adds in, “only if you know what true love is, everyone, will you be able to relate.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesy line and cheap save, going back to sit on the sofa that was in his studio and going to sit on the couch.

“oh, here there are some lines in here about a forbidden love you guys might like — it’s also a little specific, sorry, but if you’ve ever experienced anything like it, you’ll get it right away!”

┆chronic yapper jiung being the most adorable, caring, and attentive boyfriend out there — i would know, i’m his real boyfriend everyone!! okay but seriously you’d be the center of this guys’ universe if you were his, he loves connecting everything back to you UGH i love jiung.