#I truly said I didn't think anyone could do a cover of it that was better than the original

[skzaholix]

LOVE han jisung x reader w. maybe a little cringy but what is good love without cringe, this is gonna be a wilddd trip, jisungs mother isn't it... , lovesick!jisung gen. angst, fluff , starcrossed lovers sum. your world suddenly comes crumbling down when your lover feels as though you don't want him as much as he wants you so you choose to prove him that it isn't true. count. 2.8k

"they're a disgrace, jisung. do you want to love a disgrace?" the words replayed in your head as you sat rushed out of the home, jisung following quickly.

You both knew of each others feelings for one another, you both knew of the circumstances you both stood in but that wouldn't stop him, neither should it stop you, could it?

" y/n wait , i know what she said back there is bad but-" he attempted to find an excuse for his mothers words yet his mouth ran dry at the thought of any.

you sigh, discouraged and tired as rain poured onto you in heavy bunches, an uncomfortable feeling at best. "jisung-"

"oh how i hate when you call me that." he yells over the loud patters, not bothering for safety as he runs faster, grabbing onto you.

"ji, i'm sorry but i think we should just stop trying... i mean, no one wants us together and no matter what we try it never works." you turn to look at him, the rain covering up whats meant to be tears

"we just have to try harder, love. and if not, i don't think their opinions matter at all." he says, worry in his eyes as he calculates the possible outcome of this

"no ji, you don't understand. you're not the one being berated everywhere because of your social classing" you pull your arm from his grasp, looking at him with a cold stare.

he had never seen you in such a light towards him, perhaps he deserved it but who would he be if not a fighter for something he truly held valuable.

"okay, you're right i'm sorry-" he said huffing out a breath.

"no you're not sorry, you're selfish." you stare at him, expression blank as tears continued to fall with each passing blink.

his expression changed from one of worry to one of desperation.

"I'm... selfish?" he asked, his eyes saddening as he frowned.

"yes! you force me into this stupid relationship when all i get is reprimanded so yes, you're selfish."

you truly didn't mean it. jisung was persistant, he'd fight for something no matter what but you were tired, endlessly being dehumanized at the hands of anyone with any superiority.

"I thought you wanted- I thought you liked me..." he breathed heavily, his mind racing with many thoughts as he tried to mask the hurt. It was scary, how well he'd done it though, his eyes now showing a cold glare.

"Fine. I don't even know why I bothered, got my clothes all soaked for nothing." He said, his stare intense on you before he walked back into his home almost robotically.

your heart hurt as you watched him walk back into his home but you knew maybe it was all for the better.

The campus cafeteria buzzed with loud chatter as everyone prepared for lunch. Jisung sat at a table across the cafeteria from you but yet his eyes never seemed to stop looking at you. You were reading a book, paying little to no attention to your food.

Felix stared at Jisung with concern before following his gaze. "you alright? why don't you just go over there and sit with them?" He said, waking Jisung from his trance. "We're.. not together anymore," he said quietly before felix looked at him with a look of sympathy.

"Oh... I'm sorry," he replied as the table for the two had gotten quiet, of course before seungmin ruined the silence.

"Why are you watching them like a hawk then?" Seungmin asked, sliding his tray of food next to Felix's, giving a blank stare despite his ruthless remark, earning a glare from felix.

"Don't they look a little bad? I mean- not bad just... like they've been through a breakup and are upset?" Jisung was down bad, feeding off delusions in his head to prove to him that what you said wasn't true.

"No, they look the-" Seungmin starts, only to be stopped by Felix.

"I'm sure they're just as hurt as you are hyung" Felix suggests causing Jisung to nod.

Truth be told, you were. You'd taken a lot of effort to even get out of bed today and get ready, not to mention the self torment and strain you had to endure even trying not to look his way, it was torture.

Hyunjin appears at the boys table, his eyes squinted as he looked at the faces around him. "What's going on?"

"He's going through a breakup." Seungmin says, pointing at Jisung before going back to chewing on his food.

"A breakup? I think I have a good idea for you to get over it" Hyunjin suggest, cleaning closer to Jisung who only pushes him away.

"I don't wanna get over it. I want them" He pouts, covering his face in mental torment.

" this isn't right for your mental, maybe you should try to move on..." Felix says, bringing a hand to pat the man on his head.

"Right. That's why I suggest you go out with Yunhee" Hyunjin says with a smile on his face as Jisung glares at him.

"What?"

"Cmon, she's has a crush on you. She has had for a long time. Its way better than unrequited love."

"Hyun, that would be unrequited love" Felix says to which Hyunjin shakes off.

"He can fall in love with her, you can't fall inlove again, everyone knows that." Hyunjin says as Jisung sighs deeply.

"If i do it, will you shut up?" he asked, his eyes bored as Hyunjin nods with a smile.

You felt maybe you were doing right and that as time moved on you'd only get better. Yet, the thing is that the heart wants what it wants and the feeling of being happy will only be there for but so long before you're longing that true happiness once more.

That's exactly how you felt as you watched Jisung walk down the hall with Yunhee, the same girl who's always had a 'crush' on Jisung.

Yunhee was a bit of a childish person, spoiled, bratty, but luckily for her, rich.

she was also your mortal enemy who took it upon herself, even now at her big age to want whatever you wanted, even the things she knew you couldn't have, for example, Jisung.

You knew she didn't like him, she and her friends would joke about it everyday, stealing him from you just to see you with nothing.

She was using him, using your jisung.

"Hey ynnie!" You heard a bright cheery voice behind you belonging to no other than Felix.

You turned around to look at him, a playful grin on your face. "Aren't you Jisung's friend now? I saw you sitting with him yesterday."

He tilted his head, pouting. "Can't a guy have friends? I feel like a child of divorce."

You roll your eyes. "Why is jisung with Yunhee?" You ask, nudging your head towards the two.

Felix gives you a knowing look, a small smirk on his face. "Why? Jealous?"

You glance at him, scowling. "I just think it's ironic someone who says he's so hurt about a relationship is back with someone else in less than 72 hours" you cross your arms.

Felix nods, "Don't worry, he's just doing it for Hyunjin, they'll either be linked by the arm or complete strangers by time the college christmas party is over depending on how well they're communicating"

linked by the arm.

meaning dating?

obviously y/n.

uh oh.

truly you hadn't seen this one coming, you obviously weren't expecting for him to find someone else so quickly whilst you were still mourning. for that same person to be the one who never even cared about him.

you left hurt him just for him to be hurt again. there's no way you'd let yunhee go through with whatever trick she was going planning.

so you tried, speaking to him for the first time in what felt like forever

Jisung sat in the chair of the music room by himself as he looked over the notes for a song he'd been learning on guitar.

You'd been there everytime he let you listen to the rough drafts of his finishing project; it felt a little bittersweet hearing the finished version.

He played the notes softly, his eyes intently staring at the paper before he pushed his glasses up on his nose, letting out a sigh.

"Whoever's standing there you don't have to be a stalker, make yourself known" he said bluntly, causing you a little panic.

"Sorry..." You muttered but he recognised your voice instantly, his eyes widening as he quickly glanced back, putting his facade back on once more.

"What do you want?" His tone was cold, much like yours on the night you broke his heart.

"Can we talk?" You ask quietly, pushing the door to the music room closed a bit.

He let out another sigh, this time deeper and sounded annoyed. "What?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Yunhee" You started and the delusions in his mind almost made him think you were jealous, causing his heart to beat a little faster at the possibility.

"What? Are you upset i'm with someone else?" His tone and his heart are speaking two different languages because his tone is cold and upset but his heart is longing for you to want him, to accept him as much as he does you, if only he knew.

"What? No no, I just- Yunhee is only gonna hurt you, i don't think you should go out with her." You admit honestly, a look of concern in your eyes as you try to mask the feeling of hurt.

He scoffs, letting out a harsh laugh before standing. "You can't be hypocritical, y/n. It isn't a good look on you." he brushed past you before you could even get a chance at speaking.

Another thing about Jisung was that he was stubborn, very stubborn. And yet so were you.

A few days later, Jisung sat at the table with Felix, chewing on some carrot sticks they served which honestly were the first time they ever tasted fresh like they did today.

You rushed over, placing your hands on the table as a halt, getting the attention from both boys before Jisung looked back down at his food quickly.

"Ji..." You spoke, trying to get his attention.

"Jisung please..." You begged, walking over to the opposite side of the table to sit with him, gesturing to felix that now wasn't the best time to sit there to which he took the hint.

"Ji-"

"What do you want this time." He said, his eyes never landing on you, his attention only focused on the orange vegetable.

"Listen i'm sorry about what I said, i never meant to hurt you.."

"That's not gonna make me any less hurt, y/n. If this is an attempt at getting Yunhee gone, it's not working." He said bluntly.

"What? Jisung no-" He scowled at the name again.

"You know, you don't want me, neither do you want anyone else to. do you just hate me, y/n?" He asked, now staring at you with a death glare. If looks could kill, you'd be ready to be shipped off in a coffin.

You sit in shock and silence at his words, causing him to scoff in disbelief, standing up as he collects his stuff.

You manage to grab his hand when he walks by but he pulls it out of your grasp before you can even get a word out.

Two weeks has passesd since you last interacted with Jisung and everytime he sees you, he avoids you like the plague. You've come to the conclusion that he is complately done with you, that you're both done. It hurt like hell, you could barely even force yourself out of bed for the first week, let alone focus on anything besides the fact that you lost the greatest thing life can give you.

It was now lunchtime and you sat at your usual spot, now more caught up in a book than ever, anything to distract yourself from looking over across the cafeteria where they could see you. Luckily for Jisung, as you would've caught him staring at you from afar.

"Goodness, they look like they haven't been eating. You guys think its my fault? Fuck, i'm so stupid." Jisung scolds himself, covering his face as he tries to hide the tears threatening to slip.

"Han, I don't think you should be worrying about your ex when you have a nice date tonight with your new date." Hyunjin says although his still pats his back for comfort.

Han breathes in for a second, nodding slowly as he wipes the tears from his face, Felix's eyes filling with concern before his eyes glow with oppurtunity.

"Alright fine, this'll be the last date before i go off to weep in misery" He says before sighing deeply.

Felix turns up to your home with a big smile on his face, as he explains his idea of you finally speaking to Jisung, and tells you that Jisung also is going through a rough time and is only mad at you because he thinks you don't love him.

So thats how you end up at the party, standing awkwardly. You'd had over 6 drinks of some random non alcoholic drink to keep yourself from looking too awkward but now you've got to pee.

you walk to the bathroom which is very close but stop when you hear a conversation and familiar voices.

"jisung? nah i only need him to get back at y/n, remember?"

"ah, you think he actually is starting to like you yet?"

"that'd be a bummer, but it may benefit his parent's are rich. probably the only reason that bitch wants him."

"right, that's genius"

their conversation made your blood boil. she not only was using him to get back at you but she also was using him to get free money?

even if you couldn't win him back, you'd get your revenge before she thought of doing whatever she wanted to.

she walked out of ther bathroom, watching you stand there with a glare on her face. "Privacy much? no one asked you to be a stalker."

you stared at her , rage filling your eyes before you looked into your 7th cup, filled with juice inside, throwing it right into her face.

convienetly enough, Jisung was right outside the door to the bathrooms so he heard the loud shriek she gave and came inside, only to find you standing there holding a red solo cup outside down, leaking small drops of red juice onto the tile floors, causing Jisung to cringe before he walked over to you, looking at you in disbelief.

He grabbed your arm, softly, pulling you out of the bathroom and into a room more quiet, ignoring the screams from Yunhee.

He paced the room as you sat on a desk in the from, looking at him.

"What the hell was that?" He finally asked, looking at you.

"Ji- she said something bad about you! why are you upset with me?"

He glared at you, this time in an unrecognizable way. it was neither angry, nor cold, just frustrated?

"You... You confuse me Y/n. " This gets you to look up at him, your mouth dry, unable to answer.

"You tell me you love me, and want to fight, for me then you go and tell me i'm selfish when you cloud up every fucking thought I have, not even the valuables you say I want so bad can even match your value, how much I want you." Your eyes widen, unable to speak; he doesn't want you to anyways, he's not finished.

"Then you act all sweet and hurt, making me hurt for you yret, you can't even say no when I ask if you hate me and now... you're.. you're fighting someone for saying they want to hurt me, making me all fucked up."

The room is in complete in silence as you two stare at each other, desperation and shock in both of your eyes.

"say something please... do you love me? If you don't... I'll try, I'll get over it"

"ji... I do... I really really do but-"

"oh you know I hate it when you say "but" ..." he groans a little, moving closer as his eyes fill with desperation.

" I don't wanna go through that again... and I know it's unfair and downright selfish for me not to want you to move on but I just... I want you..."

he stares at you with hearts in his eyes as he softly grabs your arms.

"I'll do something about it... I promise it'll stop just next time tell me about this stuff, I can't lose you again, especially not like this." he says, staring into your eyes.

the room falls silent once more before you pull him into a passionate kiss, one filled with desperation, longing, and the taste of peppermint candy canes on his tongue.

"I love you, y/n so so so much."

"I love you so so so much as well, hanji"

AUTHORS NOTE: hello everyone this is the first part of amore, mio !! this was honestly a plot I had been drifting back and forth from but basically I can say I honestly got the whole idea for this series based on @dearbrisky ( this is a different plot than you asked for i apologize) asking for hopeless romantic hanji so i decided why not do a love trope for all members . I also wrote this all in the middle of the night and its not quite proofread so please tell me if there are any gendered terms used in here !! i'm also not the best writer so please do tell me if this writing g pace felt like whiplash

[icedbatik]

Your choice (choosing both is good)

@hockeylovinglibrarian and I were having a chat, as friends do, about quilts. Yep, quilts. And, as conversations with friends do, this one kind of pinballed. Until I landed here, spending my afternoon watching about as many versions as I could find of the band Disturbed performing the Simon and Garfunkel classic "The Sound of Silence."

Seriously, do yourself a favor and watch it. (The "Conan" version is the first one I watched and it gave me chills. The official video, though, also is spot-on.)

[valeriele3]

Yellow Carnations

A Hanahaki disease + SAGAU/Cult AU

Notes: Wanderer will be called Wanderer, or you can imagine the name you gave him, and Traveler will be referred to as Traveler since no one knows their real name except their sibling (and maybe Paimon?). Sorry this is rushed

A story where ones hope to love another turns hopeless.

"Traveler, can I.. tell you something?"

"Hm? Of course!"

You whip your head around to make sure no one else but the traveler can hear and whisper to their ear, "I like Wanderer."

The Traveler's eyes widen at your sudden confession and excitedly say, or rather, exclaim, "You do!?" She laughs bubbly. "I knew it! Sooo, when are you planning to confess?" They ask, their eyes practically sparkling.

"C-Confess!? No, no, no. I can't do that. Or at least, not yet!"

"And why not?"

"I don't even know him that well; I doubt he even remembers me."

"As if. you're practically hovering around him 24/7. I'm sure he remembers you. I would even go as far as to say that he likes you back!"

"Really? You think so.?"

"Mhm! If he didn't like you, he would've told you so, harshly, or even ignored your entire existence."

"Then..do you think I have a chance? You're really, really~ close to him, right?"

"Hmm~..Yeah?"

"Wha, so I really don't have a chance..!"

"Kidding, kidding, I think you have a high chance."

You continue to panic inside and overthink the possible endings if you were to confess. The traveler, noticing this, tells you, "How about this? I ask him if he's currently into anyone and maybe even pry enough to get him to say the name, ahem, your name, ahem."

"Really? You would do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my best friend."

"Of course I like, no, I love them. That isn't even a question worth answering; it's a given." Wanderer rolls his eyes and walks away to who knows where.

After waiting until the man was gone, you slowly walk out of your hiding spot, bubbling with joy. You and the traveler share a look and high-five each other.

After finding out about Wanderer's feelings for you, you consistently hung around him more; he always acted annoyed, but it wasn't any different from past interactions you've had with him.

You figured that this truly is just how he shows affection, somehow, like a tsundere!

And so you bid your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to confess.

And when the time came, you faced a great humiliation.

It turns out he wasn't in love with you at all. No, he could never fall in love with someone like you; he said it himself after all.

You felt sick in your stomach, like it was churning, your throat was aching, and it felt dry.

While it was true he loved a Y/N, the Y/N he loved was not you. He loved the Creator.

How did you not know about this Creator? They even have the same name as you.

Wait, no, something's weird. What's this about a creator? You don't remember Teyvat having anything like that.

But before you could ponder anymore, your train of thoughts was interrupted by a coughing fit, covering your mouth with your hands. You tried to stop coughing, but the itching feeling was too much to handle.

Cough

Cough

You pause, 'petals?', where did the petals come from? There's no flowers around you

Clutching your hand, you began to spiral in your thoughts.

D̵̢̟͔̱͕͑̍͒̋̔̊̽́͝ǫ̷̧̧̜͍͖͎͕͉́̓́̍͜ ̶̻̲͛̀͛͑̒̾̕͝y̵̹̮̖͊͊̍̄̔͠ŏ̵̌��͇̺̯͓̗̫̜̝̏͜͝ú̵̪͚̫̬͈̙̭͈̙̈́́̌͗̐̂͋̓̔̈́͑̓͠͝ ̷̨̧̩̠̱̘̳̜̝́̐̉̅̐͗͒̏͗͝r̵̛͉̃̂̎̾̋̎͆̎ę̴̧̧̛̛̪̱̜̞͚̦̘̳̙͙͉̄̇̋͋́͑̓̎̌͜͠͝͠ṁ̶̡̢̬̤͖͙̪̟̰̹͇͕̹̼̿͒̋̄̈̽̂̔̑͌̃̒̒͜͝e̵̖̻͚̝̦̘̤̓̒̉m̴̢̝̝͈̭͙̯͚͊̀͐̍̊̈́̚͘ḇ̶͉̬̖̅͒̂̽̔̆̊̆́͒͑ͅe̸͙̞̭̮̽͌̀̓̈́̎͂r̷̻͓̠̬̖̙̗̺̥̹̺̠͕̄͊̀̀̑̔͛̃̀͋͗̀͘͝ ̶͔͕̽͒̓̈́͋́̒̒̓̚í̶͍̺̣̞̟͐͐ͅt̴̹͐̎̾̃̚͝ͅ?̴̘̥̫̲͈͉̊͗̉̇̆͆͛͑̾͘͝ ̷̹̝̝̳͔̪̖̩̜͍͚͇̀̀͘H̶̫̺̿̅̍́̽̃̇͋͗a̸̧̢̢̢̛̯̮̫̩͙̠̫͔͙͔̔̀͊͒̾̆̽́n̴̨̞̬̾͜ą̶͙̥̥̻͎̼͂̓h̵̫̤͚͖̙̐á̷̧̧̪̥̭͖̂̂̐̔́̊̐͜͜ͅk̵̘̰̎̓̇͗͆͗́̿̈͛̀͠͝ͅi̶̛̳̍̈́̚ ̸̧̲̘̰̯͓̈́̓́͊͂́͊Ḑ̶̼̰̰͍̫̗͔̩̣̤̻̝̮̲͛̾̑͠i̶̧͖̪̋͌͌̒̔̉͐͋́́͗̿͆̅͠ş̶̲̬̦̺̖̀̒͒͂̆͛ę̴̡̝̳̩̝̹̥̯͇̮̻̪̟̬͑̑͐ằ̴̡̡͎͓̬̱͚͎͈̯̦̇͒̅͊ś̸̢̧̺̘̜͇̰̯͚̦̉̉e̵̡̡̤̙͖͉͍̝̭̞̝̓

"Y/N?"

The traveler spoke

"Are you alright..?"

Silence

The Traveler kept calling out to you but received no response.

'Ah..'

'My head..it hurts..throat..water..'

"Y/N?"

'Is someone calling me..?'

"He— Y/N!"

Thud

Opening your eyes, you see an unfamiliar ceiling above you.

Now on alert, you begin scanning your surroundings.

Creak

Surprised by the sudden sound of the door, as if by reflex, you quickly pretended to be asleep, just like the times you pretended to be asleep when you still stayed at your parents house when you were younger.

"Oh, you're awake."

They begin to move closer to you, and your breath hitches, but you remain unmoved.

"Chill Y/N. It's just me."

Now able to listen to the voice more clearly, you realize it's the Traveler.

Slowly opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Traveler smiling at you beside your bed.

'I knew the traveler was good-looking, but damn. Imagine waking up to this sight.'

"Here, drink some water." The traveler offers, and you reach for the water in their hands, of course, saying thank you in the exchange.

"What happened?" you ask.

"You passed out out of nowhere; oh, don't worry, I made sure to get you checked out by a doctor, and they said that you probably just overworked yourself."

"I see.."

"Oh! The petals..! Did the doctor say anything about it?" You inquire.

"Petals? What petals?" the Traveler tilts their head in confusion.

"Before I passed out, I think I coughed up some flower petals."

"Ah..you must still be a bit dazed. Don't worry, you didn't cough up any petals. And if you did, well, that's a bit worrying. We can get you checked again if you want."

You shake your head, "No, its alright, I trust you. I probably just imagined it or something.."

Deciding to trust your friend, you try to move onto another subject, "By the way, where are we? I don't recognize this place."

"Oh! We're at my teapot."

"Hmm~ You decorated this place wel—I mean, what?! Teapot!?" Realizing that the Traveler might find it odd if you don't question how being inside a teapot works, you acted surprised in the middle, hoping that the Traveler would fall for your clumsy acting.

The Traveler stares at you for a second or two before answering. "Yup! I got this as a... gift of friendship. It uses adeptal energy to maintain the place, I guess? I don't really know the complexities about this place, so you can just ask Tubby about any questions regarding this place." The Traveler explains

"Hmm..Adeptal energy, huh? I've heard of that before..Liyue, right?"

"That's right!"

As you and the Traveler engage in casual conversation, you start to feel an itch in your throat, but you decide to ignore it. It's probably just a common cold about to come.

After resting for a few days in the teapot at the behest of the Traveler, you began engaging in your normal everyday life, or as normal as it could; you no longer hang around the Wanderer and try your absolute best to avoid ever running into him. Some people either look at you mockingly or with pity. But it's fine. You don't care about them; they won't have an effect on your life.

Another thing that's different from normal, though, is the fact that you're coughing up blood-stained flowers.

You didn't know the cause; you didn't want to worry other people, so you didn't tell anyone, but you did go see a doctor secretly, although not even they could provide the cause.

All you knew was that, upon looking back, it all started with a small cough, flower petals, and then as time went on, you started coughing up petals with blood.

You were worried that the next thing that might come out of your mouth might be full-grown flowers, but surely that's not possible, right?

A/N: SO..This was supposed to be an idea post like Live Stream, but the past me decided to write about it at the time with no planning whatsoever. Even the character chosen (Wanderer) was not planned. It was originally Xiao, but I couldn't do it since the dialogue didn't feel "Xiao," so I just swapped it with Wanderer since he has a very veryyy blunt personality.

So yes, this is technically unfinished, and I don't think I'll ever get back to it if I just continue to leave it inside my drafts.

Feel free to make a fic out of this, and if you do..PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME. I'VE BEEN CRAVING SAGAU + HANAHAKI DISEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Additional notes regarding this fic are in the comments

[eufezco]

SUPER SHY - JOEL MILLER x FEM!READER

SUMMARY – when Joel's keeping you company while you're showering, he sees something he wasn't supposed to.

english isn't my first language <3 // this is pure SMUT

A/N – omg it's been so long but i literally have no inspiration so if anyone has any request... also, i've been writing for the walking dead, especially daryl, but that's still in my drafts because i don't know if there's anyone interested in that. ANYWAYS, i hope this isn't so bad

He didn't mind. He truly didn't care. He was sitting on the toilet, bent forward, with his elbows on his knees and one of his legs shaking out of impatience. It was true that he'd rather be doing other things but with a bit of luck you'd be done soon and he'd leave. Although he didn't have much to do either, he was sure they needed some last-minute people to patrol.

He had been sitting on that toilet every night for at least thirty minutes every time you took a shower. Since you lacked music, you needed some other type of distraction and Joel wasn't the best for it but it was your only option.

"What was the last movie you saw?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"I'm sure you do remember, you are just too lazy to think. For me, it was Spiderman, my brother took me to the movies but I don't remember enjoying it. What was yours?"

"I think it was Catch Me If You Can."

"Never heard of that."

Of course not, he said to himself. The sound of falling water made your voice sound fainter so he had to readjust his position to hear you better. His back was now against the toilet, he ran his hands over his face. It was starting to get a little hot inside the bathroom as well. Joel looked in your direction, trying to understand what you were saying but quickly looked away. Joel closed his eyes tightly and then opened them wide again without knowing what to do. When he leaned back and looked in your direction, he expected nothing, only the curtain that was hiding you, but instead, he found a perfect view of your round and wet ass.

Joel swallowed nervously and shook his head, trying to erase that image from his mind, but it was so perfect and the water slid so easily down it. No, no, no, fuck he mumbled, massaging his temples. The way his teeth would sink into your skin there, and they would mark your soft skin just right.

"Are you okay?" You peeked your head through the curtain. Your brow furrowed as you saw him looking away.

He nodded.

"Can you pass me the bathrobe, then?"

Fuck, you were doing this on purpose, he thought. He stood from the toilet and you waited behind the curtains. You went out of the shower wrapped in the robe.

"I'll leave so you can change." He announced. His eyes briefly looked away and moved down to your breasts covered by your bathrobe, he could see how hard your nipples were and how the drops of water slid down your cleavage. You raised your eyebrows and Joel never looked you in the face again. He tried to get out of the bathroom, ashamed enough already, when you blocked his way with your body.

"I saw you looking at me, Joel. You won't get away so easily."

He didn't know what to say. Should he apologize? Should he leave anyway? He'd been looking after you practically since this started, since you two met in the woods, the least he could do was apologize for looking at you in such an inappropriate way.

"When was the last time you saw a naked woman?"

Your question caught him off guard. Joel shook his head and took his eyes off you, knowing beforehand what you were about to do. The bathrobe slipped off your shoulders and Joel closed his eyes, not even daring to look at your reflection in the mirror. You couldn't be doing this to him, he was not like the boys you'd been hanging out in Jackson.

"Look at me."

He shook his head. You told him again and this time his eyes laid on yours. You flashed him a smile, how innocent sweet Joel.

"I want you to look at my body, Joel."

Joel called your name, shaking his head again and swallowing nervously.

"I know you want to do it, I saw how you looked at me before. I want you too, but this isn't going to work if you can't even look at me."

His eyes shyly moved from yours to your breasts. He took a glance and closed his eyes. You smiled victorious. You guided one of his hands to caress one side of your body. Joel dared to look at the path his hand was making through your body, how soft the skin of your waist felt against his rough fingers.

You led his hand to cup one of your tits. Your nipple immediately became hard on contact with his palm and your pussy was already clenching around nothing. You'd dreamed so many times about how would his touch feel, and he was barely applying any pressure, nor squeezing it or pinching your nipple, he was just holding your tit in his hand.

Your hand pinched his chin and made him look up at you. His eyes were bright, darker than you'd ever seen them before, and his pupils were big. You fluttered your lashes, inocently and your thumb caressed his lips. You came close enough to his mouth for your breaths to become one, you could feel his beard tickling your lips. You ran your tongue over his lips and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips were so soft and gentle against yours compared to the thick hair of his beard.

You pushed his shoulders and made him sit on the toilet again. His cock was so hard and ready for you, already leaking precum against the fabric of his underwear. He was still unsure about this, not because he didn't want to do it but because you were so beautiful and he was an old man that doubled your age, and his cock was so hard and already throbbing against his stomach, it was almost embarrassing.

Joel put both of his hands on your hips when you placed one of your legs on each side of his body. You wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, giving it a couple of strokes and getting multiple groans from him. You could feel him twitching between your fingers. He was big, some black hairs like the ones on his head decorated the base of his cock and a prominent vein ran down its length, but the most important thing was, that he was thick. You could barely take it all in one hand, and you knew the stretch was going to be perfect.

You lined up his cock at your entrance, allowing only his tip to go inside you, and then you gently lowered yourself. One of your hands moved down to your clit and rub it to get used to the sensation of Joel filling you. He gave you all the time you needed but you were tight and he could feel his cock jumping inside you. Every time your fingers rubbed your clit your cunt clenched and squeezed him even harder.

"You good?" Joel asked, caressing one of your cheeks with the back of his hand. You nodded. "You sure? Oh, fuck-" He moaned when you started rolling your hips against his. Your movements were very delicate as your fingers continued working on your bundle of nerves, helping you to get even wetter and making it easy for you to take him. Joel could feel you dripping down the inside of his legs.

"Yeah, that's a good girl, fuck-" His eyes were locked on where you two connected although he could only see how his cock had completely disappeared inside your pussy. He was enjoying the way your tiny fingers played with your clit.

"Still good?" He asked again and you nodded. You suddenly stopped the movement of your hips against his and he was afraid that you'd hurt yourself. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, getting a firm grip there to help you lift your hips from his lap. You pulled him out of you, his cock glistening with your juices, and then you dropped yourself back down onto his cock.

A sharp moan came out of Joel's throat and his fingers sank into the flesh of your ass. You repeated that again and again, finally getting used to Joel's width and to the sting of him going inside you deeper and deeper each time. Your hands moved from his shoulder to his face, cupping both of his cheeks and guiding his lips to yours, the sounds that escaped your mouths became one. His hands massaged your breasts shamelessly this time, his palms rubbed your nipples while you leaned your head back, giving him perfect access to your neck.

"I can't- I can't anymore." You cried out, your movements becoming more and more sloppy.

"It's okay. You did well." He gasped, his hands on your hips slowly guiding your movements, giving you enough time to recompose. Joel helped you to wrap your legs around his body, so that when he stood up from the toilet, he could move you with him, his dick still balls deep inside you.

Joel sat you on the sink and he splayed your legs completely open. You sat up on your elbows, looking through your eyelashes as he was admiring how your pussy sucked him. His dick slid inside you easily, his thrusts were stronger than you thought they would be and they made your whole body shake with them. Your throat felt dry and the burn in the pit of your stomach felt warmer and warmer. You dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him to you, chest to chest.

Your hips rolled involuntarily against his, and you nodded to everything he muttered at you through gritted teeth. Yes, you were a good girl. Yes, you were his good girl. Yes, your pussy belonged to him. Yes, you were about to cum. Yes, you wanted his cum, and yes, you wanted it inside. And who was he to deny you your wishes? With a groan coming straight from his chest and your legs shaking and closing around his body, you both came seconds apart.

Joel stayed inside you, his head resting on your shoulder as you played with the hair on the back of his neck. You giggled. "Look at the shy one."

[darknight3904]

See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

Next Part

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[linkspooky]

If there's a next time, maybe I'll change how I live...

Sukuna's last moment in the manga ends with him accepting that his loss, and showing even the strongest of all time Sukuna, someone powerful enough to do what he wants, when he wants, could not only lose but he could be wrong. This is something considering that you could make an argument that the entire manga, and sorcerer society as a whole is shaped around Sukuna's morality of the pursuit of selfish desire and strength of all else. In fact someone else argues it right here.

What led to this journey of the most irredeemable character in the comics who lived only for selfish pleasure acknowledging the love he rejected in the end? Well, we'll cover that under the cut.

The Cycle

Before analyzing Shinjuku as a whole, I want to start with its conclusion. I'll first break down the final moment in Sukuna's character arc, and then go back to the start and analyze how we got there. That being said, let's get on with it.

Sukuna loss begins with him contradicting his own nature. I'll explain what I mean by this. If you read the thread above, detective_critics observes characters like Sukuna who live for themselves and characters who embody Sukuna's ideals like Gojo are rewarded in the manga whereas characters like Yuji who fight primarily for others are punished relentlessly.

This is well supported by Yuji's continual losses throughout the manga. Yuji swallows Sukuna's fingers in order to permanently execute Sukuna and stop future people from being harmed by curses, but because of Yuji's decision to swallow the finger thousands die in Shibuya. Yuji's desire to save others only seems to backfire and he's continually presented with those he can't save, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara. He's even robbed of his own purpose of being Sukuna's vessel when Sukuna takes Megumi's body instead.

I mostly agree with this idea that the manga rewards people more true to their desires like Sukuna and Gojo, but I'd like to add an addendum that the manga doesn't specifically reward selfishness, but rather self-actualization.

To backtrack slightly, Sukuna observes that many sorcerers in the past have faced him but they didn't truly believe in their ideals the way that Yuji did. Yuji is punished by the narrative yes, but he's not unceremoniously killed off the way that Toji, and Mahito are. Rather, Yuji's durability, his ability to cling to life instead of just dying off like Sukuna suggests weak people should do comes from the fact that his ideal is unshakable.

Let's look at Sukuna's words a little more closely. He says that many sorcerers killed him in the past and they all had different ideals, but none of them truly believed in their ideals. Because Sukuna could so easily point out how their idealism was false he came to think of all ideals as worthless. This is shown in the way that he easily picks apart both Gojo and Hajime, two characters who lose because they ultimately don't believe in their own ideals. Sukuna is very easily able to point out the hypocrisy in both of them.

Sukuna basically points out that Kashimo and Gojo were both happy to bully anyone who came near them, they'll throw around their power all they like and revel in their own superiority and then go back and complain about being lonely. A classic case of wanting to have your cake and eat it too, or as Sukuna said they were being greedy. They were the ones who rejected everyone around them, they were the ones who rejected the love they were shown, and yet they put the blame on everyone else.

Gojo even in death acts like everyone else is a flower, an inferior being incapable of understanding him. Yet, a few panels later he says that the fight with Sukuna the only person who rivaled him in strength and therefore shouldn't be able to understand him didn't satisfy him, and he would only have been satisfied if Geto were there.

These two statements contradict each other. The thing is, Gojo has at this point long surpassed Geto in strength. People often clown Geto on the fact that he never had a domain expansion, and that Kenjaku seemed to use his cursed technique far better than he ever could. Geto is someone who's far behind Gojo in strength, and yet he's the one who could satisfiy Gojo, not Sukuna. Which means Gojo was the one who was wrong. Gojo was betraying his ideals. He believed he was living to be the strongest, that he was satisfied being the strongest while all along wanting something else and it's that contradiction that killed him.

Let me make a brief comparison to another manga. Aizen from Bleach is a character with a god complex to rival Gojo's, and just like Gojo exists on a different level of power than everyone else. He is not only the strongest soul reaper, but one of the smartest, and has been isolated by that strength since he was a child. Aizen then believes that he needs to become god, because it's his right as a naturally superior being, but Aizen is a fraud.

Aizen loses becuase the hogyoku the source of his power rejected him right as he seemed to be at the peak of his power. However, Ichigo reflects that maybe the Hogyoku didn't reject him. The Hogyoku is in plot, a wish granting macguffin, that grants your subconscious desire. Ichigo speculates that maybe Aizen didn't truly want to ascend to godhood, but rather he wanted someone like Ichigo to defeat him. That he wanted an equal like Ichigo so he wouldn't have to be alone on the top anymore. Aizen not being fully aware of this desire and clinging to his sense of superiority instead, the very thing that makes him lonely is what causes him to lose. Aizen is cut down by Ichigo, and instead of becoming a god he becomes just another soul reaper.

Sukuna cuts through Gojo by cutting through the world, bypassing the infinity, and therefore making him just like everyone else. Just as Aizen wished to be just another soul reaper, Gojo becomes just another sorcerer now that his position of the strongest has been taken by Sukuna.

So Gojo's loss came when he betrayed his ideals. His stated ideal of "I am the strongest", but this was contradicted by what he really wanted which was the time of his life when him and Geto together said "We are the Strongest." Strength didn't satisfy him, but rather it was Geto and Gojo's inability to realize the real reason he was fighting leads to his loss.

The manga doesn't reward selfishness, but rather self-actualization. Characters with a strong sense of self are just more likely to be self-actualized, because they possess a deep sense of self awareness.

Sukuna at least is self-aware. He knows you can't be the strongest, to relentlessly bully others with your power and yet want to be close to other people too. He knows that's wanting to have your cake and eat it too, so he rejects love. Sukuna knows you can't have it both ways, so he decides I don't need love, love won't satisfy me, I'll live only to be the strongest.

My main example of a character betraying their ideals is Toji though.

Toji moves to face a newly awakened Gojo. He has not only a solid plan to fight him, curse tools that can penetrate his infinity, but he's also got inside knowledge of the Limitless. Toji believes he can win, and yet at the same time he feels uneasy.

As he died, Toji reflects that the reason he died is because he deviated from his true self. He believed that he was jumping from job to job, just working for money. That he didn't care about the sorcerer world. He killed sorcerers, got paid, and then gambled it all away.

Yet, when he was faced with the pinnacle of Jujutsu his motivation changed from living to fulfill his own selfish desires, to revenge. Toji wasn't as over the way the Zen'in Clan rejected him as he thought he was. He needed to defeat Gojo in order to affirm himself, and the moment he betrayed his own ideals like that he lost.

Now this moment can be directly paralleled back to Sukuna, who feels a similiar unease the entire time that he's fighting Yuji, an unease that makes him more and more irrational over the course of the fight.

Sukuna betrays his ideals in two ways, one that he's never once cared what other sorcerers think and say and lives only for himself and two that he is merely killing time before he dies. The first leads to his breakdown over the fight as he tries to crush Yuji, but finds himself unable to. The second is as I said above the final nail in the coffin.

When faced with a stronger opponent, or rather opponents as the sorcerers of the modern era all work together to trump the sorcerer of the golden age of sorcerery Sukuna doesn't accept his death. In his last moments he's clinging desperately to Megumi, trying to keep living in his body. At which point Megumi remarks that even someone like Sukuna must fear death too.

You could connect this to Mahito too. Many people even said that Sukuna got the Mahito treatment. Both characters lived freely slaughtering everyone else, and yet when they are about to be killed they try and run away from it. This is obviously deliberate as not only do the words "You are Me' parallel "I am you" but Sukuna's last moment in the manga is a conversation with Mahito.

Mahito also betrayed his ideal. Number one curses don't truly die, Jogo and Hanami and Dagan all accept their deaths because they'll be reborn as different curses but they'll always come back. However, Mahito clings to his own existence. Mahito is also not true to his nature, because he longs to be a true curse, but Mahito is also the most human curse. He's the representative of the fear and hate humans have for one another, and he spends his last moments terrified of the human being known as Yuji Itadori.

Which is why Mahito is appropriate to have this final conversation with Sukuna. Mahito calls out the way Sukuna betrayed his ideals. Sukuna always believed he was only living to satisfy himself and he didn't care what others thought, but Mahito points out that he was really living for revenge towards the people who rejected that unlovable wretch. Sukuna wasn't rejecting people because he was a god towering far above others, but because he had been rejected and hated in the past and then decided to hate them in turn.

However, unlike Mahito Sukuna is able to grow up so to speak. Mahito doesn't want to be anything else but Sukuna comes to the realization that you can choose your nature. That the decision to hate and reject everyone was a choice, and that he can choose a different path in another life.

You define who you are, that is the literal definition of self actualization. So we see Sukuna having become enlightened about himself escape the cycle, whereas Mahito who's still a curse is still trapped in that cycle. Something that Mahito complains about, that he's just a child unable to grow up while even Sukuna has changed.

Escaping the Cycle

Now that I've shown you how Sukuna has changed, I'm going to go over all of Shinjuku to describe the events that led to this change. This change is brought about everyone, but most of all by Yuji Itadori someone who unlike Sukuna reached self-realization. Yuji is the one who remains true to himself, whereas Sukuna who has only lived for himself is the one who betrays himsellf in the end.

The first hint that Sukuna may not entirely believe his own words comes in his conversation with Kashimo. Sukuna lives for his own self-satisfaction, other people exist for him to amuse himself until he dies. Since he's a complete being who doesn't need anyone else to satisfy him, since he's satisfied then why did he need to divide himself into twenty parts and keep living after death.

Sukuna doesn't answer this quesiton, but rather just continues on with his monologue. If life to Sukuna is just killing time until he dies then why does he go above and beyond to prolong his life? Why not accept his natural death?

Then after quickly dispatching Higuruma, Sukuna finds himself unsatisfied. Even though he was doing exactly what Kashimo told him, he was tasting an interesting sorcerer and swallowing him whole.

Sukuna doesn't feel satisfied in his victory. At first he thinks it's just because Higuruma lost too early, and then he realizes that his current disatisfaction comes from Yuji. Sukuna doesn't care what others think, he hates the concept of ideals themselves, at yet the same time Yuji holding an unbreakable ideal bothers him. If Sukuna is being true to himself, then he shouldn't care what Yuji believes in.

Yet, Sukuna changes for the first time in a thousand years. He acquires a new ideal and that's killing every sorcerer present and then initating the merger. Something that Kusakabe even notes is out of character for Sukuna. He thought Sukuna wouldn't have a need to start the merger, he doesn't care about big picture things like Kenjaku he just wants to strong opponent.

Sukuna begins to drift further and further from his nature because of Yuji over the course of the fight. As I said Sukuna shouldn't have to fight Yuji to prove that Yuji's ideal is wrong. If he rejects all ideologies then he shouldn't even care. Yet the things that set Sukuna off the most in the fight, the things that motivate him to fight the hardest to crush his enemy are people like Yuji and Maki who challenge his beliefs. Yuji by fighting for others instead of himself, and Maki by rejecting cursed energy entirely and instead having a strong body to fight.

Sukuna who is supposed to be completely satisfied with himself, has something to prove when fighting against these opponents. We learn that Yuji isn't just some boring child like Sukuna suggested. He's actually made from the other half of Sukuna's soul. Rather, Sukuna rejected his twin and ate him in the womb. All of his superiority as a sorcerer, his four arms, the mouth on his stomach comes from this. However, that twin didn't disappear, he reincarnated and mated with Kenjaku to produce Yuji.

So Sukuna is Yuji's uncle technically, but symbolically, Yuji is the other half of his soul. The half that Sukuna rejected. How can Sukuna be someone at peace with all of himself, if he rejects half of himself? It goes along with what Mahito said, Sukuna didn't reject others because he was compeltely satisfied with living alone, but because of revenge. He was born a malformed retch and never shown love so he rejected all forms of love.

Sukuna is not at ease with himself because he's not whole. Yuji represents the love that Sukuna rejectected. Rejecting yourself doesn't work though, because one he tried to reject his twin and his twin's soul reincarnted, and two rejecting yourself is completely at odds with the complete self-acceptance that Sukuna preaches is the source of his strength.

Sukuna's incessant need to reject Yuji, to prove that Yuji is wrong, that he's inferior is what leads to his demise. Not only that, but Sukuna's rejection of Yuji's method of fighting, relying on his allies leaves him blind to several elements of Yuta's strategy. He falls for the copy technique bluff twice, because Sukuna didn't factor that both the original users Angel and Toge could still use their techniques too. He's beaten by the cooperation that Yuta uses in his strategy, because Sukuna rejects that same kind of cooperation and sees it as a weakness.

Sukuna's proven to be wrong. He told Jogo that working with others limits your individual strength and he should have tried fighting on his own, but Sukuna is continually outfoxed by Yuta's strategy which relies entirely on team coordination.

It's also a direct parallel to the way that Gojo lost in Shibuya. Gojo was absolutely infuriated that the curses would work together to fight him and they'd rely on a strategy instead of just overpowering him with brute strength. But Gojo lost, precisely because they made a strategy around Gojo's exact weakness, that he's strongest when he's alone.

If Sukuna didn't feel the need to reject the others, then he wouldn't be so blind to Yuta's way of fighting with strategy and cooperation. If he could accept other ways of thinking other than his own he wouldn't have been hoodwinked multiple times in the fight. Yet, it isn't just Sukuna rejecting them on principle, he has to reject companionship otherwise the curses and hatred churning inside of him would burn him up inside. So Sukuna isn't really choosing his nature as he believes, but rather he's a slave to it.

There's also parts where Sukuna just straight up lies. He says he feels nothing, and yet two panels later he's completely enraged.

You could say that Sukuna is just saying he feels nothing about Yuji's attempts to empathize with him, but that's not the case. He definitely feels something, because that empathy, or rather pity as Sukuna frames it compeltely infuriates him.

if Sukuna lived entirely according to his own desires and didn't care about the opinions of others, as he stated a hundred times above why does Yuji's pity infuriate him? If he was so confident in his godlike superiority to others, why does he feel the need to prove it, by ripping apart all of Yuji's friends right in front of it in a gesture of revenge for being pitied.

This leads to what is the greatest moment of growth for Yuji, and the greatest moment of stagnation for Sukuna. Yuji's moment of growth isn't just in rejecting the cog mentality, but also in accepting Megumi. Specifically, he accepts the fact that Megumi is different than him, that it's alright if Megumi's not strong enough to keep living.

Sukuna is compelled by his own nature, his desire for revenge to reject everything around him, but the conclusion of Yuji's character arc is defined by acceptance. Not only does he accept that Megumi's own feelings are different than his, but he's willing to accept Sukuna back into his soul.

I don't think Yuji empathizes with Sukuna. He still doesn't understand him. However, in spite of that lack of understanding, he's willing to accept Sukuna into his soul and keep living with him, because as I said above Yuji and Sukuna are two halves of the same soul. Sukuna is the embodiment of everything he hates, someone who carelessly disregards life and hurts others with a thought, and yet Yuji is willing to give a second chance to that person.

In that moment Yuji lives true to his ideal of saving people, whereas by clinging to life Sukuna was betraying his ideal. I think it's important that Yuji didn't empathize with Sukuna though because Yuji and Sukuna might be two halves but they're meant to represent opposites.

Sukuna also had to learn to accept that Yuji was different than him. He spent the entire story trying to reject him and step on him like a bug. If Sukuna were truly confident in his ideals he wouldn't care that other people had different thoughts, but no Yuji had to be wrong.

Yuji doesn't empathize with Sukuna but he does change him. He alters Sukuna's fundamental nature "You are me" by showing Sukuna there was a different path he could have taken all along. That Sukuna wasn't the strongest he could be, that someone could have compeltely different ideals and be stronger.

Uraume says that the main characters didn't win because they were stronger, but because Sukuna was in Megumi's body a thousand years later instead of his own original body. Which basically means that Sukuna being a parasite in the modern era, pointlessly extending his life is exactly what led to his defeat because he couldn't accept his own death.

I think it's significant that it's not Yorozu or Yuji who Sukuna finally decides to accept as someone he can love, but Uraume. Sukuna even references there were people who tried to teach him about love in life. Assuming the one on the right in Yorozu, the way both uraume and Yorozu approach their relationship with Sukuna is compelte opposites.

Yorozu in the end seemed to recognize Sukuna's isolation, but she projected her desires onto him entirely like everyone else in the manga. Yorozu, Gojo, Kashimo, they don't seek to understand Sukuna but rather to make him understand then. They're in the end kind of self-serving in their love, making Sukuna into a symbol. Specifically Gojo and Kashimo project their loneliness onto Sukuna when Sukuna never asked for it. I mean if you want an example Gojo says this in his dying dream.

Yet, moments later Sukuna declares that Gojo Satoru cleared his skies. That he would never forget his name. Sukuna was completely satisfied with the fight, Gojo just didn't understand him.

Ironically, the one who Sukuna finally shows love to is the one who never bothered to try teaching love to Sukuna in the first place. Ura Ume spends the entire time at Sukuna's side, and while they seem to have more of a servant master relationship I'd argue that Ura Ume has a better read on Sukuna than anyone else. They can tell when Sukuna is enjoying himself, they can tell when Sukuna is holding back, they don't ever try to make Sukuna into something he's not they just stay by his side and accept them.

Sukuna's final scene in the manga is a deliberate callback to this scene. Jogo begins to cry and Sukuna says he doesn't undertand the reason why Jogo is crying. Immediately afterwards, UraUme appears in front of him.

Then, in their final scene together Sukuna is shown musing on how two people showed him there were different ways of living, Uraume and Yorozu. As he decides to go north, and become someone new as Mei Mei once put it in the going north and going south metaphor, he holds Ura Ume's hand and comforts him as he cries.

There are two people in the manga who showed Sukuna unconditional acceptance, Yuji and Uraume. Through them Sukuna was finally able to accept his own humanity.

So in conclusion: Sukume canon!

[jiyansthesis]

HEAD SO GOOD SHE HONOR ROLL

summary ー gallagher wasn't stupidー no matter what secret you were trying to keep from him, he was always going to find out.

note ー yeayea ik i have reqs to get to but gallagher has been on mind all damn day and i need him TO LEAVE!! might be ooc tbh but he's not even released yet sooo i DO WHAT I WANT!!! || this is fem reader!! + i lowkey hate this

w/c ー 2.4k

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION | NOT PROOFREAD

"d'ya want this drink or not, doll?" gallagher held a glass in front of your face, light pink liquid sloshing over the edges. "you've been out of it lately."

"i've been perfectly fine." you rolled your eyes, snatching the drink away from him before he made the puddle on the counter larger.

alrightー maybe he was catching on. this was one of the few days where you had gallagher all to yourselfー and you were definitely enjoying it. could anyone really blame you for eyeing the way his buttons could barely hold his shirt together over his chest, how he towered over you, or the way he'd open a can with one finger? every single thing about him had you going rabid internally, but one thing in particular had stuck with you and ravaged your thoughts.

his hands.

they were always covered with glovesー mismatchedー and you'd be lying if you said they didn't distract you every time they were in your line of sight. you hadn't told him about your infatuation with them, knowing that he would make fun of you and tease you any chance he gets. so you decided that you'd keep it your little secret for your sake.

gallagher gave you a knowing glance as you took a sip of the concoction he made for you. "you're a terrible liar, y'know?"

"what would i even be lying about?" you scoffed.

"for one, you were staring at me like you could see through my clothes," he leaned over the counter, close enough that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. "and two, you got a little bit of drool coming out of your mouth."

his thumb shot out, ghosting the side of your lips. you felt your whole body heat up at the proximity and the feeling of his calloused hand cradling your face.

"it's not even drool!" you furrowed your eyebrows, pulling away with your arms crossed, earning a raspy chuckle.

"so you're not admiring how hot your dazzling boyfriend is? harsh blow," he playfully frowned, holding a hand over his heart. he will never truly get over how fun it is to make you embarrassed and watch as you would bury your face into your arms.

"you'd be hotter if you'd shut you mouth for once." you downed the rest of your drink in one go and shot up from your stool, not wanting to give him another reason to taunt you.

you could hear him trailing behind you to the living room, his belt clinking as the canteen nestled at the side of his thigh garter slapped against it with every step he took.

"not even gonna tell me if my drink was good or not?" gallagher tilted his head like a pleading puppy as you collapsed on the couch.

"it was good." you shrugged, focusing on finding the remote that must've fell into the depths of the sofa.

he sat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh as he loosened his tie with the other. if this wasn't some intricate ploy to seduce you, you didn't know what else.

"just good, hm?"

"do you want me to give you an expert's opinion?" you sighed in exasperation, turning towards him to only be met with an amused look etched on his face.

"when'd you get so sassyー do i really distract you that much?" he smirked as your eyes widened. he had noticed the way your legs pressed together as grasped at the skin, and he was going to make sure that your prissy attitude was going to stop right here and now.

"you're in for a surprise if you think you're distracting me-"

his hand slowly made its way up to the apex of your thighs, the feathery touch and anticipation sending shivers down your spine. "i'm not distracting you? then you'll be fine not paying attention to anything i'm doing, right doll?"

you were conflicted as you mulled over the consequences of telling him and not spilling your secrets. either he'll leave you high and dry, laughing in your face as you beg for more, or he'll reward youー with the downside of endless teasing right after.

well, future you can always worry about that.

you gripped his wrist, trying to guide him closer to where his hand was inevitably going to end upー if you played your cards right.

"i'm not going any further until you tell me what that pretty little brain of yours was thinking about," he shook his head, your strength not even moving him an inch. he began to trace incomprehensible symbols onto your knee, every stroke feeling like he left behind a burning trail on your flesh.

"can't resist someone like you," you half-joked, hoping that he would accept it and move on already. instead, his eyes narrowed, and he withdrew his hand.

"you gonna tell me the actual truth?" he raised an eyebrow as you whined at the loss of contact. the sound made him subconsciously perk up, but he restrained himself from acting on his desires.

"but it's embarrassingggg," you drawled, pouting as if that would push him over the edge and forget the reason why he was practically edging you. you'd have to applaud him on his self-control thoughー the bulge in his pants was becoming increasingly noticeable.

"so embarrassing you can't even tell your boyfriend? what can be worse than that time you said you got off to my damn voice?"

you knew that ever since you confessed that to him, his ego has been blown out of the water. and you'd be damned if you were going to give him another thing to boost it.

but the uncomfortable heat between your legs was becoming unbearable as you thought about what you could have if you just told him this one little secret.

"well. . ." you trailed off. it wasn't like it was taboo or anything, but it made you irrationally sheepish. "i think your hands areー attractive."

he burst out laughing, running a hand through his silky hair in disbelief. "that was what you were hiding from me? a damn hand kink? you think about my hands when you're riding that pillow of yours?"

you shushed him, scowling at the accusation, but also not denying it. "this is why i wasn't going to tell your ass."

"i hope this makes up for it then."

his scruff tickled at your collarbones as he nibbled at your neck, leaving behind blossoms of purple and red. the tiny gaps and pants that escaped your lips weren't enough for himー he wanted you screaming.

"gal- what are you doing?"

he simply hummed in response, continuing his assault. his gloves were rough as his fingers trailed under your shirt, skimming your nipples, before retracting his touch quickly to rest his hands at your hips to pull you in.

"wanna do me a favor, pretty girl?" his voice seemed even more coarse and rugged than before as he admired his work. you were going to hate hiding these hickeys for the next few days.

you nodded without hesitation, curious to what he was going to ask you to do. in one swift move, he unbuckled his belt and garter, discarding them to the side as he unzipped his pants. his shirt rose up a little, revealing his light happy trail and v-lineー you swore your mouth watered a little.

"g'na keep staring?" he began to unbutton his shirt, the sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows straining against his muscles. you swiftly pulled his pants down, noticing the wet spot on his boxers.

you've done this multiple times before, but every time you released his cock from its confines you still managed to be amazed and in shock.

the head was red and dripping with precum as you rubbed it before slipping it into your mouth without warning. his hips jolted, pushing his dick further into your mouth and causing tears to prick at the sides of your eyes.

"yeahー just like that," gallagher threw his head back against the cushions, adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to keep his composureー which was hanging on by a thread. it was impossible for him to try not to just grip your hair and push your head all the way down.

spit oozed out the sides of your mouth as you gagged, mixing in with his fluids. the messy sight of it had him groaningー what he would give to take a picture of you right now.

"so pretty like this-" he began babbling off compliments, not able to make a coherent sentence.

"mm- f-fuck, i'm so sorry about this, doll." before you could even question why he was apologizing, his fingers intertwined with strands of your hair as he began holding you down all the way to the base of his cock. you made a noise of surprise as you felt cum shoot into your mouth, the hot liquid shocking you for a moment before you attempted to swallow. he released his grip, letting you lift yourself up and you could see the mirth in his gaze as his cum leaked out your mouth and dribbled down your chin.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you wipe the cum off your face with the back of your hand.

"you're just too fucking good at it, sweetheart," his chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath.

gallagher pulled off his gloves with his teeth, keeping his gaze locked on yours in those few torturously long seconds it took.

he moved you so you were hovering over one of his thighs, arms resting on his shoulders as he lifted up your skirt.

"you're fucking soaked," he grinned as he expertly removed your panties, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

"yeah, yeahー just hurry up," you whined. his fingers gathered up your arousal and held it up to the dim light to see how it glimmeredー gallagher was going to be the death of you.

"c'monnn. . ." you were clenching over nothing, and he could see that.

"not even a please?"

"pleaseeeee," you pleaded, any self-respect gone in your desperate attempt to be filled up.

"just cause you asked so nicely," he slipped two fingers in easilyー he wasn't lying about you being soaked.

your rocked back and forth on the palm of his hand, drenching it with your slick as he rapidly thrust his fingers knuckles deep into your sopping cunt. every time he would curl his fingers and brush up against that certain gummy spot in you, you swore you saw stars.

"keep making those cute noises for me, yeah? s' fucking good for me, princess." he practically growled into your ear, the harsh noise making your walls clench around his fingers. he could probably get off on just the sight of you aloneー but he was adamant that he was going to come in you.

the building pressure in your stomach felt more intense than it had ever been, and you clawed at his arms as your mouth gaped open.

"m' gonnaー sirー" the name came out on accident, and if you weren't so close to climaxing you would've bothered to save yourself.

"sir?" his lips turned upward. "that's new."

"shut- haah-" your weak attempt to snap back was broken by you creaming around his fingers pathetically, trembling.

"that's itー being so good for me." he slowed down his pace until he eventually slid his fingers out, still connected to your pussy by thin and gleaming trails of your fluids. you slumped on him, jerking when you felt his dick rub up against your abused pussy.

"ya' got one more left in you, doll?"

you nod, not actually sure yourself. but you wouldn't pass up a moment have him inside of you.

he easily lifted you up, practically manhandling you as he laid you on the couch and angled himself on top of you. you practically sucked him in as his head tapped at your entrance.

"even this pussy of yours can't be patient," he didn't wait for your response as he abruptly plunged into your walls. it was so unexpected it had you digging crescents into his back, so deep you know it was going to leave scars. maybe they'll match with the ones that adorned his arms.

"wanna hear you call me sir again. say it." he nearly pulled all the way out, earning a cry of dejection out from you.

"sirー sir, please. . . i need more." you threw a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the noisesー which he instead replaced with his lips, swallowing all the sounds you made. the lewd squelches echoing throughout the room would've made you blush in any other situation.

gallagher always prided himself that he could make you go dumb and stupid on his big cockー but the fact you'll say whatever he wants? he's whipped.

"such a fuckin' slut for me, hmm? getting wet over my hands and never paying attention." he broke the kiss, immediately going back to praising and degrading you. you couldn't even process a single thing he was saying, but the mocking tone he used made your walls flutter.

"jus' for you," you rambled, chanting out little 'sir's with every heaving shove of his cock deeper into you. he wasn't above average in girth, but he could easily kiss your cervix and see a little tummy bulge that had him cooing.

when he pressed down on your lower stomach, the pleasure practically became unendurable. without warning and a choked moan that bordered a scream, you squirted, the liquid making it all the way to his abs, it slowly dripping down the crevices.

gallagher simply sped up, chasing after his own high as you squirmed at the overstimulation.

"s' too much! please, please-"

"a lil' bit more, pretty girl. ya' feel so good." he reassured you, burying his head in the nape of your neck.

he let out a long groan, your only warning that he was close. you saw his abs tense as he did one final push into you, his arms giving out as he collapsed on top of you.

minutes passed as the two of you calmed, until gallagher let out a little laugh.

"sir? hand kink?"

"i will bite your dick off."

i did not eat this up i fear

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au)

summary: with the help of her soon-to-be husband, alyssa discovers a secret about her mother.

warnings: for better understanding you should read the how I met your brother oneshot. pure fluff honestly

author's note: based off this ask i received A LONG TIME AGO OMG IT HAS BEEN YEARS 😭 i hope u can still read this, nonnie... this is really short sorry but i really like it and i hope y'all enjoy.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

In the expansive library of the Red Keep, the soft glow of candlelight danced across the rows of ancient books and scrolls. Alyssa Targaryen sat at a large wooden table, her silver hair arranged neatly as she pored over an old, leather-bound tome. Beside her, Prince Aemond Targaryen, her soon-to-be husband, flipped through a stack of documents with focused interest.

Alyssa had been intrigued by the history of House Martell for some time. Today, she was deep into a volume detailing the lineage and achievements of Dorne’s great families. Her lilac eyes scanned the pages with a growing sense of curiosity.

A couple days before that moment, her brother Maegon was telling her story their uncle and father had told him, about the day their father, Daemon, had met their mother, Lady Y/N. A fun fact about the story that her brother relates, is that old and sick Viserys, shares some hints on the dornish heritage of the Lad-, no, Princess Y/N. Daughter to Qoren Martell, the Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear, something that neither Alyssa or her brothers had knowledge of.

She knew better than to question her mother about that. And when she tried to talk to her dad about it, he had dismissed her saying that she should be asking Y/N.

Now, the bookworm couple were trying to find some vestige of Y/N's heritage and family history in some of the scrolls and books at the grand library.

“Aemond,” Alyssa said suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet, “look at this.”

Prince Aemond looked up from his reading, his lavander eye curious. “What is it, Alyssa?”

"I think I've found something," Alyssa’s fingers traced a family tree she had uncovered in the book. “this here—Nymeria, the Rhoynar Princess. And look, her descendants...”

Aemond leaned closer, his interest piqued.

Alyssa’s gaze was fixed on the page, her voice trembling slightly with excitement. “I’ve been following the lineage, and as Nymeria’s bloodline continues through House Martell, look–”

Her finger moved further down the tree, connecting to her mother's name, under Qoren Martell's, the Prince of Dorne. “This is my mother’s father... Maegon wasn't lying, she truly is a dornish princess!”

Alyssa frowns, trying to understand why anyone had never mentioned that fact to her or her brothers before, or why didn't her mother went by the "princess" title anymore.

Aemond looked at her with a mixture of surprise and understanding. “It appears so. You’ve uncovered a significant piece of your heritage.”

"Why would they cover this from us? From me? She..." Alyssa chuckled, remembering her childhood, "My mother knew how much I used to admire Queen Visenya when I was younger, and how I wanted to be a warrior like her. And now... I discover I'm a descendant to Nymeria Martell. I'm connected to her legacy."

Alyssa’s expression was a mix of awe and determination.

Aemond reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, caressing her skin with his thumb. “And you are right to be proud. Nymeria was a great leader and warrior. I could say you are the best of both worlds, my sweet.”

Alyssa’s eyes sparkled with a new sense of purpose. "This knowledge... it gives me the strength to forge my own path. I want to do something great, Aemond. I want to be someone known..." she murmured, looking up to her betrothed's orbits.

As they continued to study the ancient texts, Aemond could see the resolve in Alyssa’s eyes. He knew that this newfound knowledge would empower her in ways he had not yet fully understood.

“Perhaps,” Aemond suggested thoughtfully, “we should learn more about the Martell history together. There’s much we can draw from it. Maybe one day we could visit the place so you could meet your grandsire.”

Alyssa grinned to his thoughtful proposal, but snickered humorously “And we'd fly to Dorne? Perhaps we could spend some time there after our wedding. I think they wouldn't mind seeing Vhagar again.” She joked as they both laughed.

As they continued their research, the bond between them deepened, strengthened by their shared pursuit of knowledge and the powerful heritage that now united them. In the quiet of the library, Alyssa and Aemond found not just historical connections but a profound sense of purpose and partnership, ready to face the future together.

[aesterblaster]

Sleepin Demons

How Blue Lock characters wake up from nightmares/How you can comfort them [Gender neutral reader]

Tropes: Reverse Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Established Relationship, and general warnings for some gore and mentions of flashbacks along with implied sexual harassment

Characters: Almost All Of Them Lol

Songs: Insecure - Bren Joy // Coffee for Dinner - Orion Sun // Broken Clocks - SZA

The Silent Type + Actual Memories

It's the same one again. He's right back where he started. Unloved, unknown, left out of everything. The pangs of hunger run through him like a freight train as he desperately runs from room to room in his childhood home...But there's no nourishment. Someone calls his name but all he feels is fear at being recognized, he cowers as a figure rounds the corner and says his name again. "You think you could get away from me? Huh?" It could be anyone, a parent, someone he used to owe money to, an old abusive coach, all he knows is what comes next is going to hurt. "Are you fucking crying? You're so pathetic, soon everyone else will see that just like I always have!" The floor begins to sag and give way, everything creases in on itself. His brain feels like it's going to explode.

When he wakes up- his brain still feels as if it's too big for his skull, pushing against the edges like it's trying to find its way out. But he doesn't groan in pain, and he doesn't move. You're next to him after all, breathing softly. The moonlight grounds him, your hand against his side grounds him, he is safe now. The best thing you can do is stay asleep. He isn't ready to talk and admit that he's weak (or even worse...the fact that it is okay to be weak sometimes), not yet. For now he just snuggles against you and quietly brushes away any residual tears, thanking everything he believes in that he's here with you now.

Kaiser, Hiori, Naruhaya, Noa, Lorenzo

The Silent Type + More Abstract Fears

Slow. Everything was moving so fucking slow around him. His body was falling apart. Every sinew, every cell, every fucking atom of his being was breaking down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Was this what he was truly destined for, dust to dust? Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, everything was calm. He was dying, so what? Every star burns out. And then, as sharp as a clap of thunder, the pain arrived. In his heart, not his body. Images of friends, family, trophies, all the things he hadn't done yet and you surged through his head. No, he couldn't die, not yet! He gripped his arm, but it was already turning to dust. Irrelevant and forgotten.

He's almost surprised when he wakes up, remembers that that would be impossible. Wants to scoff at himself for being afraid of something that could never happen. But the truth is, he is going to die someday, no matter how big of a star he is. He watches you twitch in your sleep, obviously disturbed by how he jerked awake, and curls his arms around you. He presses his face to the top of your head and breathes you in, silently begging you to drift back into a deeper sleep. He just needs to savor every moment with you and stop worrying, he tells himself.

Snuffy, Nagi, Ego, Aryu, Reo, Kuon, Chris, Jin

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Reassurance

Why was this happening? You were in his arms, covered in blood, he was covered in blood; It was everywhere. The cheering from the fans turned into screaming, that's when he should've stopped and had the damn sense to look around. Instead, he kept running and dribbling down the field, confused why nobody was stopping him. He didn't see you falling from the stands until you were right in front of him. Your arm twisted first, then your neck, the rest of you followed. Why was this happening? "No, no, no, no...(Y/N). Get help! What the fuck are you all standing around for?!" He took off his jersey and tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn't enough, you were already going cold. He was powerless.

"I said get help-!!" he roared. "Oh..oh fuck." He suddenly wasn't holding your limp body anymore, he was in his- your room. The smell of blood disappeared. He glanced over and made eye contact with you. "Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf!" "No..can you, can you just come here?" He crushes you in a bear hug as soon as you do. Even when he lets up, he opts to hold your hand instead. He makes you tell him about your day, because he got in late when you were already asleep. He tells you how much he loves you and recounts the day you two met just to stop his heart from bursting. "S-sorry I woke you up, I just- I needed that."

Ness, Niko, Aoshi, Sendo, Gagumaru, Igaguri, Kurona

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Some Space

The first thing he notices is that he can't breathe. The second thing he notices is that he is in a hospital. "No, I don't think he will ever be able to speak or move again." a voice he doesn't recognize claims. Someone is choking him and he can't stop them. It's himself, rabid, foaming at the mouth. The doppelganger realizes he's been caught and tightens his grip. "That's right, that's what you fucking get for ignoring yourself. You don't even fucking eat enough and you want to be a star, huh? You keep betraying yourself." His neck is lifted from the cold pillow. "And betraying yourself!" It's slammed back down. He wants to tell him to stop, to say anything, but he can't.

He wakes up like he's been jolted back to life by electricity, doesn't even realize he's screaming. "Baby, baby you're okay! It's okay." He feels your hands around him and feels ashamed instead of relieved. What the fuck was that?! "Just go back to sleep, I'll be back." You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "Please." This is nothing you can help him with, he needs to take care of himself and he knows it. Can't keep relying on others to pull him out. He takes a cold shower and comes back to bed hours later, slipping next to you. "I'm sorry I scared you." is all he says as his hands glide over your back. It's best if you just accept his apology, you'll never fully understand the war he's having with himself.

Chigiri, Kenyu, Kunigami, Kira, Sae, Barou

You Wake Him Up + It's Not Okay

Of course he knows this is a fucking dream, how could it not be? The overwhelming lights, the strange woman putting her hands on his chest. He knows exactly what this is about too. The paparazzi have gotten way too comfortable following both you and him around, they keep asking invasive questions and posting up outside of your house. The lack of privacy should be illegal. "You're famous now, you should like this you ungrateful piece of shit." a voice hisses in his ear as another pair of hands massages his shoulders. He tenses and struggles, but more hands appear, grabbing at his clothes. They tear pieces away from him with no remorse and something deep inside of him wishes it could end- Scratch that, every part of him wishes this would end, the violation, the rumors, the-

"Hey! Are you alright? I think..I think that you were having a nightmare." He gasps, so the feeling of hands on his chest were yours. Everything that was tensed relaxes, it was just you. That doesn't stop all his feelings from welling up along with tears. "Can you not touch me right now?" God, he wishes you wouldn't look at him like that. "Are you crying?" "No." He slips out of bed and checks the curtains, he can't shake the feeling of foreign hands on every part of him, not just his chest. Disgust curls and uncurls in his stomach. Why couldn't he just fight back on his own in his own damn head? "There's no one out there-" "How do you know!? Huh?" he demands, a whole lot louder than he meant to. "Fuck wait..I'm sorry. This week has just been a lot." You two end up having a long and needed talk that night.

Lavinho, Reo, Oliver, Rin, Raichi, Tabito

You Wake Him Up + It's Okay

He has been walking in circles for hours. Each loop, though, something changes. At first it was funny, (someone's head would balloon to an impossible size or a sign would read a curse word instead of an actual street name, for example) but now he was just tired. He couldn't sit down though or this burning pain would shoot through him...Just like in the real world, if he ever stopped shining, if he ever stopped moving forward, he'd get this feeling like he wasn't doing enough. Even on vacations there would be a gnawing sense that he was running from his rightful title. All he needed was the spotlight, even if it took so much fucking effort to get there. Practicing the same kicks over and over again, walking in circles, looking for what would excite him next-

"Please stop kicking me..." you groan and he wakes up instantly. Honestly, he didn't realize how terrifying his dream was until he's lucid. "Was I kicking you? Sorry... I just had the weirdest dream, it was like I kept walking in circles and I couldn't stop." "Maybe that's your brain telling you to take a break and stop treating my shin like a soccer ball." You two continue to make light of it and the more he talks about it with you, the more relaxed he gets. He's going to be just fine, especially with you by his side. "Mnh, good night." you finally whisper, cuddling up against him and tangling your leg with his in a final attempt to prevent any future attacks. "Good night." He watches you fall asleep with love in his eyes and wonders how a job obsessed weirdo like him managed to land someone as perfect as you.

Bachira, Loki, Isagi, Shidou, Nanase, Otoya, Zantetsu,

[spacedace]

Bit from a new dpxdc fic rattling around in my head I'm calling the Meddling Kids AU.

This snippet is so far removed from the context of the larger fic that I can't even imagine what yall are gonna think it's even about, which means it's perfect to throw out as a writing prompt for anyone that's interested haha

---

Well.

Good news: Jon had something that very publicly proved he couldn't be Superboy.

Bad news: his proof came in the form of getting his nose broken in front of the entire school cafeteria.

Weird news: tiny, waifish Danielle Masters - of all people - was the one who managed to actually break his nose when he'd stepped in to try to pull her off of Trip Hemmings.

She wasn't Kryptonian. Not unless Trip and his cronies were also secretly Kryptonians this whole time. She'd fucked them all up almost single-handedly when they'd tried to pull their usual shit with Fredrick Kern and she stepped in. But they were the ones that had started the whole messy fight when Trip decided to sucker punch the petite girl hard enough that the loud, ugly crunch of her broken nose had been heard even over the noise of the cafeteria, shoving her back into the cafeteria table and sending Fredrick's food flying.

She'd gotten slammed a couple more times during the scuffle, but she had given far more than she'd gotten and by the time Jon and Damian and managed to make their way through the crowd of students that had rapidly swarmed the scene of the fight, Trip's two goons were laying on the ground, conscious but groaning in pain and decidedly taken out of the fight.

Jon had surged forward through the crush of the gathered students towards where Danielle and Trip were. The latter sprawled across the table with Danielle on top of him, bleeding and bruised and feral looking with her bared teeth and wild eyes as she wailed down punch after punch on Trip's face. The fight was well and truly over at that point, Danielle clearly the victor, and teachers were on their way. Without even thinking about it Jon had reached out and touched her arm, intending to pull her off the little shit she was rightly wailing on before she could get in even more trouble for being involved with a fight.

It hadn’t been the wisest course of action. Danielle had been so keyed up she hadn't even realized it was him or absorbed anything he'd said, and assuming it was someone looking to hurt her turned one of her swings onto him. He'd had the spit second thought of how he was going to avoid the hit without looking like he had powers when her fist had collided with his face at a speed he hadn’t expected and sent him sprawling to the ground. It wasn't until he felt something hot dripping down his face that he realized she'd actually broken his nose and the pain flooded in.

So.

Danielle Masters was strong enough to break his nose. And still hadn’t managed to hurt anyone else - including fragile, normal humans - past some bad bruised and busted noses. She'd likely hit him as hard as she had out of blind reaction and not true intention to do real harm.

That was a thing.

A weird thing with some big implications.

D had checked, and Danielle Masters wasn't registered as a meta. Which didn't mean she wasn't one or that there was even anything nefarious going on. The uber-rich elite tended to cover things like that up, fine with meta rights and metas running around so long as it wasn't one of their own.

But it was still something.

She was strong enough to break Jon's nose. The number of entities in the world able to do that wasn't a very long list. The fact that a random girl at his school was capable of that was...not necessarily anything to be worried about. But the thing was that Danielle Masters was already someone he and D had been keeping an eye on as being...a little bit beyond the normal kind of weird. And that wasn't even getting into her dad's shady business or the potential connection between her and the weird spike in suicides.

“Here,” He blinked, pulled out of his thoughts at once to find the girl taking up all of them had shifted in her chair over to him to hold out an actual handkerchief to him. “Sorry about…” She motioned with her other hand towards his bloody face, wincing a little as she did. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He took the offered piece of fabric - oddly formal and old fashioned for anyone, let alone a girl like Danielle Masters - as the peace offering it was and offered her an awkward smile. “It was my fault for coming at you from behind,” He said, trying not to be too amused by the fact that they both sounded muffled and ridiculous with their busted noses. “I should have known better after you got jumped like that.”

Danielle shrugged, shifting back into the uncomfortable chairs they’d been parked in outside the dean’s office. The teachers on site were going over the situation with him as they had seen it, and from what Jon could hear were reviewing the CCTV footage from the cafeteria cameras. Trip’s family wasn’t prestigious or wealthy enough for the faculty to put aside their ethics and take his side, so their honest thoughts about the bully getting what he deserved - however annoying it was that they were going to have to deal with it all - shared freely from the perceived privacy of the office. Elle would still get punished for going as far as she did, but at least it wouldn’t be as bad as it could be for her.

“Assholes will be assholes.” She said, toying with the tie of her uniform. She’d ripped it off just as the fight had started, in a brief moment between kicking Trip back into his goons and them recovering enough to jump at her again. She had wrapped it around the knuckles of her dominant hand in a fast loop, giving her a little more protection before she then drove her padded fist right into the gut of Jordan Stone. She had followed it up by grabbing Jordan’s own tie and using it to get enough leverage on him to send him flying into Erin Dorner.

It was the kind of quick-thinking adjustment that Jon associated with D. Removing a potential liability, making it an advantage, latching on to any and all weakness in the opposition and using it against them. He wasn’t an expert in hand-to-hand combat the way Damian was - he could hold his own and knew how to fight with his fists as well as his powers, but there was a big difference between his skill and D’s - but he knew enough to be able to tell that Danielle wasn’t formerly trained. She was fast and quick and clever, but everything she did spoke of scrabbling street fighting brawls and learning from painful experience.

Something else to add to the seemingly endless list of things that were weird about Danielle Masters.

Because why would the daughter of one of the richest men in the country know how to scrap like a street fighter? Most rich kids didn’t really know how to fight at all, or if they did it was self-defense lessons taught by the best martial artists in the world. Maybe it was because of her meta powers? A fear of it getting out if she was taught to fight and ended up destroying a training dummy right with a single hit? But then how did she know to fight at all?

He teased Damian for going all Bernard Dowd on him for the oversized corkboard with all the notes and pictures and red thread, but Jon got it. Every new insight into the enigma that was Danielle Masters only ever led to a thousand more questions. A mystery only ever made murkier the more was known, instead of less.

—

Danielle - Elle, she’d told him to call her, a little fierce, even as her eyes were sad - hadn’t been afraid during the fight with Trip and his cronies.

Or if she had, her heart rate had never indicated it. It had risen during the fight sure, but it had been the steady quickening of a body exercising. No jackrabbit quickness, just an even increase in rate to account for her quick movements and hard hits. She hadn’t even really broken a sweat. She’d been steady the entire time, from the first sucker punch she’d taken to the face to the last she’d thrown herself at Jon.

She was scared now.

Dr. Penelope Spektor stood over the girl, usual bright, smiling face set in an unreadable mask as she stared down at Elle. Beneath the lighting of the waiting room outside the Dean’s office in her smart red suit and her glasses pushed up atop her head to rest against her bright red hair she looked almost like the devil. Jon wasn’t sure why that thought came to him. The school counselor had only ever been kind to him during the few times they’d spoken about his scholarship at Gotham Academy and his options for colleges. Maybe it was the intensity of her green eyes, the way they almost seemed to glow as they bore into Elle.

Maybe it was the way that Elle’s heartbeat had ticked up and started hammering in her chest the moment Dr. Spektor’s sharp heels were heard clicking down the hall towards them. The way she shrunk into herself as the woman moved to stand before her, above her, not saying a word. The way Elle looked like she wanted to fling herself from the chair and run as far and fast away from the woman as she could.

“I didn’t start-“ Elle’s voice was reedy, unsteady with fear and anxiety.

“Silence.”

Jon felt cold.

Elle snapped her mouth shut with a painful, jarring clack. Fast enough and hard enough to be painful. He thought he could hear one of her back molars crack from the force. He definitely heard her heart rate pick up even faster in her chest. So quick he was afraid it might just give out on her entirely. He saw the faint tremble of her hands as she wrapped them around herself, fingers digging into the fabric of her blazer with a kind of desperate hold as she clung to her own arms.

“I’ve called to inform your father of this incident.” There was a slithering, dark disgust in the words. A viciousness lacing through her icy tone. “Three days suspension. You will be spending that time with me.”

Elle looked like she might be sick at that, face draining of all color a the judgement the counselor had just given. She didn’t try to speak, to respond, just gave a stiff nod and bowed her head. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the floor, too much white exposed. Blood dripped down from her nose again, the thundering of her pulse breaking through the clotting and making bright red drip down her face.

Dr. Spektor’s gaze slid over to where Jon sat, frozen in place by the strange scene before him. In a blink her face smoothed out, back into the pleasant, welcoming smile she always wore whenever speaking to a student. “Oh my, Mr. Kent I had heard you got injured while trying to break that horrible ruckus up earlier.” She tisked lightly, and Elle flinched a little at the sound. “I’m so sorry about that, Danielle has a bad habit of getting into trouble and I hate to see that she’s gotten you involved in her mess this time.”

Jon, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, felt oddly at ease at her words. As strange as the feeling of being frozen in place that had overtaken him as he watched the tense scene between the school counselor and Elle. A slow, honey-thick feeling of calm, laced through with understanding and acceptance.

“It’s okay.” He said, throat feeling tight around the words. It wasn’t alright, he wanted to get to his feet, to put himself between Elle and Spektor. Wanted to drag the girl away somewhere safe and try and make her feel better, try and figure out just what was going on and why she was so afraid of the red-headed woman.

It was alright, though. He could feel it, settling into his chest, relaxing his shoulders, soothing away the tense anxiety. It was a little odd, but he just didn’t have the context of it all probably. Nothing to worry about, nothing to think about.

Elle was still hunched over, shoulder’s tight, eyes now squeazed tight. Her grip on her arms like a vice, squeezing with enough force she had to be bruising beneath the layers of her school uniform. Her heart rate a roaring drum in her chest, heart slamming painfully against the cage of her ribs, afraid, terrified.

“The fight wasn’t her fault Dr. Spektor.” He said, the words feeling like burning tar against his tongue, even though he knew the truth of them. “Trip and the other two attacked her first when she was trying to get them to leave the person they were bullying alone. She was just defending herself.”

Dr. Spektor’s lips twitched, just a little. Her expression held on her normal warm smile but something curled at the edges of her smile, the corners of her bright green eyes. Dark and deep, sharp as shattered glass and viciously, sickeningly pleased. She pulled her glasses off her head and set them back in place on her nose and the glimpse of that hungry thing beneath was gone.

Never there at all. A trick of the light. Too much time seeing the worst of humanity as Superboy and mistakenly thinking he saw it in the pleasant, kind face of the school’s counselor. Nothing to worry about at all. It was fine. He felt fine about all of it.

Elle was crying now.

He felt sick.

“Well, that is good to know.” Dr. Spektor said, voice honey sweet and lulling. “But I would hate for Danielle to fall into those old, nasty habits of hers. Better to make sure she understands that violence is never the answer.” She stepped over to him, leaning over to settle concerned eyes upon him and a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprisingly cool even through the weight of his blazer and the layers beneath. “Again I am so sorry you got hurt, Mr. Kent. I do hope Danielle can make it up to you later. She could use a good influence like you in her life.”

The sick feeling in his gut grew worse, even as his body was flooded with a sense of blissful contentment and unquestioning understanding of the situation. The vague idea that had been bubbling in him since the start of the school year to reach out to the girl in question solidified into a determined certainty that he would do just that the first chance he got. A flame flourishing at the gentle encouragement of a fan.

Just behind the school counselor Elle was terrified out of her mind.

Elle was just a little upset that she got in trouble, she’d be fine.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle with a barely contained cruelty, venomous and wrathful.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle normally, disappointed that she resorted to violence.

It was all wrong.

It was all perfectly fine.

The counselor stood up straight, gave him one last pat on the shoulder and a smile before turning towards the door of the Dean’s office. Her smile slipped for just a moment, face back in that disdainful blankness as she plucked invisible lint from her suit jacket. Not even looking at Elle as she gave a short, “Go to the car. Wait there. No detours. No calls. Speak to no one.”

Elle lurched into motion, getting to her feet with a mechanical kind of stiffness. She didn’t run down the hall but her awkward, robotic gate was nearly at that speed as she almost threw herself down the hall towards the side entrance where the staff parking lot was.

Dr. Spektor’s smile returned. Professional. Polite. The person everyone in school knew they could reach out to and trust if there was anything wrong, if they needed help. Guiding the students with a gentle hand, bolstering the faculty with her bright positivity. She knocked on the door and entered upon invitation with her familiar cheer.

Something was deeply, truly wrong with everything going on here.

Everything was perfectly normal.

D found him ten minutes later, dry heaving in the boys’ bathroom.

He couldn’t remember why he was there.

Everything was fine.

[glassrowboat]

Gas Station. Boothill.

There is no plot here, just porn.

Word count: 500+

Authors note: This is my first smut so fuck if I know if it's any good, you read it and find out.

Warnings: nsfw, male bottoming, fingering that gas thing on boothill's back, slut shaming

He was so cute like this, crying out as those robotic hands clung to the covers. Each little detail of those metallic digits sinking in deeper and deeper to the cloth below, you could swear it was his goal to tear apart. The sound of ripping surely wouldn't surprise you nor would the sight of threads laid out on the mattress Boothill was currently pressing himself against.

Did he honestly believe that some cushions and blankets would make an honest to goodness lifeline when not even his cries for you to slow down were being headed? The cold sting of metal biting your fingers as they flicked over the perfectly polished surface. Aluminum coating as you've learned between his babbles of “cutie, cutie, cutie.”

What a paltry attempt at cussing his little heart out.

“That's a good boy.” The tease was on the tip of your tongue in an instant, coaxing him on, guiding Boothill along just the same way your fingers were in his insides. Feeling along the fuel filler that unsurprisingly reeked. Getting close enough would have anyone believing they were suddenly at a gas station, pumps to their left and right listing out numbers of the last til taken as a man in the distance held a cigarette to his lips. “But I know you can take a little more.”

“Please- I ca-”

He can't? As if. He's done this time and time again, let your fingers fuck his little back side with his cute little ass up in the air. If it wasn't made of metal you'd be tempted to smack it, to toy with the flesh that would be there, to let your teeth sink in and draw out another whine. Another mewl. Another moan. All for your ears as the bed creaked again under Boothill's fist slamming down.

“You said you'd let me take my stress out, was that a lie?” Not even bothering to give him a chance to answer, not even a second for that pretty little head of two toned hair to think, another finger slid into his hole.

Indents, bumps, the little beads that spun round and round with every twitch of your touch all so sensitive. It was enough to make one think you were truly fucking his ass with how Boothill was reacting, head falling down as those measly little groans were barely muffled.

That's what he was trying to do, right?

“I didn't give you permission to muffle your voice, baby.”

“Honey,” he gasped out, the tone in his voice enough for you to know he was trying to say anything but the pet names that came from his lips that were spitting out drool. Saliva on his chin that was reflecting the dim lights that poured in through the closed curtains. “I'm sorry- I-”

“Seems I have to teach you a lesson on top of getting my work day off my mind. You're in for a long night, Boothill. So be a good fuck toy and take it.” What was that thing he seemed to like hearing so much last time? Oh, right. “Or I'll have to tell the other galaxy rangers just how much of a whore you are.”

And just as expected, his back arched at the words, trying to take more of what your touch was offering just like he was supposed to. Oh if only he did this earlier, then you wouldn't have to spend the rest of the night training him to behave.

[sinfulpanda16]

Smile for me Pretty Baby

Bakugou x fem reader

Bakugou is not one to comfort others if they're sad. It's a waste of his time but when it's his pretty baby, mans would do anything and everything to see you smile.

You don’t know when you’ve reached this point. You’re lying in bed with your blanket wrapped around you, holding one of your stuffed (f/a) plush while your other stuffed animals are around you and tears in your eyes.

You don’t like existing.

You think to yourself life is great, you go to a good school, you have awesome friends, a nice family, and a boyfriend that loves you. So why are you feeling like this? There should be no reason for you to be sad. 

Right?

Maybe existing would be nice if you were the you of your dreams.

You sniff and before you know it you start to cry again.

“Oi Shitty hair!" Bakugou calls for the redhead.

Kirishima turns around “Baku-” before Kirishima can finish Bakugou interrupts him. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Kirishima thinks for a second "Y/N? I think she's in her dorm room. I haven't seen her all day." and neither has Bakugou which is why he's asked that stupid nerd Deku and all the other extras of Class 1-A for you. It's not like you to stay in your dorm room all day. You're usually hanging out with the rest of the class. The others have also noticed your absence which is concerning. What the hell could be going on with you?

"Tch. Yeah, fine or whatever" Bakugou states and wastes no time heading towards your room.

Bakugou slams your door open. You sit up in shock and turn to look at your door. You've gone comfortable with letting your boyfriend come into your room without notice. You didn't mind except for today when you're not feeling good and not in the mood for his sarcasm. You make direct eye contact with him. His red orbs... they're wide. Bakugou is shocked to see you in such a state.

"Oi! What hell is up with you!?" he asks in a distressed tone.

You frown "If you came to be angry with me then turn around and close my damn door. I don't have time for this." you say with a shaky voice. The tears running down your cheeks and dropping onto your covers. Bakugou has never seen this side of you, when did his beautiful girlfriend talk with a tone like his.

He walks in your room and closes the door behind him. He's not sure what to do, he doesn't know why you're acting this way but he does know he hates the fact that you do not want to see him. He looks at you "Look. I'm not here to bother you. I'm... sorry." he looks away and curses under his breath when he apologizes but continues to talk. "I haven't seen you all day. What's wrong?" What else is he supposed to say? He's never gone out his way to comfort anyone, this is his first time ok.

You wipe your tears away. You really don't want to be a burden with your emotions, so you say, "I don't know". Bakugou grows irritated. This is difficult for him, but he doesn't care. He's going to help you feel better if it's the last thing he does.

He walks over to your bed and sits down next to you. You turn away from him. You're embarrassed, you didn't want him to see you like this. Which is why you could've sworn you locked the door. A hand reaches for your cheek, and you turn around to look at Bakugou. The two of you hold eye contact for a few seconds until he finally asks, "Pretty baby what's wrong?" with his worried eyes. In the five months you two have dated he's never called you by any pet names. He's always said they're for losers and not for him, the future number one hero.

Pretty Baby. You like it.

You sigh "I feel like life would be better if I was just better. I feel like me being better is impossible. I feel like I could never truly be happy because me being better isn't possible" You sniff and wipe your nose with your blanket. Bakugou helps wipe your tears with his thumb and lets you continue. "I just... maybe I am just not meant to ever be what I want to be. Maybe I was born to be my trashass self. Maybe I was just never meant to exist. Maybe life would've been better if I had never existed."

What the fuck did he just hear. Did those words seriously just come out of your pretty mouth. You never existing to begin with, that would kill Bakugou. YOU being in HIS life was the best thing that has ever happened to him. The thought of you not existing makes him so mad. So sad. Why is baby having these thoughts? You're probably one of the best people there are. It's why all of Class-1A love you. It's why he loves you so much he often thinks you deserve to be someone better than him. You deserve to be with one of the best people like yourself.

You continue shedding tears and Bakugou says your name. "Y/N". You look at him and he seems genuinely hurt by what you said about yourself. With his free hand he grabs your other cheek and begins to talk with a tint of anger in his voice "I don't know who the fuck told you, you need to be better or what the fuck made you feel that you need to be but trust me when I say, you are one of the best people in this world." What? He looks deep in your (e/c) eyes "A world without you sounds like hell. Don't you realize, you're a bit of the reason why this world is so nice. It's because of people like you. You, to me, are already the better version you want to be."

You are speechless. Bakugou has never acted like this before. It's a completely different side of him. A few more tears fall but not for the reason they were falling before. You love him. God you love him so much. He wipes your tears away for you and says, "I love you, Y/N". Thats the first time he's said it without seeming annoyed of having to. You're so speechless you don't even realize it.

"Smile for me pretty baby." He speaks.

There it is again. You smile and giggle as well, to which Bakugou responds with a smirk. He did it. He was able to comfort you.

You lose him in his thoughts when you say "Since when did you become such a softie?"

"Shut up! You think I actually like doing this?!" Yes, he does.

You kiss him and he kisses you back and when you pull away you thank him. Your boyfriend helped you get rid of those thoughts and that feeling for good.

You like existing.

And your Katsuki is a reason why.

[babyleostuff]

THE NIGHT WE MET

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: the one where you meet a handsome stranger in the art gallery who is as beautiful as the paintings

[ pairing: idol!minghao x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2k

warnings: a couple of swear words ]

song recommendation: the night we met by lord huron

Your steps echoed through the empty hall, as you entered the last room of the building. It was too early for anyone to be rummaging through the art gallery, even for you. It seemed like the universe wanted you to be here, though. At least that's what you were telling yourself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that school had been putting you in an emotional spiral for some time now and you wanted to be anywhere but there. 

So, as usual, you ran away to the place you always knew would cheer you up. 

Looking around the room filled with paintings all covered in beautiful pastel colours, depicting people who looked like they didn't have a single care in their lives, you stopped at your favourite, the biggest out of the collection. Every time you looked at it you felt a sense of peace and... carefree? You weren't sure why, but the girl on the swing looked so free, like she could do anything. Like she was truly happy. 

You’d do anything to feel like she did for just a moment.

"Don't you think The Swing is a bit overrated?" You were so lost in thought that you didn't hear someone approaching you. You huffed, shaking your head. If he was going to insult the painting, why did he say anything at all? Jerk.

“I wouldn't say that,” you stated, not looking at the stranger. You could tell it was a guy and he sounded like he was around the same age as you, maybe a little older. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, so you continued to stare at the painting.

He chuckled lightly, as if he sensed that you were annoyed, which made you dislike him even more. Why did he have to speak at all, couldn't he look at the painting and just walk away like any other normal person?

"What do you like so much about it, then?"

"And what about it bothers you so much?" You muttered. A moment of silence passed and you started to wonder if you weren't being too harsh. "I'm sorry if, um... I offended you in any way. That wasn't my intention, really," he said, and you could tell from his voice that he meant it. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. If this continued, your social interactions would drop to zero.

"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just not in the mood," you said and turned to the stranger. You were going to smile so you wouldn't look like a total bitch, but instead of doing that, your lips twisted into an 'o' shape.

This stranger, or rather the most beautiful guy you've ever seen, was looking at you with a curious expression.

"I-I'm tired lately and it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either," you wanted to hit yourself because that was literally the stupidest thing you could have said. "And it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either"? Well done. 

However, the stranger didn't look like he cared too much about what you said, he just nodded as if he totally understood what you meant. "I feel the same way sometimes," he admitted, turning his gaze towards the painting. "That's why I'm here now," he added.

You had trouble taking your eyes off his profile without looking like a total creep, but you honestly didn't think guys like that even existed. He looked perfect in every way. And it wasn't like you fell in love with every handsome guy you saw - love at first sight was overrated, but there was something about him that made you unable to take your eyes off him. 

"I'm guessing you're not from around here?" You asked. For a second, surprise crossed his face and his eyebrows furrowed, and you began to wonder if maybe you shouldn't have asked. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” you said, and with every second he didn't say anything, you became more and more convinced that he was the one pissed now. 

"No no. It’s okay" he said and looked back at you. His dark eyes, hidden behind glasses that you were sure were fake, landed on you. "It's just not often that I meet people who don't know who I am," he smiled and adjusted the sleeve of his white cardigan that had slipped off his shoulder. You gulped as your eyes landed on his sculpted arm, his white sleeveless shirt doing nothing to cover it. 

"Should I know who you are then?" You asked, taking a quick breath to calm yourself down. You were sure you had never seen him in your life, though, not even on the internet. Was he some sort of influencer? Maybe a YouTuber?

He chuckled, ruffling his black hair as if you had said something funny. "God, that sounded so pretentious. No, of course you don't need to know who I am."

But now you wanted, no - needed to know who this handsome stranger was, the one who decided to talk to you, a random person in the art gallery. Although it wasn't like he had much of a choice considering you were completely alone here. 

"Let's say I'm an artist."

"That doesn't tell me much. What type of artist?" You asked curiously. He looked at you, amused. "I create art on stage."

"Can't you just tell me who you are?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Now you were the one who couldn't stop from laughing. You guessed you wouldn't get more than that from him. "But it's not like Magic Mike, with you getting naked on stage and all?" Where the fuck did you get that from?

Great, it was your official self-embarrassment day. “Not that there's anything wrong with that,” you cleared your throat sheepishly.

You expected him to give you some sort of sarcastic remark, but instead his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he looked just as embarrassed as you were. "No, but I dance too."

“Ah, that's where the painted nails and earrings come from,” you pointed to his ears and he touched them as if to make sure his gold jewellery was still there. “Yeah.” 

For the first time, a comfortable silence fell between you and you honestly didn't want it to end. You no longer cared whether he liked the painting or not, but you didn't want him to leave. You felt a certain comfort in his presence that you couldn't quite explain.

"I like this painting because when I look at it I feel calm. Like I don't have any worries and the world is covered in nothing but pink colours, making everything more beautiful," you said, getting lost in your thoughts again. "I wish life was sometimes just about swinging on a swing.” You felt his eyes on you, but he didn't say anything, as if he was thinking about what you just said.

"I never looked at it that way," he said, tilting his head. 

��Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective,” you smiled. For some reason you couldn't stop it when he was next to you.

“I'm Xu Minghao,” he extended his hand towards you, which you shook lightly. It was a miracle that you even managed to say your name without fainting, his hand still in yours. "So assuming you're not from here, how long will you be staying in town?” You asked, finally letting go of his hand, no matter how much you wanted to keep holding it.

But then… Why did he seem to hesitate when he let go of yours, too? Your stomach seemed to do somersaults and your heart was beating twice as fast.

"I’m leaving tomorrow," he admitted, though you couldn't tell from his voice whether he was happy or sad about it. Looking at him, his thoughtful face that didn't look as content as yours when you looked at The Swing, you had a sudden urge to hug him.

He had a comforting presence, but for some reason you felt that he himself needed some comfort. 

“Um, would you like to maybe,” you held out one of your headphones towards him. "We can listen to something,” you proposed. He nodded, so you walked up to him, heart beating like crazy, with the headphone still in your hand. “Do you have a specific request, Minghao?” You asked.

“Let’s listen to the last song you listened to.” 

Your hands touched again as you handed him the earbud, and you could have sworn Minghao let out a nervous breath then. It turned out the wire was too short for you to keep a big distance, so you stood side by side, shoulders brushing. You unlocked your phone and played your most recent song, rewinding it to the beginning. 

The night we met.

“How ironic,” you muttered, as the first rays of rising sun poured through the gallery windows. Minghao smiled gently, looking down at you, with the softest gaze anyone has ever looked at you.

You felt like the whole world stopped at that moment - it was just you, Minghao, and the paintings, which for the first time weren't the most beautiful thing in the room. 

I had all and then most of you,

Some and now none of you,

Take me back to the night we met.

You wondered how long it would take you to forget Minghao and he would become just a memory of the handsome stranger, like a ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting you. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to do,

Haunted by the ghost of you.

“You have no idea how glad I am that I came here,” he said so quietly you thought you misheard him. "Actually, no one knows I'm here," he snorted. "My friends will kill me when I come back," Minghao shook his head. You felt like you had crossed every line of being a stranger, so you laid your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

When the night was full of terrors,

And your eyes were filled with tears,

When you had not touched me yet,

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

“I'm sure they'll understand,” you said, just as quietly as he did. “Everyone needs to get away for a while now and then.”

You stood like that for the next three minutes, your head on Minghao’s shoulder, his hand dangerously close to yours, connected by the cable of your headphones, staring at the painting that meant two different things to the both of you. You dragged out the moment when the song had to end, you wanted to stop this moment forever. "When do you have to go back?" 

"I still have one," he looked at his watch. "two hours. Then I have to leave.” You nodded. No matter how much his words hurt you, you decided it was better to use the time you had left. "I know this may be a bit lame, but would you like to go for some tea?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up and his eyes sparkled as if you just gave a new toy to a child.

"You're reading in my mind. Of course I'd like to go," he beamed as he said it. Now he was even more handsome, if that was possible. "Let me guess," you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “You're a green tea type.” He chuckled, causing your shoulders to brush again.

"You are amazing." For a moment, there was no air in your lungs and no words in your mouth. How were you supposed to respond to something like that? 

“Let's go then, Mr. Xu,” he smiled and extended his hand to you and you gladly took it. 

This time, however, you didn't let it go.

Take me back to the night we met.

[...]

You opened Twitter because you knew that if you wanted to find someone, it was there. You clicked on the first video that appeared to you. "I don't understand but I love you" fancam. Interesting.

You sat up more comfortably on the bed, as the first tunes of the song started playing. So he was a singer, right? What did he mean by saying he did dancing too, though? 

But with every second that the video was playing, your eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

"What the fuck?"

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings

[lexxiie]

can we have lov trio + overhaul discovering that their s/o had been cheating on them? 🥺

When They Think You Cheated

Omg, anon, no! I'm so bad at writing break ups, so I'll change the concept a bit to them believing their s/o is cheating, but she's not.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Featuring: Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul.

TOMURA SHIGARAKI

Tomura is an insecure man. That is no secret to either of you, however, he understands how his insecurities may harm your relationship, so most of the time he voices them out so that you can both talk about them, and you always end up reassuring him.

Today, though, he cannot, for the life of him, think of a way to talk out the fact that you have a hickey on your neck. What is there to talk about? The truth that he ignored was that you accidentally burnt your neck earlier this morning while doing your hair, it would've never occured to him, especially when he was as angry as he is right now, observing your neck, a thin layer of make up attempting to cover the mark, but failing. Why would you even hide it if there was a reasonable explanation? He knew for a fact that he didn't left that on your neck.

As much as he wanted to yell at you and dispose of all his rage, truth was that he was really hurt, and so everything he managed to do was confront the reality with resignation. "Who did that?" He asked calmly, but you could hear bitterness in his voice. "What?" You asked, not very sure what he meant. He looked at you angrily now, it was very clear. "Who's the guy that you are seeing? Or do you just happen to have a different one every now and then? You know, I always thought of you as a smart girl, but it is very stupid of you to let them leave your neck like that, you could've tried harder to hide it." You finally understood what was going on... Oh god. He tried to sound as if he didn't care, cold and indifferent, but you knew how incredibly hurt he was.

You immediately got up and approached him, reaching for his face, but he moved to avoid your touch. "Tomura, look, it's a burn mark, I did it with my straightener, I swear." He looked at you through narrowed eyes, still not believing you. You rushed to your room and came back with your straightener in hand, turning it on and attempting to place it on your arm, but Tomura immediately stopped you. "Are you crazy?" The man scolded you, and you looked at him desperately. "It is a burn, I swear." You repeated. Now starting to doubt himself, Tomura then reached for your neck, caressing it softly with his thumb, rubbing a bit of the make up off. You were right. Oh no. He truly felt like a fucking asshole. The man sighed before pressing his forhead against yours. "I'm truly sorry, (Y/n). I'm so, so sorry." You were just relieved it all ended. He spent the rest of the evening tending to your wound, scolding you for putting make up on when it was still so fresh and kissing your cheeks in hopes you would forgive him. Never again will he act like that, that's for sure.

TOUYA TODOROKI | DABI

Touya sits silently on the edge of the bed as he observes the hotel recipt he found under the bed. It dates a week back, when you were supposed to go on a work trip at a completely different city than the one this hotel was at. Now, he can be very confident some days, and very insecure some other days. This is one of the latter days, evidently. In moments like this, thousands of thoughts run through his mind. Why? Is it because of the scars? But you said you didn't care. Did you lie? Of course you did, who would actually choose him over anyone else? He feels stupid, and so heartbroken. He loves you. He really does, and now all of this hurt has turned into uncontrolable anger.

He stands up and walks to the kitchen, where you turn around to smile at him as soon as you hear him coming, only to be greeted by his beautiful blue eyes contorted in pure rage. He must be a very scary adversary to his enemies. "What the fuck is this, (Y/n)?!" He asks while holding the recipt in his hand, speaking those words through gritted teeth, as if his jaw was frozen because of how angry he is.

"Wait, Touya, is not what it looks lik-" The villain slammed his fist on the kitchen island, flames emanating from it. "It's not?! Really, (Y/n)? Do you really think i'm this fucking stupid?” He is now yelling, very loudly. He starts getting closer to you, and you start walking backwards, trembling. He then takes one more step forward and you raise your arms as if you wanted to protect yourself. Now Touya is the one walking backwards. He would never hurt you, but as he took a step back, he realized that it really looked like it. Did you think that he was gonna incinerate you? Did you think he was about to hit you? The look on your eyes was too familiar, he had seen it in his mother's eyes way too many times. He sighed deeply as he burried his face in his hands. It seemed like he wanted to wake up from a nightmare, and then, as seconds went by and he wasn't lifting his head, you realized he might have started to cry, though he would never let you see him.

"That day-" you started speaking after several minutes, "I decided to stay at a different city because I heard about it being quiet and pretty. I thought maybe I could rent an apartment there, so you wouldn't be at risk. There isn't many people, it is indeed quiet, no one would recognize you, so I looked at a few places. There isn't anyone else I'm seeing, just apartments." Touya finally lifted his head from his hands, and you could see the relief in his eyes, but also a lot of guilt. A lot of it. He got closer, kneeling before you, pressing his forehead to your body, his hands clenching the coat that covered the sides of your frame. This was him apologizing. You caressed his hair softly, everything would be okay.

KAI CHISAKI | OVERHAUL

He trusts you, he really does, but what is he supposed to believe when you tell him that you are going to the grocery store and you lie. He went there to help you in case you had bought too many stuff since it was taking you a while, but you were nowhere to be found. Minutes later, you come home, smelling like men's cologne that clearly wasn't his own.

God, this can't be happening, he thinks to himself. You walk to him, hoping to get a kiss from the yakuza, but instead you are greeted with a cold stare, his lips don't move when you place yours over them. "Where were you?" He asks visibly angry. "At the grocery store." You answered showing him the two bags on your hands. "All of these hours just for that? You really don't want to piss me off, (Y/n). Not more than you already did." Now his tone sounds like a threat, and you get defensive. "What is that supposed to mean?" You ask him. You have always hated whenever he would talk to you like you were one of his men, and he knew that. "Where did you actually go?" Unbelievable. You still didn't quite understand where he was trying to get, but you did know that you didn't like the way he was interrogating you. "Did you go out to meet with someone?" He asked, this time, impatience ruled over his voice. Okay, so he thinks you are cheating. great.

Leting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bags on the floor and approached the hurting man before you. Much to your surprise, he allowed you to take his face in your hands. "I went out to get you a new cologne, I noticed you ran out of the last one I gave you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but it is in the car, in case you wish to have it now."

God, did he feel like an idiot right now... You could tell that he was beating himself up mentally. The worst part of it was that he felt truly relieved that you hadn't fallen out of love with him yet. Despise him attempting to seem indifferent earlier, he felt like his whole world was crumbling down before him. Kai then took your hands in his, kissing them softly. "I'm truly very sorry, darling." He said sincerly. "It's okay, I should've made up a better excuse anyway." You replied smiling gently. He couldn't help but smile back, still embarrassed with himself. He compensated you treating you to dinner that night. Kai saw himself realizing how strong he felt about you. The sole idea of you leaving made him feel vulnerable and terrified for the very first time in a while. He was going to need to learn how to trust you more if he didn't want to lose you.

KEIGO TAKAMI | HAWKS

The pro hero had a lot of work all of the time. He would get home late very often, many times closer to sunrise than midnight. Of course, it was only logical for you to be asleep at those hours, which was always the case. Except for last week.

He had gotten home very late, but still earlier than usual, expecting to find his lover on his bed, hoping he could hold on to you for a couple of hours before he had to get to work once again, but you weren't there. Naturally, he freaked out, but just as he was about to go looking for you everywhere, the main door flew open. He hid on the bathroom, in case it was someone else, but all he saw was you getting on the bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

He let that incident go. He gave you the benefit of the doubt, he gave you his trust. This despite the uneasy feeling in his chest, however, today, you weren't on the bed either. Now the doubt felt very real. What on earth could you be doing at 4 am? He waited a couple of minutes, until you finally got home. The hero was trying his very best not to break down when he saw you. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this hurt. "That other bed must be really comfortable." He accused, startling you as you obviously weren't expecting to see him yet. "What?" you asked, a bit disoriented. "You heard me." Keigo then stood up from the couch, walking towards you. "How long have you been sneaking out for, huh? Cause this is the second time I witness this already" You realized how this looked immediately. Oops.

"Listen, Keigo, I'm not sleeping with anyone else. In fact, I'm not sleeping at all." The man looked at you confused now, all of the anger he previously showed you slowly disappearing. "I have been having trouble sleeping, so i go out and take walks in hopes i'll get tired, I'm sorry I worried you, yes?" You assured your lover as you took his hands in yours, offering him a tired smile. "But why? You used to sleep well before..." All of his previous worries seemed to be forgotten as soon as he realized how tired you looked, his hands roaming your face, as if they would figure out what had changed. "Yes, that was before you would leave all night, I guess I'm a bit more anxious now." You confessed. He felt very bad for adding to your already bad night with his insecurities. Soon after, though, Keigo managed to change his schedule, making sure to spend every night holding you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss you too. As for that particular night, he prepared you a tea and talked about his day until he made sure you had fallen asleep.

MASTERLIST

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: After teasing and disobeying Bob, you get your well deserved punishment.

Warning: Choking (yes this is the bicep choking fic), dash of size kink, lots of sex, oral (both receiving), language, mean dom Bob bc I'm a whore

"Darlin'. Behave." His voice is low, gravely in your ear. His fingers gently squeeze the flesh on your hip. To others, it looks nothing out of the ordinary. Just Bob, whispering sweet nothings to his partner.

If only they knew.

You let out a confused hum, tilting your head up to face his. The smile on your face is innocent, unassuming. The same smile that Jake swears was the key to him figuring out that you were married to Bob, stating that y'all looked like 'you just stepped out of a movie musical from the fifties'.

You didn't wear long dresses and skirts because you felt a kinship to a particular decade.

Rather, the extra fabric made it easier to cover yourself while Bob fucked you in his truck. 

Which is exactly what you wanted to be doing right now instead of watching Jake and Bradley argue over a round of pool.

Usually wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your back into his chest did the trick. Apparently watching two grown men argue was too distracting.

So you began to move your hips, subtly grinding your ass against his crotch. Bob simply squeezed the flesh of your hips, sending a subtle reminder back.

That just wouldn't do.

God, you had been aching for him all day. And yes, it was a bit greedy to still want him after he gave up arriving on time tonight in order to eat you out. Truly, you had hoped the act would be enough until you two returned home. 

But he just looked so good in his white T Shirt. Bob was always handsome, but you loved it when he dressed casually. The soft fabric of his shirt hugged his muscles that he didn't show very often. It seemed that people often forget that Bob had to stay physically fit for his job, that he also had to do two hundred push ups.

You never forgot.

"Just a little bit longer, then we'll go home. Kay?" Bob whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You nodded your head, despite being unsatisfied with his response. Stilling your body, it appeared that you understood his request.

Bob slung an arm around your shoulder, his hand near your breasts, but just out of reach. Your thighs clenched at the sight of his fingers, thinking about how earlier he had used them to make you come so hard your legs shook.

So your hips began their ministrations again. To onlookers, it looked as though you were simply swaying to the music playing from the old jukebox.

Bob knew the truth.

The grip he had on your hip tightened, his lips trailing from your forehead to your ear, "What did I just say?"

"I like this song," you stated, shrugging your shoulders. It was fun, seeing how far you could push him. Bob was pretty good at keeping up the facade, as if his cock wasn't growing erect underneath his jeans.

If things were up to you, his cock would be growing inside you while your back was pressed into the mattress.

Instead, you were still at the Hard Deck, Bob seemingly determined not to break.

"Y'know I'm gonna fuck you when we get home, right?" He whispered, pulling you closer to him, hoping the promise would be enough to satiate you. 

"I know," you said with a sweet smile. No one thought anything odd of your exchange because it looked like a normal conversation you and Bob were having. 

If only they knew. 

Your hand trailed up from his thigh to the back of his neck. His hair was soft, curling thanks to the hat he had on. That old trucker hat that he always wore when he wasn't in uniform. 

Bob let out a strangled grunt upon feeling you tug his hair. The sensation only lasted for a few seconds, your hand moving quickly back to his thigh. 

He was stunned, or so he appeared. 

His arm swiftly moved up your chest. Your eyes bulged upon feeling his bicep against your neck, restricting your airway. 

The action was brief, his bicep gone before anyone could see anything. But the sensation, how easy it was for him to choke you, how he didn't have to move his arm that much because the muscle was so big, remained in your brain, replaying over and over again, your thighs clenching. 

"That made you wet, didn't it?' He asked, chuckling. As if he just witnessed something amusing, rather than choking you in public. 

"Why don't you go check?" 

His stare burned into the back of your head. You didn't need to look, you knew his icy blue eyes were narrower, his nostrils flaring as he thought about what you just implied. 

"You heard me," you whispered, words smug. 

Bob's hand moved quickly. It wasn't a hard slap, but it made your eyes widened. Within seconds after slapping your face, that same hand was now gripping your chin, tilting it upwards so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

No one noticed. 

He had been so fast, that it looked like he was simply cupping your chin to kiss you. 

How sweet. 

No one noticed how his hand was trailing up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, moving towards the space in between your thighs. 

No one noticed how his eyes widened when his hand felt your soaked folds rather than cotton. 

“This whole night?” Bob asked. 

"Wanted to be ready for ya," was the only explanation you gave him. 

It was all you needed. 

Bob didn't let you get that far into the house. As soon as you reached the living room, your knees were on the carpet. The soft material brushed against your face as your legs were pried apart. 

"Ya think you're so big for that fucking stunt, don't you?" His hands were rough, grabbing your hips, pushing them towards his. 

A desperate moan fell from your lips upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare ass. 

"Should have fucked you right then and there. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You couldn't help but let out a needy whine upon hearing the sound of him unzipping his jeans.

"But you'd like that too much, wouldn’t ya?" His voice was sinful, low and gruff as he repeated himself, indicating he wanted a response. 

It took some time for Bob to be this comfortable around you. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, and quite frankly, part of him was worried you wouldn't be into it. 

He was so wrong. 

For as much as you liked being in charge, there were times where you didn't want to make decisions, to think through every action. You wanted to be daring, to be reckless. 

Most of all, you wanted someone to reign you in, to call the shots. 

It worked out well, for Bob only had so much control in his daily life. He didn't call the shots, that was ultimately up to his pilot. He couldn't control what others did up in the air. 

But in this moment, he could control you. Could mold you to how he saw fit. He could make you cum over and over until your legs shook or edge you till tears ran down your face. 

He had options, choices. Something he reminded himself as he felt your bare cunt grinded itself against his denim covered crotch. 

His large hand found your ass, roughly grabbing your soft flesh, practically marveling at your curves. 

“Only want you Robby. Only you,” You pleaded, your voice music to Bob’s ears. 

“God, you’re so soft,” He murmured into your ear, his fingers finding their way to your soaked folds, “Want all of ya.”

You moaned as his fingers thrusted into you, finding that special spot with a precision and quickness that only Bob possessed. 

The sound of his name said in broken moans filled the air, mixing with the lewd sounds of your wetness as his fingers continued his ministrations, his thumb finding your clit. 

With anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how desperate and loud you were. But god, his fingers were so thick and made you feel so fucking good. Bob knew your body like the back of his hand, every curve, every spot that drove you closer to the edge. 

And you’re so close, you need just a few more thrusts, a few more rough circles drawn on your clit and you would be seeing stars when you closed your eyes. 

But you didn’t deserve that. Not after what you just pulled. 

Which is why Bob responds to your tears and pleads when he pulls out with a harsh slap against your cunt. Pleasure laced pain courses through your body, your own fingers gripping the rug for purchase. 

“Don’t you dare. Turn around and show me how bad you want to come and maybe then I’ll think about it,” Bob ordered. His words caused your walls to clench around nothing. 

You maneuvered your body so that you were now looking up at him. His erection was straining against his clothes, his cock impossible to ignore. 

Quickly, your fingers found the buttons of his jeans, undoing them enough so you could easily pull down both his pants and boxers to his knees. 

Your mouth all but salivated at the sight of his cock, now resting against his abdomen. 

Bob had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. It was perfect, not too thick, curved ever so slightly, which allowed him to hit that spot with every thrust. 

You moaned as your lips touched the plush tip, tongue lapping up the precum that had formed. The vibrations sent shivers down Bob's spine, a deep grunt falling from his lips, his hands gripping your shoulders. 

He used his hands to gently guide your mouth further down his cock. Your cheeks hollowed out, trying to take in as much of him as you could. 

"Just like that sweetheart, f-fuck." Bob could maintain his composure thousands of feet up in the air, but as soon as your pretty mouth was wrapped around his cock, all bets were off. Your mouth was heaven and he loved how eager you were to show him you were able to take so much of him now. 

Drool began seeping down your chin as your head bobbed up and down, taking in as much as you comfortably could. 

His call sign never stood for baby on board. 

"Ya want me to come in your mouth? Or that pretty little pussy of yours?" His words made you want to rub your thighs together, an urge you were desperately fighting, not wanting to risk any more punishments. 

You looked up at Bob and he wished he could take a picture. Wide eyes and your mouth wrapped around his cock. You were beautiful and all his.

And boy, did Bob Floyd fucking love it. 

His fingers gripped your chin, guiding your head away from his cock, "I asked you a question darlin. You gonna give me an answer or do I need to teach you some manners again?" 

"I want you to come in my pussy. Please." 

Bob chuckled, "So polite for a dirty little girl. Turn around." 

And that was your punishment. He'll fuck you, he'll let you come, but you couldn't see him unless he let you. You couldn't kiss Bob unless he wanted to. 

He entered you swiftly, eliciting a near scream from you. 

"Robby!" 

No one had ever made you feel so good, so full before. Bob wasted no time, knowing you were prepared thanks to this afternoon. 

"Fuck, taking my cock s-so good, angel," his voice was shaky, his breath hot on your ear. Even if you were in trouble, he couldn't help but praise you. 

You tilted your head up, hoping he would act on pure instincts and kiss you. 

His lips ghosted over your face, cerulean eyes nearly all but closed as he reveled in the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his cock. 

"S'big Robby, I-" 

"Shhh," he pressed his lips to your forehead, "You don't have to think. Just let me use that pretty little pussy of yours." 

He snaked an arm around your neck, tightening his grip so his bicep pressed against your throat. Now you had no choice but to look up at him. 

Broken, choked gasps filled your living room, swirling with the sounds of Bob's hips meeting yours. All you could do was take it, his cock repeatedly brushing against the spot that made your toes curl and your back arch in pleasure. 

Before you met Bob, you didn't think that spot even existed. 

"You gonna make a mess all over my cock? C'mon baby, you can do it," Bob flexed his bicep, further restricting your airflow. 

That one movement broke the dam. Your legs shook as white hot pleasure ran through your body. Bob, ever the doting husband, was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you up while your orgasm took over your body. 

"Please don't stop," you're begging and you don't care. Every thrust prolongs your pleasure. All you can focus on, all you care about is your husband and how his cock is sending you to a pleasurable bliss. 

"S'pretty, want another one," Bob's chest was pressed against your back, his hand snaking to just above where you two connected. 

His fingers, calloused from years of work, felt heavenly on your clit. 

The pleasure was now rolling through you in waves. Each thrust, each swipe of your clit sent you reeling. If it weren't for the arm Bob and around your neck and collarbone, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself up. 

"C'mon baby, so fucking pretty. Know you got another one in ya. Fuck, you feel so good. C-can't believe I get ya all to myself, love you s'much," his words were beginning to slur, as if he was drunk off of you. 

It was one of your favorite parts about having sex with Bob. When his words began to slur, when the only things he could intelligibly say were praises for you, the only thing he could focus on was you. 

Between Bob's praises and the circles his thumb was drawing on your clit, your eyes closed as pleasure took over your body again. You were screaming something, could feel your throat strain as you spoke. But what exactly it was, you couldn’t say. 

A large hand cradled the back of your head, the other maneuvering your legs so they were wrapped around a lithe waist.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on your bed, a pair of blue eyes staring back at you. 

"Hey darlin," Bob's voice was soft as his nose glided over your cheek, "Wanna keep going?" 

You weakly nodded, your hands reaching up to his hair. 

"Use your words darlin," Bob reminded, fucking his head down to press gentle kisses and nips across your neck. 

"Want," you whined, causing Bob to sink his teeth into your collarbone, "Want you to come inside me Robby! Please!" 

A low, guttural groan came from your husband, "Fuck, how did I get so lucky?" 

His mouth trailed down your body, leaving kisses all over. Your fingers flew to his shoulders when you felt his nose brush against your clit. 

"Robby, you said-" 

"I know," his breath was hot on your most intimate part, "But I just gotta taste ya first, okay?" 

Bob couldn't help it and you knew it too. Yes, he got to taste you earlier. He knew it was bad to be greedy, but your cunt was an exception. 

So he didn't feel bad when his tongue found your soaked folds, lapping up your arousal. It drove Bob wild, getting to taste you. He had to fight the urge to grind his hips against the comforter, wanting to come inside you. 

Your fingers were threading themselves in his sun kissed hair, needing something to hold onto as he groaned against your cunt. 

"S'good," Bob moaned, sending vibrations all along your body. Wanting to keep you ready for him, he thrusted a finger inside you. 

"Robby!" 

Bob simply smirked, knowing your walls could feel the cool, smooth metal of his wedding band. He continues making languid thrusts against that spongy spot, the one that he knows drives you wild, makes your legs shake. 

Besides, you were still being punished. You wanted to come so badly tonight, so Bob was going to make you come.

Over and over again. 

Your back arched as his tongue continued to lap at your clit, sensitivity surging through you. 

While your release came in a smaller wave this round, it was still intense. Your fingers gripped the soft strands of Bob's hair, hips jerking upwards in a shameless attempt to get more of Bob's mouth. 

"What's wrong? Thought ya wanted my cock darlin," Bob smirked when he pulled away. 

It was impressive how after five years he could still take you by surprise. You open your eyes, his words making you want to sit up. 

Instead, your husband's lips crashed onto yours, his large hands pushing you back down to the mattress. 

"Asked ya a question darlin. Gonna give me an answer?" 

Two could play the game. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, nails brushing against his scalp as you tugged on the locks, pulling his head back. 

"You gonna fuck me?" 

You could only place a few love bites on his neck before you were back on your knees, face against the pillow. 

"When did you get so bold?" The rural drawl laced his deep voice, his breath hot on your neck. 

"Since you stopped fucking me." That was the final straw. Bob quickly lined his cock to your entrance and thrusted in without a warning, sending you practically reeling. 

"Fuck Bob!" 

"That's what I'm trying t'do," he snarled, his hips quickly meeting yours. 

Any smartass comment died in your throat when Bob's bicep pressed against your neck. God, it was easy to forget how big and strong he was. He tried to hide it, tried to make himself small, make himself blend in by hunching over, by not taking up as much space. 

Which was why you loved it when he displayed his strength. He didn't have to flex much, if at all, to have the muscle against your throat, restricting your airway. 

"Can tell how much ya love that from the way you're clenching me so tight." 

You could only let out a strangled hum of agreement, too busy focused on how fucking full you felt every time he bottomed out. 

Bob knew you were getting close. He could tell by the way your breath quickened, your walls clenching around his cock, not wanting it to leave. 

Bob was also very close. Had been for quite a while. But he was raised to be a gentleman and you deserved to come several times before he did. 

His free hand trailed down to where you two connected. Just a little more attention to your clit and Bob would have you right where he desperately needed you. 

All you could do was take his cock, take in the scent of eucalyptus that surrounded him, mixed with the sweat that came from his hard work. 

"M'so close," you weakly groaned, fingers finding purchase in your comforter. 

"I know, just a little more. You can wait for me, I know ya can. Fuck I'm so lucky, married to ya. Ya gonna take it all too, aren't ya? Fuck, I love ya so fucking much." 

He released the grip he had on your throat, turning your head so he could capture your lips once more. 

That was what sent you reeling. That's what made you see galaxies when you closed your eyes. The only thing you could focus on was how good he felt, fucking you, coming inside of you, filling you up with everything he had. 

For what seemed like ages, you two were frozen in place, trying to catch your breath. 

"Darlin, I'm gonna pull out now, 'kay?" Bob finally said, gently pressing a handkerchief to where you two were connected. 

"Can we shower after this?" You mumbled. 

Bob pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "Course we can." 

"With the shower steamer?" 

Bob chuckled, "The rosemary one, right?" 

"Love ya Robby." 

"I love you too darlin'."

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@lewmagoo @ohtobeleah @sometimesanalice @cumholland @chxosunbound @callsignspark @dissonannce @yanna-banana @lovinglyeternal @cherrycola27 @lostinthefandoms11 @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @mothdruid @delopsia

[playstation-dreamcast]

This came to me in a dream. Anyway:

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Choose Your Character: Albert Wesker

Summary: For the sake of the mission, Albert Wesker is willing to do just about anything within reason to gain the trust of his S.T.A.R.S members. Apparently, building a snowman with his favorite new rookie is within reason.

Tags: Fluff, S.T.A.R.S Wesker, Nicotine use, Crack treated so serious none of my beta readers thought it was crack, Noncanon compliant RPD, Gender Neutral Reader.

Word count: 3k

It all started with that stupid fucking snowman.

A childish game he played to indulge his subordinate and gain their trust late one night after the S.T.A.R.S office had closed. He knew better even then, that it was an absolute waste of time. But, he complied, because it was you who asked.

Okay, maybe it didn't start with The Snowman. Maybe it started with the cigarette you shared. Sitting on the snow covered sidewalk, passing the smoke between the two of you while you talked. It came so easy to him, just talking with you. It was never that easy with anyone else.

He could still smell the smoke when he closed his eyes. He could see the snow caught in your lashes, and the fog of your breath. He could still feel how tight his chest got, and the roller coaster feeling of his stomach dropping when he finally had to admit to himself that he was sweet on you. And that he couldn’t keep lying to himself about it.

And you had no idea. You smiled like it was any other night. 

"Hey, can I bum a cigarette off you?" You asked him that at least twice a week since you started working as a member of S.T.A.R.S. It got to the point that he started to plan for it. Sadly, he was late to work this morning and didn't have time to buy another pack.

"Sure," he said, simply handing you the one he had just lit. You took it gratefully and smiled.

"Thanks Captain, you save me once again," you teased as you sat down next to him, taking a drag off the smoke. "You gonna light one?"

"That was my last one," he confessed with a shrug; chin resting in his hand, elbow resting on his knee. He thought about leaving, it wasn’t like he had anything left to do here. But he stayed anyway. He’d regret it later.

"What? Then why'd you give it to me dude?"  you scoffed.

He looked at you out of the corners of narrowed eyes. "Don't call me 'dude,'" he, half-heartedly at best, reprimanded as you rolled your eyes, "and because you asked for it. As your captain it's my job to take care of you." He didn't mean for it to come out like that, but he wasn't going to backtrack now and make it weird.

"Ah yes, taking care of me by giving me cancer. Truly, so selfless of you." You giggled as you handed him the smoke. 

He took it without thinking, easily taking a puff off it. "If I was worried about that, I'd have to fight a losing war with half the team- myself included." He took another drag to prove his point, "I like to think I pick my battles more wisely than that."

You hummed as you nodded, taking the cigarette back and putting it to your lips. You huddled closer to your captain, watching the snow fall and seeking his warmth in the cold. "It's pretty out." You smiled.

"It's nothing we don't see every winter." He took the smoke back.

You playfully pushed him, "Oh sorry Oscar didn't realize you fell out of your can."

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm calling you a grouch, Wesker." He nodded in acknowledgement of your clarification, and didn't try to argue. Just took a particularly long drag and handed the cigarette back to you. 

You took your turn with it and continued. "You gotta be able to still see the beauty in the small things, and the wonder in the world. Or else you just become old and bitter, and nobody wants that." He didn't have the heart to tell you he was already there. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, watching as new snow covered the old. It had become a ritual between the two of you – one Wesker had grown quite fond of. Every night when the two of you closed the S.T.A.R.S office together, you took the time to share a smoke break before going your separate ways for the night.

Wekser looked forward to them more than he cared to admit. At first it was just another thing he did to ensure all members of S.T.A.R.S trusted him. Fifteen minutes at the end of a shift was a small price to pay for the confidence of his team, and as long as they had confidence in him they wouldn’t doubt him. 

He wasn’t quite sure when he started looking forward to your quiet conversations, just like he wasn’t really sure when he started buying two packs of cigarettes to accommodate them. Or how he wasn’t sure when he started looking for little excuses throughout the day to touch you, to talk to you, to have your attention. At some point you had wormed your way into his mind and made your home there. He would have resented you for it if he could find it in him to do so.

He almost jumped when you finally broke the silence. "You know, when I was a kid, my dad would always let me stay home for the first snow of the season- didn't matter if school was canceled or not."

Wekser took the cigarette from your hand. "Sounds like irresponsible parenting to me, keeping a child from their education." He finally killed the smoke, flicking it off into the abyss.

"Maybe!" you admitted, "but, those days were important to me. We'd always go out and make a giant snowman – as big as we could – and try to keep him alive for the season." You smiled at your warm childhood memories. "It was fun."

"I've never built a snowman before." Wesker confessed. He wasn't sure why he did, it's not like you were asking. It just fell out of him. You had a way of pulling things out of him without even trying, something he should have been more wary about than he was- all things considered. 

You looked at him shocked. "What?! No way! Not even when you were a little kid?"

He looked back at you and shook his head, "The boys home where I grew up had no time for such frivolous things. As long as the power was on, we were in school. And on the rare occasions it was knocked out, well. We had other priorities." It felt so natural, being so open with you. Maybe it was because you were always so open with him. Or maybe you were one of the few people that treated him like a person with vulnerabilities. It used to scare him, on some deeper level. It still did in a lot of ways.

Lately though, he's just grateful to have someone other than Birkin to talk to. "Captain, that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard. That's like, a super villain's backstory."

He finally turned his head to you. "What? Not being able to build a snowman?" He scoffed. You were blowing this out of proportion.

"Being a child and not being allowed to play," you clarified. Oh. He had never thought of it that way. It's not that you were wrong, he wasn’t allowed to play as a child – not really. It's just… he never really took the time to think about his childhood. He didn't like the feeling it gave him.

So he shrugged again, brushing off the memories before they had a chance to linger. "The past is the past. There's no use dwelling on it."

"Fuck that, come on!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him off the steps. He didn't even have time to fully comprehend just what was happening before you pulled him to the patch of grass the RPD called a lawn. "We're building a snowman.”

He huffed out a sorry excuse for a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious Rookie,” He said as he watched you gather the starting snowball.

“As serious as a heart attack, Captain,” you said, handing him the growing ball, “And I’m not a rookie anymore, I’ve been with S.T.A.R.S for six months now!”

He fought a small smile back at your insistence that you were – in fact – a highly trained soldier after a mere six months. “That’s still rookie status, dear.” The pet name came out so easily he hardly registered it, but you clearly did. He could tell by how you froze, your eyes widening ever so slightly. He needed a distraction. He held up the snowball, “And what do you want me to do with this?”

You relaxed as you remembered the task at hand. “Roll it around in the snow, I’m working on the base, so you work on the middle.” 

He made no move to hide his annoyance. “This is ridiculous, I want you to know this.”

“Then go home,” you shrugged. “No one’s keeping you here by force, no ones putting a gun to your head. If you don’t wanna help, you're free to go.” You acted so unbothered when you said it, focusing on growing the snowman's base. It hit a nerve in his heart he didn’t even know he had. You made it so blatantly clear that you didn’t need him there. Suddenly, the only thing he could think about was proving to you that you did need him there. 

He started wordlessly working on the middle of the snowman, trying to focus on the smile on your face and not on how ridiculous he surely looked. “That should be good,” you said, pointing to the ball he was working on. “Go ahead and put it on the base.” 

He took a second to look at the base you’d made, and the progress he made on the middle part, then got right back to adding snow. “No.”

“No, what do you mean no?” you scoffed, trying to sound offended but failing to hide your giggle.

He easily hid his smile. “It’s still too small. It would look awkward on the base, and even more so once we add the head. It needs more snow.”

“Weren’t you the one calling this all a waste of time?” you teased as you started the head.

Without missing a beat he looked at you, “It is. I stand by that. But if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.” Finally, he was satisfied with the ball of snow he’d been put in charge of, and carefully placed it on the base. 

You giggled softly, “That’s such a dad thing to say.”

“It’s just how things should be done.” He shrugged, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth putting the effort into doing it right.”

“So you admit this is worth doing?”

“What? I didn’t say that.”

“But ya kinda did,” you pointed out. “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. And you’re trying to build this snowman right, so therefore – it’s worth doing.”

Wesker took the time to think of his next words carefully. He couldn’t just say outright it was worth doing because it made you happy. Because these small moments of connection built a trust between you. One he would inevitably betray one day. 

There was that horrible tight feeling in his chest again. The one he only got when he thought about how he would have to hurt you in the future. He pressed forward, “Somethings, as frivolous as they are, can be worth doing for the greater impact they have.” You nodded sagely at his words, as if you understood perfectly. Which, was genuinely shocking because even he wasn’t entirely sure what the fuck he just said. 

Finally, you put the head on the snowman. “Well! What do you think?” You smiled, making passionate jazz hands at the snowy creation the two of you had made.

He cocked his head to the side. “Something’s missing.”

You nodded. “Yeah, we’re missing a face.”

“What do you normally use for a face?”

You shrugged, “Traditionally, kids used coal and a carrot for the face. Sticks for the arms, maybe a scarf, you get it. You’ve seen Frosty the Snowman.”

He hadn’t, but that was a battle for a different day. “Seems like a waste of a carrot. And we don’t have any coal.”

You nodded again. “Yeah, sadly. Guess our little guy will just have to remain faceless.”

No, that wasn’t good enough. Not for Wesker. If he was going to make anything, it was going to be perfect. He’d accept nothing less. He quickly looked around, searching for a suitable substitute for coal. He quickly spotted what the RPD once called a garden that was now mostly filled with snow covered rocks and made his way there. You picked up on his thought process and went to go pull sticks off of a nearby tree for the arms. 

“Hey, I found a pine cone!” You called to him as you returned.

“Excellent, we’ll use it for the nose.” He replied as you reconvened at the snowman. The two of you argued briefly about the facial expression – you insisting the snowman should be happy and him arguing it should be miserable because who wouldn’t be miserable stuck out in the snow? You countered with a snowman wouldn’t, because he’s literally made of snow and probably can’t feel cold. You won the argument. This time. 

You assembled the final touches together, then stepped back to look at your handiwork. He smiled smugly, placing his hand on your lower back to hold you closer. “Not bad for a rookie.” He said, looking at you.

You smiled back at him. “Not at all,” you said as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was the closest the two of you had ever been to each other at that point. And the closest Wesker had been to anyone in a long time. It should have felt wrong, the way it tended to when he made contact with others. Instead, it felt comfortable. Natural. Like you were always meant to be right there on his shoulder.

He looked down at you resting on him. At your snow bitten cheeks and soft, content smile. You weren’t scared, or even nervous. You weren't going out of your way to impress him, or try to demean him for an ego boost. You weren’t looking at him with unrealistic expectations he’d still manage to reach, only to remain unsatisfied with him. You were just there. Content, and smiling in his arms, happy to be with him.

You looked ethereal in the soft moonlight, the streetlights of the city encasing you in a halo. He was suddenly overtaken with the overwhelming desire to kiss you. To take you home and hold you forever. And met with the blood cooling realization that he was more than just attached to you. He was… infatuated with you. He refused to use the L word for this.

He couldn’t do that to himself. He moved away from you, a sudden movement that caught your attention. His heart sank looking at your wide questioning eyes. “Thank you, for the experience Soldier.”

You smirked, noting that he didn’t call you rookie. “Thank you for indulging me Captain.”

He nodded and patted your shoulder. “It’s late. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Bright and early,” you confirmed. The two of you lingered for a second longer, the cold silence loud with everything the two of you wanted to say. He slowly slid his hand off your shoulder, and the two of you went your separate ways.

He spiraled for a good two hours when he got home. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. How natural it was to talk to you, how nice you felt in his arms, how breathtaking you looked even covered in snow. He dreamt of you that night, and when he woke up he could still feel the warmth of your lips pressed against his. He had to take a cold shower to get his head together. 

He had never felt like this before. His entire life he was too focused on other things for crushes. On being the best student, on graduating early and getting his doctorate, on researching the virus, on surviving. He’d had lovers, sure. But he never felt anything for them, aside from sometimes lust. He never felt tight in his chest, he never dreamed of them, never in a hundred years would have entertained the thought of building a fucking snowman with them. 

What the hell did you do to him? 

He spent the next eight months obsessing over you. Meticulously observing you like he would any other specimen. He found out how you managed your workflow, the gun you preferred to use at target practice, who you got along with at the RPD and who you only tolerated, how you took your coffee in the morning. 

He noticed all the small details. He noticed the way you chewed on your lower lip when concentrating, what kind of jokes made you laugh the loudest, the way your eyes crinkled when you were genuinely smiling. He noticed that you didn’t brush his hand away when he rested it on you, unlike how you did when Brad did the same thing. How you also went out of your way to be around him, and that you were always the first to act when he gave an order. 

He knew he shouldn’t do this to himself. He knew that he should have taken a massive step back and kept your relationship strictly professional. No more late night smoke breaks, or easy conversations in the break room. If he really wanted to do himself a favor he should have found a reason to fire you, or at least have you removed from the S.T.A.R.S team. 

He never tried to do any of that, because for the first time in his life he was scared he wouldn’t be able to do something. And where did that get him?

Here. Staring at the sinking ship that was Umbrella, and knowing he needed to get off before he was dragged down with it. He needed to send the S.T.A.R.S team to the Spencer Mansion to get the combat data he needed so he could do just that. The issue was, that meant the team was probably going to die. A sacrifice he thought he was willing to make. And he was, before you happened. Now the thought of sending you into that made his jaw clench. As brilliant as he was, he couldn’t think of a way to keep you out of the situation. 

Send you home? That would never work, Bravo team was in danger. You would never just sit idly at home while your team was in trouble – an annoyingly admirable trait of yours. Order you to keep watch at the office? Nope, that wouldn’t work either. That would be the first place Umbrella went when they realized he had gone rogue. So where did that leave him? 

Sending you into the mansion. But, maybe you didn’t have to die. You were just as capable as any other member of the team- if not more. As long as he could keep you alive until it was time for the mansion to go up in smoke, he knew he could get you out of there- and come out looking like the hero in the process. 

He didn’t have time to come up with a definitive plan, this was going to have to do. As unorganized as it was, he was confident it would work. It had to work.

He didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.