#i called it pretty privilege but is it really a privilege when he tries to ruin their lives because theyre hot

[melljam]

oh my god, gun canonically favors attractive people working under him?? (chapter 270)

okaaay fine i hate logan too but thats because he’s a nasty bully!!! and because of what happened with zoe

but guns reason here is literally “he’s too ugly … he may be strong, but …. he’s just … so ugly …”

and uhmm …. what exactly it is that he is doing to “make use” of attractive faces … o_O

wait oh my god,, no wonder all of the crewheads are drop-dead gorgeous, he judges them based on their looks too

so you can fight? great. but are you hot ….? hrmm

eli being his favorite and him also having the most in-universe pretty privilege is no coincidence!!!

not surprising at all that he absolutely adores second body daniel. in addition to him being the only one who actually stands a chance against him besides goo, he’s hot! in that body, he is quite literally “perfect”

so this probably isnt the case but it would be so funny if another one of the reasons he gave samuel a second chance was simply because he’s handsome. like could you imagine …

ugh stupid loser with an inferiority complex … but he’s so good at business … and more importantly, he is just sooo stylish

ermm lookism never deviated from the theme about society judging peoples inherent value based on their physical appearance …!!!.!.!

gun was the worst lookist all along …!.!! maybe the true lookism was the successors he recruited along the way haha

[awearywritersworld]

megumi's teacher — gojo satoru x reader

tags/warnings: fluff. fem!reader. gojo beefing with an eight year old. 700 words.

ever since megumi started the second grade, it's been (l/n)-sensei this. (l/n)-sensei that.

gojo picks up megumi's favorite ice cream, only to be scolded by the young boy. "(l/n)-sensei's favorite flavor is strawberry, so that's my favorite now!"

gojo tries to help him with his math homework, and it's "(l/n)-sensei did it this way. that means you should too!"

gojo reaches down to tie megumi's shoes for him, before his hand is promptly smacked away. "(l/n)-sensei said big boys tie their own shoes!"

honestly, gojo is starting to feel a little jealous. megumi's known you for what? two months?

he's been raising megumi for the past few years, but does that earn him an ounce of the adoration the young boy seems to have for you?

apparently not, though he perseveres nonetheless.

he and megumi are spending the afternoon out in the city and they stop at a small bakery for lunch.

while megumi is distracted looking at all the sweets behind the glass counter, the bell on the door draws gojo's attention.

his eyes fall upon a pretty young woman. actually, you might just be the prettiest woman he's ever seen.

and of course, a smirk forms on his lips when he catches you looking his way. he's puffing out his chest, running a hand through his hair.

he's always had a certain effect on the ladies, and he's never been more happy about that until this very moment—

"megumi?" you call from a few feet away. the wide smile adorning your face makes you look even more radiant.

while gojo visibly deflates, megumi's head whips around at the speed of light. "(l/n)-sensei!"

oh.

gojo very quickly comes to understand why the boy is so enamored by you.

megumi launches himself at you, while you crouch to meet him with open arms.

"i'm so happy to see you!" he practically sings, clinging to your neck.

you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "i'm happy to see you too, 'gumi."

gojo clears his throat, hoping that megumi will take the chance to introduce you two, but he is completely ignored.

"what are you going to get? i'll buy it for you," he states proudly, despite having zero money of his own.

your gaze shifts to gojo for the first time, and having your attention even just for a brief moment takes his breath away.

"that's very sweet megumi, but that's alright." you ruffle his hair when he pouts at your words, standing back up. "who's this?"

"oh that's just gojo. don't worry about him," he states with a wave of his hand.

the white haired man gawks at him in response. the nerve on that kid! he silently decides megumi will be losing dessert privileges for a week. no, two.

you stifle a giggle before offering your hand to him and introducing yourself as megumi's teacher.

he repeats your name, taking satisfaction in the way it sounds rolling off his tongue.

"that's a pretty name," he compliments, trying to recover from megumi's dismissal. "heard a lot about you. in fact, the kid never shuts up about you."

this earns him a glare from megumi, but gojo is too preoccupied with the shy look that crosses your features to notice.

gojo insists on paying for your order, a show of appreciation for taking such good care of megumi in class. you chat with the pair of them for a little while longer before eventually excusing yourself.

"thank you again, gojo-san. i'll see you on monday, megumi!"

just as you're turning on your heel, gojo calls your name and you look back at him expectantly.

"when, uh," he struggles, scratching the back of his neck. "when do i get to see you?"

nice.

"oh! well, parent-teacher conferences are only a few weeks away! i'll look forward to seeing you then," you answer sweetly, misunderstanding the meaning behind his words.

you bid them goodbye once more and they both watch your figure disappear down the street.

megumi turns to look at gojo smugly. "weeks? that sounds like a really long time—"

"shut it, kid."

[yourprettylildoe]

𝒟ℯ𝓋ℴ𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃

Yandere!bodyguard

�� Money or not, he's always near.

Note: slight violence, implications of a bad relationship.

Once upon a time, you too were a little girl staring at the TV screen all starry eyed. It was a dream of yours to be like one of those lovely women living the life.

Now, you felt what it was like. Basking in the warmthness of luxury and popularity, it was all you ever wanted.

But fame had an ugly side to it.

Forget the hate — the feeling of eyes wathing your every move, picking apart your every expression to the last bit was exhausting. It was a price to pay, a fellow co-star once advised as your career shot up drastically.

Thankfully, the problem didn't really persist. Matteo was by your side. Even if he was getting paid to do so.

The bodyguard had the muscles for the job and his experience was nothing short of amazing. He worked with countless celebrities bigger than you ever would be. Though, that is the bit that confused you. Why would he settle for you? A big name in the fim industry did offer him a job that paid twice than what you did.

He was doing this for the money...

...right?

♡

"Matteo," you sung softly from behind the curtain. Currently, you were at a store and trying on some outfits.

"Yes, ma'am?" Matteo replied, carrying designer bags on both arms.

Strutting out, you twirled around in the dress. It was a pretty blue colour that fitted you perfectly, almost made specifically for you. He swallowed, throat going dry.

You gushed, "Oh, isn't this perfect? I just have to get it. What do you think?"

His mind went a little fuzzy at that, his heart beating thump thump against his chest. Almost as if he forgot how to speak.

No one could rival a sight like yours, and he's seen lots of sights ever since he decided to protect famous figures worldwide from his youth. However, you carried a charisma, an air about you that was so...enticing.

Was it an exaggeration? No.

Well, was it an understatement? 100%.

Before Matteo could even process the overwhelming feelings all at once, your concerned face came into view. "Are you okay?"

Almost frantically, he nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

The baby blue dress bounced up and down as you beamed, amusement creeping nto your tone.

"Do you not think my dress looks nice?"

How could you even think that? Just seeing you like this made him so giddy like a schoolgirl, because you were trying on dresses for him. It was a privilege.

"N-no, ma'am, it's so..." Matteo breathed out, "...beautiful."

"Then I'll get the dress! It's not everyday you call something beautiful, 'teo!" You clapped your hands, disappearing back into the dressing room and not giving him time to even react at yiur careful consideration of his opinion.

A smile grew upon his lips as heat rushed to his cheeks and the area downwards.

For the first time in all his years of looming over his clients like a shadow, he never felt wanted, the relationships consisting of professional contracts.

He wouldn't get a single cent and still thank you for letting him protect you.

You got him in too deep. Suffer the consequences of your actions.

Surely, keeping him around meant something?

♡

The car halted in front of the gala.

Perched on the backseat, you wore the pretty blue dress along with your hair and makeup styled to match.

Matteo stared longingly at you through the rear-view mirror. Your pouty lips were coated in gloss, a forbidden place he'd never touch but only look

He cleared his throat. "Ready to go in, ma'am?"

With a nod, you both walked into the event. A bombshell and the striking wolf behind her.

Familiar faces painted on forced smiles as they mingled, paparazzi's cameras flickering constantly.

You were the only authentic one.

"Oh, y/n, I just adore your outfit." A woman who walked up to you complimented.

As you thanked her, Matteo watched like a hawk. He couldn't afford any risks especially when someone tried to slip someting in your drink right in front of him last time.

Amidst the crowd, you both failed to notice some of the paparazzi's attention zeroing in on your bodyguard's intense eyes thay never left you.

Click.

It would make a good story.

All it took was one, stupid glance away, then you vanished out of thin air.

Everything went downhill from there.

Like a rabid dog, Matteo tore through the sea of people, his eyes looking around for your gorgeous, unmistakable features.

Where are you?

You can't go. A dog can't be left alone without his owner.

Please be okay.

♡

You were not okay.

"C'mon, honey, I know you want this too!" That disgusting voice pleaded, paired with a sleazy grin.

Your imbecile of an ex boyfriend couldn't seem to take a hint.

Over a year ago, you had to leave the toxic relationship. Along with being a professional cheater, he also seemed to have a masters in manipulation and narcissism. Now, you were stuck with him in a secluded area. Great.

Frantically, you looked around for Mattheo. Surely, he'd be here any minute. Did he not notice your absence?

"Get off of me! I told you I don't want to see you ever again!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking at the end and making you sound so weak.

All it took was a moment of vunerability for him to go absolutely condescending on you, "I missed you too, babe. Stop playing and let's go back to the way we were." You smelt alchohol on his breath, dread filling your stomach. He got the scariest when drunk.

No matter how much you pulled your wrist out of his grasp, he didn't budge. Were the endless articles about your breakup that went on for months not enough to drive him away?

"Leave me alone!"

"Babe, don't play hard to get."

"No, I'm not, go away."

"You are. Let's go ho-"

"No!"

Without thinking, your hand connected with his cheek, leaving a pink mark in its wake.

Slowly, he reached up to touch it in shock, his dumb gaze flickering from you to his hand on his face. Then, those eyes went absolutely feral.

Almost instantly, he pushed you to the floor, making you hit your side with a wince.

In a terrifying voice, he snarled: "Disgusting woman. I don't know what I even saw in a girl like you who thinks she's all that. Ungrateful."

This is what happened every time. It was like a cycle that no matter how much you tried to break, it managed to suck you back into the same scenario with new blooming bruises to match the old ones.

"I should teach you a lesson. Put you back in your place, what do ya think?

Tears filled your eyes as you peered up at him, "p-please no-"

"Shut up!" He barked, "how annoying can you be? I should get it over with, maybe you'll thank me for it someday."

You raised a hand to cover yourself from the-

A certain force collided into his body.

The two figures tumbled to the ground. Wide, almost insane eyes peered into your ex's.

Matteo. He never looked this terrifying, almost possessed.

Over and over again, the guy received punches like hammers to the point where he almost looked unrecognisable. In that moment, all he saw was red.

"You think you can touch her and can get away with it? You don't even deserve to breathe the same air as her, damn it!" Your guard dog snarled, his teeth bared.

The only things that stopped him from killing the pig were the people who held him back, otherwise Mattheo would be in prison. However, it was still a struggle to hold back the muscular hulk.

Matteo glared while he struggled, "If she wasn't here, you'd be six feet under by now."

His fists shook as the voices inside him demanded more.

Kill him.

Kill him.

He touched your girl.

Snapping out of it, he looked over to where you were curled up against the floor, pitiful sobs escaping your lips. Poor thing.

A silhouette crouched down to your level, despite it still towering over you.

The familiar hands, now coated in blood, cupped your face. "Don't cry. See? I took care of him. The punk doesn't deserve your tears."

Your face was tilted up, your teary eyes framed by the smudged eye makeup.

He brought your shivering form to his chest, nose buried in your hair. Your arms wrapped around him, sobbing into his chest, the safe haven you found solace in.

"You should know by now I'd do anything to protect you."

That was a promise he kept and intended to still keep. Even if he wanted to break it, he couldn't.

After all, loyalty was burned and embedded into his soul, like the devoted man he'll always be.

♡

𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎

@yourprettylildoe

[sqtorux]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[asidian]

I've seen a lot of really excellent analysis on Charles' reaction to Edwin's confession, but there's a huge aspect that I haven't seen talked about at all yet. And that is, namely:

Charles Rowland is a people-pleaser.

Doesn't seem like there's a connection there, does it? Have a seat, my friends. Let me break this down.

The show lays the groundwork for this aspect of Charles' personality early. It's one of the very first things we learn about him, in fact. He's kind and agreeable and helpful, and he's always, always smiling. When Crystal insults him, he laughs it off. When Crystal and Edwin fight, he scrambles to diffuse the situation. He calls himself "a good sort of a chap," and it's important to him that he is.

In episode 3, we find out why. At home, love was always conditional for him. He spent his entire life trying to please his father, and he confesses to Crystal that no matter how nice he was, or how good at sports, it was never enough. That's how Charles sees the world. If he can make people happy, he might actually be good enough for them to love him.

Not only didn't he earn his father's affection, he didn't even manage, in his own eyes, to clear the low bar of being good enough to earn the privilege of not being hurt. And his mother, he says, was "quiet." From the flashback we see, she never stepped in for him or defended him. However hard he was trying, it wasn't enough to get her to intervene on his behalf.

So who else does he have? His "friends"? The ones who literally murder him when he steps in to stop them from doing a terrible thing? The act he put on wasn't enough to win them over in the end, either. However friendly he was, however personable, they turned on him and left him for dead.

Then he meets Edwin.

And when he meets Edwin, he's at his absolute lowest. He's not smiling and putting on a show, for once. He's in a corner of an attic cowering while he slowly freezes to death. But here comes Edwin, offering him kindness, and company, and comfort.

All these things that Charles has spent his whole life chasing, trying to be good enough to earn? Edwin just gives them to him.

Of course he stays with this boy. Edwin is there when he's lost in the dark, shining a light to guide the way. Edwin has seen him unsmiling and afraid, not a shred of his usual act in place, and Edwin has offered him kindness anyway.

So they begin their time together. And what are the things Charles will pick up on almost immediately?

Edwin says right away that he's spent ages in hell. He's plainly had an awful time. He doesn't know how to handle people anymore, but Charles, he knows how to be amiable, how to smile, how to offer levity when things get grim.

So he does. He falls back into what he thinks Edwin needs, the way he always tried to be what his father wanted to see. In the very first episode, he tells Crystal, "I try to be extra happy for all of us, don't I? And I do a pretty good job."

He doesn't ever discuss his own trauma because these boys are terrible at communication, but more than that. He doesn't ever bring it up because he's busy being the support he thinks Edwin needs.

And importantly, Charles doesn't have the self-reflection skills to realize that's what he's doing. Crystal clocks him with shocking accuracy, three episodes in. "He's been hiding it from you," she tells Edwin. "Probably been hiding it from himself." She's spot-on here: when Charles doesn't want to examine his own emotions, or can't face them, he shoves them down under a smile and he carries on pretending.

But that's not the only thing Charles will have picked up on from Edwin.

It's blindingly obvious that Edwin is bad at people. He's terribly repressed. He's from a culture in which emotional honesty and physical affection were not valued or encouraged. But more than any of that, Edwin has his sexual awakening during the events of the show. Before then, he is absolutely clueless about his own wants.

So we have a situation where a consummate people-pleaser who has spent his entire life learning that he has to earn affection finds his way into a friendship with the first person who ever saw him with his mask down and gave him kindness anyway.

Of course he stays with this boy. Of course he wants to keep this.

And what's the best way Charles knows to win someone over? Well, by being what he thinks they want.

So, out come the smiles, for Edwin's sake as much as his own. But more importantly, out comes whatever Charles thinks he needs to perform, in order to keep what is the single most important relationship in his entire life and afterlife.

At this point, Edwin has shown zero romantic or sexual interest, not just in Charles, but in anyone at all. He doesn't especially seem inclined to dating, or to romance, or even to physical affection.

So Charles takes his cues from Edwin, and the cues are very firmly, for thirty years: this boy doesn't have a glimmer of interest in him, not that way.

Fast-forward to the events of the show. Fast-forward to a staircase in hell, where they are being chased by a literal demon. Suddenly his best mate, who he has spent thirty years with, who is his most important person in the world, is saying that he's in love with him.

Of course he needs a minute. Of course he has to sort that through. Any feelings he has for Edwin are things that he has spent literal decades firmly ignoring in the scramble to try and earn affection by being what he thinks Edwin needs him to be.

Because Charles is a people-pleaser at heart. And he may be dreadful at self-reflection, but he is aces at hiding things from himself.

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — eight: you’re fucked (literally)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

warnings. SMUT, lots of cursing, hee has jealousy issues??

masterlist | previous | next

It seems like no matter what you did, how hard you tried—you could never beat Pham Hanni.

You shove your books into your locker angrily, slamming it shut, flinching when you see Lee Heeseung’s face right next to your locker.

“What the hell?” You say, arms coming around to cross themselves in front of your chest. “Well, aren’t you gonna say anything?”

“You’re hanging out with Sunghoon now?” He cuts you off.

“What?”

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, and you could clearly see he’s annoyed.

“I have his location and I saw your story. Youngsook’s Bar, really?”

“Why does it matter?” You say exasperatedly, hurrying away from him.

He follows you, pulling you to a empty classroom. It was lunch, and you knew Giselle and Yujin would be looking for you soon.

“Huh?” You poke his chest with your index finger. “It’s not like we’re anything Heeseung.”

He scoffs at your words, and you raise your eyebrows at that. Why did Heeseung care so much? It’s true, you weren’t a thing. Not when he was out there calling other girls pretty like his life depended on it.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, instead, pressing his lips on you hungrily.

He pulls away, and the both of you quickly catch up to your own breaths.

“Jump.”

You don’t need him to repeat, immediately wrapping your legs around him as you sit on the table.

He places warm kisses on your neck, making you let out small whines.

“Hurry up already, Heeseung.” You say impatiently.

“So bossy,” he mutters.

He pulls his own trousers down, which reveals his veiny and practically red tip. Pulling your skirt up and sliding your panties to the side, he pushes himself in.

“Missed me?” He says against your ear, and you almost want to push him away.

“Cocky for someone who pulled me in a classroom for a quickie,” you manage to groan out, too engrossed in how good Heeseung truly makes you feel.

“Why can’t you just stay away from Sunghoon?” Heeseung says through jagged breaths. “Huh? He’s bad news.”

“He’s your friend.” You remind him.

“Both statements are true,” he smirks. “Enjoying yourself, Y/N?”

“Are you this egoistic with every other girl you fuck?” You ask, a moan from your throat interrupting your sentence. “You—you sure love calling other girls pretty don’t you.”

“Pretty girls are pretty girls,” he says, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. His hips still don’t stutter, snapping recklessly into yours. “Are you jealous? Is this because of Hanni’s post?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, looking up at the ceiling.

“You know Hanni and I aren’t exclusive. I told you after the first time we slept together.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

He scoffs once again at your words, eyebrows furrowing. “Everybody with eyes can see Hanni wants Sunghoon, not me. It’s never been about me.”

Despite Heeseung talking about another girl while fucking you, it didn’t turn you off. Instead, you feel a weird sense of sadness for him. Call it you being an empath, but it was true.

Heeseung halts, a loud but subtle groan falls from his lips. You suddenly feel a warmth inside of you, shuddering as you too came to your own high.

He pulls out, staring at you as he removes more of the sticky hair that stuck to the side of your face.

“Are you going to clean me up or are you gonna keep staring?” You quirk.

He lets out a small laugh. “Whatever the princess wants.”

He grabs tissues from his backpack, cleaning you up before pulling your skirt back up.

“Seojun’s hosting a gala this weekend,” Heeseung says, fixing his uniform. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Already falling inlove with me?”

He scratches his neck sheepishly, and you can’t believe this is the same guy that just rearranged your guts earlier.

“I need a date, and I really don’t want Minha from Physics to ask me.”

You roll your eyes, but know you have to agree. Maybe you could find something in Seojun’s house that you could use as evidence against his father.

The two of you leave the classroom, quietly closing the door behind you.

When you turned around, your body practically jolts as it sees Park Sunghoon looking unimpressed outside.

“What are the two of you up to?” He asks with a questioning look.

“Nothing man,” Heeseung replies with, giving a small smile to the boy, who looked like he was unconvinced and quite frankly, disgusted by the two of you.

“Whatever,” he says, finally dropping the topic. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Hee.”

He leaves, a small proud smile settling on his face. Heeseung looked like he wanted to say something, but decided it wasn’t worth it. After all, he was going to see the rest of them at the gala anyway, and more drama would end horribly wrong.

“Don’t you have literature next?” He asks you.

You nod.

“C’mon then, I’ll walk you.”

AUTHOR’s NOTE: don’t be like yn and hee guys, wrap it before u tap it! anyway, first chapter with actual smut LOL new character introduced 🫣

taglist 1 (closed) @lilyuwon @soobeboobe @immelissaaa @coqhee @shuichi-sama @ssukiyakii @deobitifull @sunpov @anittamaxwynnn @minjaexvz @katarinamae @capri-cuntz @jooniesbears-blog @sakanelli-afc @lvlyjisung @cherlv @mnxnii @llvrhee @b0bbl3s @lwavander @txtlyn @heartheejake @realrintaro @wonyoungvirus @hyuckies18 @thinkinboutbin @yoonjise @rikizm @cinnamon-won @samouryed @moon4moony @jakesfurry @yunjinhuhjennifer @viagumi @rikisly @rikisnotforsale @heart4hees @jjklvr9 @loviwon @rik1zzluv @skzenhalove @jaehoonii @j5yy @tnazips @taeyoonga @jakeyverse @urfavouriteanon @whos-viviann @luvrseung @haeeeeefer

[chaussetteblanche]

I know it;s barely been posted yesterday, but I definitely need more Jason x biker!reader.

Wonder how it will go on :D

A/N : thanks for the request babes !! and thanks for you patience, this was a while ago !

Jason todd is a doberman boyfriend

he definitely loves going on rides with you

he thinks it's the peak of romance

he might slap your ass if he gets the chance

if you guys have your bluetooth connected, he's constantly telling you how good you look on your bike

"holy shit, your ass looks great from back here,"

"damn, you looked really good while passing that car, babe,"

"you know what you'd look even better riding?"

he'd drive in front of you if having him behind you made you nervous, but he would prefer to be behind, as to be able to have more control on any situation which might arise

he's a doberman boyfriend

and a mirror smashing king

when you're riding, he usually prefers to stay behind you so he can keep an eye on you

if you've seen those tiktoks of people defending their friends on bikes by chasing after cars, smashing mirrors or that kind of shit > 100% Jason

he might chase after a car if it cut you off, tried to merge into you, drove too close to you,... basically if it did anything to disrespect you or put you in unnecessary danger

sometimes that pisses you off though, you're a strong person and you can handle your shit, but he likes to handle it for you

let's say a car tries to merge into your lane and barely misses you because you swerve

and on top of being scared for your life, you're angry, so you start gesticulating around, telling the guy (because of course it's man) to roll down his window so you can yell at him

and he does, but only to flip you off

you decide it's not worth it and speed up to not have to deal with him anymore, telling Jason through your helmets

but Jason has other things in mind

bad, violent, illegal things

picture this huge pile of muscle of a man on an equally huge and scary bike slowly pull up next to you on the highway, murder on his mind

let's be real, the guy is most likely still going to therapy because of this encounter

but Jason sees red, this man put you in danger, and if you hadn't reacted and gotten out of the way- Jason doesn't want to think about that

and on top of that, he'd disrespected you

Jason can't let that slide, so he pulls up next to the car, glowers at the driver through his mirrored visor before tearing his side mirror off and smashing it into the car's window

the driver panics, starts screaming at Jason that he's totally crazy and that he's going to call the cops

Jason grins because both of you have your plates tucked, shaking his head

he finally catches up with you, tapping your ass lovingly as he passes by you

you didn't see what Jason did because you were busy filtering through trafic and trying to calm down

"did you see that guy?" you ask hotly, ranting about how dangerous it all was

"he's taken care of, sweets, don't worry your pretty head about it,"

"oh god, Jason, what did you do?"

he just smiles, feeling good about keeping you safe on and off the road

with him, you get scary dog privileges wherever you go, big doberman bf vibes

just imagine you, happily walking around shopping or whatever and this 6 foot something mountain behind you, glaring at everybody who dares to breathe in your direction

he definitely carries everything, especially your helmet if you guys go and have went somewhere together on your bikes, he’s got huge hands and has this special way of carrying both your helmets in one hand (it's so he can hold your hand with the other)

loves having you as a backpack

loves being your backpack too, although he’s definitely handsy, but only when you’re stopped though !!! he would never put you in any sort of danger !!!

but yeah, if you have boobs, he might grab them at a red light (if you don't, no worries, he'll find something else to grab)

he will come pick you up anywhere, anytime, just say the word and he is there (in record time too)(google maps hates him)

will carry your helmet around his arm for literal miles, even though it’s really heavy and uncomfortable, just so you can backpack

helmet kisses, all the time

he definitely goofs around at long red lights and will come up and hump your bike out of nowhere

of course, everybody is looking and you’re just 😑

if you ride a bike but know nothing about bikes (me) he will be your mechanician, garage guy, therapist and more

bike won't start ? call Jason

bike making weird noises ? show Jason

bike needs any kind of service of fixing ? Jason is already there, doing it for you

this is all I have for now, but feel free to request more stuff :)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Dark! Yandere! Leon Kennedy Headcanons

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Possessive Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Mention of Plotting, Mentions of Smut, Non-Explicit Depictions of Smut, Mention of Dirty Talk, Mention of Overstimulation, Mention of Choking, Mention of Power Imbalance, Mention of Manhandling, Mention of Aftercare, Dominant! Leon, Rough Leon, Feral Leon, Paranoid Leon, Leon just wants Validation <3, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You'.

SFW

Possessive doesn’t even begin to describe how Leon acts around you.

Territorial may be how you describe him to your friends – a compliment, really.

But the fact that he never lets you out of his sight and worries about you whenever you’re not in his immediate vicinity is…telling, to say the least.

Calls you every 30 minutes on the rare occasion that you’re not together.

“Are you okay ?”, “Are you hurt ?”, “Do you need me to come over ?”

Paranoid aaah Leon.

But he means well – you know that much.

Once, you joked that the two of you “Might as well move in together if we’re going to talk this much !”

And that started putting ideas in Leon’s head.

He does have the notion of staging a break-in at your current home address so that you’ll feel unsafe and be more likely to move in with him.

But he doesn’t want you being traumatised like he is. Not by his hand.

But can you blame his rather questionable behaviour ?

After everything he went through in RE2 and RE4, you’d have been surprised if he didn’t turn out the way he had.

Despite all that, he’s a good boyfriend :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, without question.

Scarily loyal.

And he expects you to be the same.

That being said, he doesn’t get jealous, as such.

Rather, he believes that the guy who’s been glancing at you every minute or so is planning on attacking you.

Not on Leon’s watch.

Scary dog privilege. Though your ‘scary dog’ is rather pretty; he just has an intimidating glare and figure.

Due to this paranoia and constant anxiety about your health and wellbeing, Yandere! Leon prefers an S/O who’s reclusive, one that doesn’t venture beyond their home very often.

It makes it easier for him to survey you, makes him feel more at ease knowing that you’re tucked away someplace safe.

Well, not entirely safe. Leon firmly believes that you can never be entirely avoidant of disaster unless you’re with him 24/7.

Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Leon has a *sliiight* saviour complex.

He wants to feel strong and dependable – to counteract all that the events of RE2 forced him to feel.

While this manifests in his wild daydreams about saving you from some undead horror straight out of a zombie movie (or real life, in Leon’s case), this manifests in more subtle situations in your day-to-day life.

He’ll open a jar for you, or reach something off the top shelf (regardless of whether you can reach it or not).

Don’t ask how he knew you were going to have trouble opening that particular jar, or that you wouldn’t reach your favourite mug that was placed a few shelves higher than it was yesterday.

It makes his chest swell with pride and strokes his ego.

But, as much as Leon likes it when you’re dependent on him, he does want you to have a fighting chance if the unthinkable should happen – that he’s not around to save you.

He tries teaching you self-defence, which, while you appreciate the thought, you tell him is unnecessary.

Yes, you know (vaguely) about what happened during Leon’s missions (though he is typically quite scant on the specifics, not wanting to worry you or drive you from him, as selfish as he believes that desire is).

But when you tell him that “I don’t need to know self-defence,” and Leon, cautious, asks ‘why ?’ you hit him with an answer far better than anything he’s fantasised about. And trust when I say that Leon has fantasised about you. A lot.

“Because I have you to protect me !”

As well-intentioned and innocent as your statement is, something within Leon breaks. Snaps.

NSFW

He has you under him quicker than you can blink.

His territorial, possessive nature filters through into the way he claims you – marks you.

He doesn’t bite you, though.

Years of trauma with the snapping jaws of zombies has put him off the idea.

But he sucks bruises into your skin, goes harder than intended when he turns feral, gripping your thighs, your arms, your sides – anything accessible to him.

And though he tries his best never to hurt you, he does end up losing himself whenever he gets like this.

Not that you mind.

His lips dip beside your head, and you can hear him say “You’re mine. All mine,” as he holds your body hostage.

He has a lot of endurance and an abundance of excess energy (usually emotional), so he ends up overstimulating you a good deal of the time.

Just pounding into you long after you’ve finished, his face buried into your neck, breathing becoming uneven as he works another euphoric release out of the both of you.

Say his name and he’ll go wild.

“Say it again,” he pants, his chest to yours as he takes you. “Tell me I’m the only one who can protect you – the only one who– aah! –you love–”

I understand why people say Leon’s a switch with bottom lean, but consider that time in RE4 when he said that “Following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style,”

You can’t say that there isn’t at least a remnant of top energy in there.

Hence, Leon – at the very least Yandere! Leon – can be quite…dominant.

As evidenced above.

Also evidenced by the fact that he gets off on the fact you’re weaker or smaller than him.

Doesn’t matter how tall you are, how much muscle you have; Leon is stronger both mentally and physically.

Though, this is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. But he has no problem letting you know what he’s thinking.

“God, you’re so weak,” he says, voice straining with his release hanging over him.

“Say it – say you need me; that I’m the only one who can take care of you, who can make you cry like this,”

Maybe he grabs you by the throat. Maybe he chokes you a little when you’re taking too long to answer.

But, regardless of how rough he can get, Leon is a certified King of Aftercare™.

Feels absolutely abysmal if he thinks he’s hurt you, or pushed you too far.

And your part of the aftercare is purely emotional. You have to convince him that you’re fine, you’re happy. And maybe enjoyed being manhandled a little…

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | teaser

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 465 for the teaser, overall wordcount tbd ➥ overall warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap (i hc reader to be late 20s but i tried to leave it vague enough), cowgirl position, biting, hair pulling, choking, squirting, teasing, pining, lipstick kink, breast/nipple play, masturbation (m), porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, coop's pov to start - rest of the fic will be in reader's, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | "We really s-shouldn't - oh fuck - be doing this." ➥ notes | here's a teaser for the fic i took a poll on, some people wanted more info 😊 coop is a big dick dilf fite me. feedback is always appreciated ❤️ lmk if you want to be tagged feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

Ugliest thing in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say.

It's not like being a Marine with a gun in hand, being told where to point and shoot, or an actor reading off a script. There's no guidebook, no crash course. These people aren't nameless threats coasts away or co-workers following a cue.

In fact, his 'enemies' aren't enemies at all.

They have names: Barb, so smart it hurts, and sweet little Janey, his very own North star. Sometimes looking at them rips open a hole in his chest that'll never close, edges jagged and sore. The phantoms of family, of happier times, found in the glint of a smile or a peal of laughter.

See, war's something he understands. Something he's good at.

But these domestic battlefields where he's gotta look his ex-wife in the face, and struggle to meet his daughter's eye? Barter this weekend and that holiday? To pay for the privilege of his child's presence (he does, he will, she's worth every goddamn cent he's ever made)?

To look down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman he loves staring back; he doesn't, can't, comprehend that. Because once upon a time, he was happy (with her) and life was sweeter than pie.

Now he's nothing but a washed up actor who struggles to land a call back let alone make his monthly alimonies. His marriage has failed, his reputation is in shambles, and his bank account is dryer than the Mojave.

Barb gets the house. He gets the dog.

And caught in the middle of it all is his little girl; the only thing he’s got left worth while. He wants to protect her, provide for her the way she deserves — only he seems to fall short every goddamn time.

The mistakes and missteps keep stacking up against him; such is his new life in all its raw, unglamorous glory.

Look how far the mighty fall.

Lucky for him — the first bright thing that's come his way in a long, long while — a sweet, young woman moves into the apartment next door. Of course, it isn't long before Janey takes a shine, always so friendly.

Thankfully, you're just as good with her.

It only makes sense you'd watch her when a gig runs late. Rustle up some grub and put her to bed whenever he slinks in through the door, stripped to the bone.

And if he takes himself in hand late at night, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress? Imagines the wide stretch of your lush mouth as you peer up at him from between his thighs when he cums hard?

Well, what you don't know won't hurt you.

After all, he promises to keep his hands to himself.

part 01 of full fic

[tojisun]

going feral for toxic!biker!simon or dbf!biker!simon grrrgrrrawrarrara

hhhhhehehe im going feral too omggg!!! and im sorry for how late i replied to this 😭 i was spiralling when i saw it and i couldn’t contain the desire i have for this man ahhhhhh

this got too long (and dark) and i made simon an ass so im sorry! i was hit with a writing bug and i never looked back

!! brief smut - minors dni; age gap (40s vs 20s); dad’s best friend!simon; power imbalance; toxic relationship // biker!simon mlist

the attraction had been one-sided, you know that, so you wonder why simon's come to reciprocating your affections like this – spoiling you in front of his friends, the ones that you know he kept separate from his and your dad’s usual circle, and lovingly calling you his.

-

simon sent you the message at three in the morning, when you were still asleep, and it read: I’m picking you up tonight. Dress cutely, you’re meeting friends.

you replied back, asking him what he meant or even where you two were going, but simon had gone back to giving you radio silence, pretending that your messages aren’t coming in. your heart broke but it wasn't like it was anything new – simon offered pieces of himself to you, sometimes as a reward and sometimes as an apology, and you always foolishly thanked him.

then when you ask for more, he pulls away, giving you silence and letting you stew in his sudden detachment. so really, it shouldn't have been a surprise to you anymore. still, you laid on your bed, blinking up at the ceiling as you tried not to drown in the weight of your sorrow.

which is why this is new. unusual, even for simon.

he picked you up from your dorms just like he said, although you were surprised to see him roll in on his bike. he never let you on his bike, always choosing his car when picking you up. you fooled yourself into thinking it was for your safety, that it was for your own good, but you've seen simon bring dates on his bike.

you've seen how he's always brought extra helmets for the pretty dolls he proudly flaunted around whenever your parents invited friends for parties and dinners, possessive arm curled around their waist like he wants to brand his claim on them. or how he's always ignored you when they're around, his attention so sinfully glued to his dates like a man starved of affection. or how he'll sit back and watch as they pat your head and pinch your cheeks because, “well, aren't you a sweetheart?”

simon's bikes are reserved for the people he brings home. people he fucks. so it was never extended towards you. never something you had the privilege to, until tonight apparently.

“simon?” you asked, hesitating to climb up behind him.

simon grunted, twisting until he could see you and you watch yourself from the visor – wide eyes and tensed shoulders – as simon tipped his head down just enough to study the way your pretty dress fluttered as the wind blew. you did not hear it but you've seen the way his chest moved as he sighed. instantly, you felt like a bother, and you curled further into yourself as though it could hide you from his knowing eyes.

he lifted himself from his bike before turning to walk towards you. you averted your eyes from him even though his visor was still up – yet another wall that kept you away from him – before seeing scuffed boots stop just in front of you.

“look up f'r me, kid.”

you did as he told, your eyes flicking up and peering through your lashes. simon's still helmeted, still distancing himself from you, and you wondered what sick power play was he trying to accomplish.

you twisted your fingers together, waiting, obedient – just like how he wants them – even when you simmered in the heavy silence, until simon began to strip his jacket off.

you felt lightheaded, your throat parched with a sudden thirst at seeing the inked arms you have been shamefully daydreaming about. he has a new tattoo, you realized as you trailed curious glances over the fresh ink but not able to properly see it for what it was.

simon huffed a laugh and you startled, blinking up at him again only to realize that he's moved so close – closer than what he's ever allowed before. you stammered on your words, glossy lips parting in surprise, but simon remained unmoved by your clear interest and began to tie his jacket around your waist in silence, tucking your skirt underneath and securing the sleeves tightly.

“there,” he said, his voice a muffled rumble. “now y'r ready for the ride.”

you trembled at the sinking reality; that what had been daydreams and wishful thinking were now laid before you. you bit your lip to stop a sniffle because there simon was, holding your hand throughout as he hefted you on his bike. you felt overwhelmed with the intensity of your affections, trailing your eyes away from him again when he fixed a spare helmet on your head. you jolt when he snapped the visor down, and simon laughed, a pretty muffled sound.

you watched as he climbed in front of you, shaking hands unsure as they held onto his hips. simon, of course, noticed.

“y've gotta hold on tighter, sweet girl,” he said before tugging at your hands and wrapping them around himself. you bit down a broken squeal, feeling jumpy now that you're actually touching him. the purr of his engine blanketed your spiralling thoughts and you held him tighter when he drove off.

-

“why, aren't you a bonnie lass?” johnny, the one who had been too excited at meeting you, says before snorting when it makes simon wrap his arm around you tighter, pulling you ever so closer to him. “and big man's too possessive, isn't he?”

simon grunts from beside you, taking over when you continued to blink at him in shocked silence. “well, y'said it already, johnny.” you freeze when you feel his lips press on the top of your head. “my girl's too pretty, it's making me greedy.”

your breath hitches, your fingers twitching in phantom desire to fist at your dress if only to ground yourself. my girl, simon said, the lies slipping past his lips easily. my girl, he told his friends as though it is the truth. as though you could ever be.

simon’s hand glides down to your hips, squeezing the flesh, and it makes you squeak. both him and johnny croon, flashing matching grins at each other like you’re not there, while simon’s other friends – kyle, the youngest, and john, the one with a storm hidden in his eyes – snicker to each other.

“little mousy, isn’t she?” john asks, the rumble of his voice stark even amidst the booming music filling up the packed space of the bar.

simon hums, still caressing your hip, his hand occasionally dipping towards the side of your thigh, teasing the hems of your dress, before tugging upwards again.

“she is and it’s endearin’,” simon replies, still continuing the facade. because what else could it be?

simon had given you bits of his attention, entertaining you just enough that you keep running after him and chasing the softness you know he has, but he’s never given more. not an honest touch nor a whisper of affection.

so this – whatever this is – makes you tremble. it makes you ache.

you cross your legs together, squeezing just enough to put pressure in your throbbing core. the action was smooth, almost unnoticeable, and it should’ve been, but simon’s trained eyes catch the movement anyway.

he lets out a quiet groan, the sound bundled around a tinge of pleasure as he presses his lips on the top of your head again. you gasp at having been caught, bright eyes flicking up to see if his friends had noticed but johnny’s body is already turned towards a pretty brunette and kyle is tapping on his phone and-

oh.

john’s eyes are on you.

there is a moment when you are reduced to cold dread and static, lost in the smoke hidden within john’s eyes and simon’s possessive touch, before the band snaps and by then, you are on your feet. the action causes the empty beer bottles to clatter against the table which snag the attention of johnny and kyle, but you ignore them all as you sidle away from simon’s side, batting away his outstretched hand, before bolting towards the washroom.

you feel like a fool. like a doll made to entertain their sick and twisted games because that is what it is, isn’t it? simon got too bored with his dates and decided to string you along – someone easy. someone desperate for all he can give.

your eyes blur as tears pool and you barely make it to the bathroom when a hand curls around your wrist, yanking you away from the door.

“kid, stop-”

“no!” you scream, whirling around to look at simon. big and beautiful and not-yours simon. “i’m tired of playing your sick games, si. get away from me!” you try to shake him off even though you know it is futile.

simon continues to stare down at you, his lips pinched in disappointment – a look you are too familiar with.

and it’s that which makes you cry, a broken sob ripping from your throat and into the space between you two. you had hoped at least that the loud bass booming across the bar could drown it out, but you hear your whimper ring amidst the noise. jesus.

simon continues staring. continues to be silent. you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

(more. gods, you can take more as long as he allows you. as long as he is in your life. you know whatever this is between you and simon have long sizzled into something toxic. something codependent. but you need him, no matter how twisted he’s become because simon indulges you, anyway.

you remember the quickies in the bathrooms. the rumble of, “y’r doin’ so good f’r me, sweet girl,” whispered on the top of your head as he fucks his fingers into you. the marking, the nipping. the praises. the growled, “y’r only mine, aren’t you, pretty?” when he licks along your slit.

simon gives in a way that teases the yawning in your soul. in a way that carves more of himself into your very being. so how could you let go? how could you move on?)

simon tugs you towards him and you follow on unsteady feet. he wraps you in his arms, his lips falling onto your forehead. he breathes you in and you crumble, nuzzling your face into his scent – leather and ozone and forest.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks.

you sniffle. “can i come home with you today?”

and simon stays silent, backing away just enough to tug you out of the bar and towards his bike. your lips wobble but you do not ask again, not when you know you can’t come back with him to his place.

the cold wind isn’t all that makes you tremble.

RUNNING AWAY WHOOP WHOOP!! update: it’s now edited <33 yippeee

[chlmtsdoll]

omg i kinda need a fic of babysugar!reader getting corrupted by patrick alone bcs their tension is js amazing 😩 like yes pls tease her more when art and tashi is away…. god knows what happen

Loveddd writing that tension in nothing without you omg ur so right anon. What could happen when mean Patrick gets poor reader all alone ? Hmmm…

౨ৎ warnings: 18 + smut, p in v (unprotected sex), oral (m reviving), degradation kink, manipulation and heavy corruption, teasing, mentions of Art and Tashi throughout, short reader (size kink 🎀)

You begged Art and Tashi every day prior to the tennis awards ceremony to let you be their plus one for the night even if it was just once. You’d never got to get as pretty as you did for them to the outer public all too often, when you had really been just their own little secret for when the cameras were away and the couple was safe at home.

So you should of known better that you, their adorned little sugar baby, would be left alone for the night — but fortunately, with the keys to their estate in New Rochelle.

Having the place all to yourself was a apart of the allowance the couple gave you when they had to attend to press conferences or tournaments they had limited space to bring you along. And you never complained when the grounds of their beautiful mansion was left to you to do anything you wanted or absolutely nothing for however long they’d be gone.

And with the silence that coursed through the place — most girls your age with the privilege would throw parties or call up friends to fuck up the gorgeous abode. But not you. You’d stay put on the couch, being as pleasant as ever. Never making a mess, and only ever watching movies if you weren’t studying for upcoming midterms.

You were so good for Art and Tashi, so much to you’d almost forgotten the words of ‘left a little surprise for you on the guest bed.. just for when we get back.” Art mentioned to you with a dotting wink and smirk to what could be waiting for you before fixing his tie to run out with his wife. Even the thought of those little gestures of how they’d spoil you, come home to play with their perfect girl, seeing you all dolled up waiting for them at home made you flustered to your core even in the empty house.

You’d been ready to run upstairs just to see what it was Art had left for you — but that being just before there was a disturbance brought to the front door.

When you got up and tucked your feet into your slippers before minding to get it, you undid all the locks on the grand door. Letting the breeze in with a swing, your eyes went wide too quickly when the brunette with a menacing grin that stood beyond you looked up from his cracked phone to eye you down just outside the doorway.

Patrick stood in the cold of the night and you couldn’t have pushed to shut the door any faster.

“Hey, hey ! What the fuck is your problem.. ?” He spat as his hand rejected the way you attempted to shut him out without even a pitch, his grip beating yours on instant as he pushed the door open wide enough for him to invite himself inside aways.

You closed your eyes with a sigh of annoyance. One thing you did know is to avoid the daring man at all cost. Weather with Art and Tashi around, or when it was just the two of you — Patrick was a man of way too many words. Always teasing, picking on you like a sworn bully just because he could. Because it was amusing to him to try and snip on the pigtails of the pretty, much younger and energetic play thing his best friends kept around. And with you being just too full of admiration of the couple and anyone who was a friend of theirs — it just stained your poor little heart what the patronizing man put you through. To have to despise his presence.

“Why are you here ?” You spoke with furrowed eyebrows, voice timid and more serious as you tried to hide behind the front door, towering you, he made his way through the floor like he owned it, letting his denim jacket slip from his arms.

“What ? The couple leave you to color or whatever you do here alone ?” He scoffed, grin on his face mocking your fuzzy cardigan you kept on your shoulders to trying making you feel small for your shorter size as always. Although There was always an obvious flirtation to his teasing — the two sidedness of Patrick being mean as way to get girls just like you to do whatever he pleased always confused you. It was alarming. Like he’d want you to feel cornered and vulnerable so he could have his true way.

However he wanted.

“Awards ceremony. Why are you here?” You repeated yourself again and shutting the door with a lock, before you turned to face Patrick already making himself as comfortable as he pleased.

“For grown up stuff, baby doll. You wouldn’t get it.” He totally means trying to hang out with Art and Tashi, or bug them to hang out with him. “You really here by yourself?”

You nodded a bit and took in the darker haired man walking towards the living area. “Yes… and I don’t need a babysitter. They aren’t here so you’re welcomed to go.”

Patrick chuckled a bit as he looked down at you over his shoulder. “Do you ever relax ? I mean, fuck... Why don’t you.. sit with me. Keep company ? Just till they get back- - I know you don’t actually wanna be all alone, do you ?”

You folded your arms, tough pout forming on your lips. You just knew how this would go by now. How it always went.

Patrick would lure you an excuse just so he could try and have a go at what Art and Tashi got from you. Which was a complete different story the man who knew nothing of boundaries had no business being apart of. But it was just in Patricks nature to have what he couldn’t. The treat you are for them. Gorgeous and full of youthful energy after big games — Tashi had you give her husband the most dutiful back massage, an intimate time that would end up with you on your back some where in the echoing mansion, as the blonde got to fuck the purest moans out of you.

And all Patrick did was yearn for that use of you. It was what he devotedly wanted behind all his gimmicks. “No thanks.” You settled for with a moment of building courage to just say that to the man. You knew he’d have some words to spew back in defense regardless.

He chuckled. “Why so tense? A movie or two won’t hurt you.. or are you just scared I’ll bite?” You notice his hand along with his words, patting his thigh once he sat leaning against the cushioned seat to send a beacon call your way, and you just batted your eyes away.

“I have better things to do.”

“Bullshit. You just want to run off and what..?” His eyes scan your figure, he chuckled. “Touch yourself till Art and Tashi get back?” The man began and with a flustered heat rising to your face, you made a putrid expression of disgust before turning away from him without another word to say, your hair swung behind you as you muttered how ignorant the brunette was and he sat pleased with himself there in the living room behind you. Your ears couldn’t even endure anymore of his objectification. And you didn’t bother shooting a text to Art and Tashi that Patrick had stopped by for whatever reason because they’d surely be knee deep in talking with tabloids and press at this hour.

So, as a way to have as little interaction with the man as you could — you continued up the stairs to the near guest room where your small but lovely left gift from Art was waiting. With a little sideways smile returning to your expression, you shut the door softly behind you so the man downstairs didn’t bother. Your fingers laced through the silky bow holding it all together. This fabricated box you unraveled to reveal the new pretty edition to your wardrobe of wondrous pieces the couple spoiled you with.

A set of lingerie all dainty you were sure you’d be quite at home in for the next couple of days just for Art to toy with, only then sharing the way your heavenly hips would fit it with his wife.

Your grin spread at just the thought of their hands on you. Praising and cooing like the sheer temptress you were. A soft “oh.. you’re getting special treatment.” softly purred through your lips as you took in the lace garment and immediately shed off your comfy clothes.

You knew how much the couple valued their privacy and especially when it came to you. Their perfect little secret for behind all the cameras and sports media. Your body ? Their choice. It was part of the agreement you made when you came into their lives to be their after match sugar baby. And you did honor and respect that in every way — but as your painted finger tips taped against your phone in thought, it crossed your mind that a few pictures in the tiny panties couldn’t hurt if you kept them to yourself.

So in just a few moments you were on the bed. Only the light colored patches of fabric over your nipples covering you up, thong stretched thin across your ass and garter strap ruffling around your thigh felt nice and familiar. You felt your prettiest like this — dolled up and with the expectation to please the star couple whenever they got home.

You reached across the bed where you left your phone and that’s when you opened up your camera app. You let your body do the natural work it’s used to — posing for your own revealing string of teasing selfies. One’s you used to take for random guys before Tashi had you be ready for a face time at any moment while they were away and you couldn’t tag along, demanding you spread your legs and show her husband what he’d get to have after a grand slam. (If he made one) thanks to you he always did.

You were placing your phone at vigorous angels as you switched poses with a sugary smile being the only detail of your face in the photo. Too unfortunate your sweet doe eyes wouldn’t make the cut. You glide your fingers with pink painted tips innocently against your bottom lip as you turned your smile into a naughty little grin soon enough to the light of the camera. You couldn’t help but let your playfulness shine through, even in the set that was simply too tiny for a good reason.

You were having a bit of fun with yourself really. And your body is one to be confident in, feeling like the adorned little thing you were — that was until your phone was being dropped automatically the second you heard “holy shit” being croaked from the door frame.

Patrick was grinning like an idiot as he watched your now mortified expression turn bashful quick. You stashed yourself underneath a corner of the covers, “Patrick- what the hell !?” He’d already been laughing as he let himself fully in the bedroom while you’d been quietly cursing to yourself with a palm to your brow. Frustrated and guilty already, you avoided making eye contact with Patrick in preparation for the week you were about to have of him miking this to patronize you.

“So you were feeling naughty, huh ?” He chuckled and one of his hands go from his jean pocket to scratch against his untamed beard that framed his haughty smirk. He inched over to were you’d gone completely flustered beneath the comforter. “Get out. Just- please..” you huffed although your voice was only as fragile as it usually was around the brooding man, you dropped your head along with your expression in shame and he only grinned a little wider.

Patrick stared at you with that smile before he made a grab and snatched up your phone before you could even jump to stop him. “Let me just take a quick check of how pretty you look before they’re turned in to Tashi and Art.” his thumb casually scroll through your exposing photos as you yelped for him to quit it, and he only kept you at a distance much too easily from his taller height.

“Give it! Patrick! It’s not funny- -” you whined as you ran in circles around the brunette and attempted countlessly to leap for your phone, but Patrick laughed on as he held it up where you just couldn’t get your legs to reach.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see their perfect little princess sneaking in nudes...”

You already had tears building in your ducts. You just knew that if Art and Tashi found out you weren’t faithful to their promises, being careless especially around such a careless man — and letting your spite lead your decisions of keeping what they gave you just between them. It could all be over in an instant. They couldn’t know what you’ve done. How poorly you acted without thinking.

You finally give up on your fight with Patrick that had really been you flailing arms at your phone as he tosses it between his hands so you couldn’t grab it. He messed with you like a toy. Patrick lived to play cat and mouse, and you’d fallen right into the trap.

“Patrick, please. Don’t do this… those pictures can’t be shown to anyone. I need my phone.” You sniff as you looked up at the dark haired man with watery eyes and he stiffed finally as did you. Course, tight grip of your phone in his larger hand. You watched as his green orbs now ran over your state — vulnerable in the pink lace that he was absolutely not supposed to be seeing you in right now.

Nearly every inch of your skin was on display, tits sitting too pretty, and the way the lines of the lingerie lined your hips, made the corners of his lips curve into a snarky grin.

You were asking him, just once, not to be an asshole.

And with a low tone, he was bound to respond like an asshole.

“I kinda like it when you beg.” The man was looking at you with eyes of the pure hunger and all you could do was close your own in defeat as you sighed.

“You really are afraid of them finding out, aren’t you?”

You nodded with your lip between your teeth. “They can’t.. you can’t tell them. This never happened, Pat. Please.”

You softly echoed again, throwing in calling him by half his name just to keep your chances sweet that he would eventually comply. The man chuckled as his eyes trailed off for just a fine moment before his expression got serious.

“So say I didn’t. If I didn’t… what’s in it for me?”

You swallowed hard. Bating your eyelashes in a moment of contemplation on what he could perhaps want from you. You hadn’t thought this far — and you didn’t have a clue.

“I- um- ..well- - what do you want?” You peered up at the man again, and this time, his stupid smirk had once again been making a comeback.

He eyed you. Your flower covered bra, with just a tiny bow in the middle. Then you again. Then of course, back down to where your smooth hidden cunt had been behind the fabric of your panties. Till his eyes finally land back on you again with a idiotic kind of smile.

You had to take a minute to wrap your head around it all. His wordless declaration until your eyebrows knitted with uproarious fear when it clicked.

“No.” You uttered.

“Well.. yeah.”

“No. Patrick… anything else- -” you pleaded as you began to sniff again and the man cut you off.

Patrick stepped a little closer to you, your pouty expression followed his gaze as you anxiously toyed with your hair and he slowly examined your frame again.

“You want these pictures to stay between you and me, right ? You don’t want your precious sugar mommy and daddy to find out about you slutting around the house when they’re away. It would make them so upset with you if they found out….” He made his tone sympathetic and only a little less poisonous, you nodded as you folded your arms timidly. “Then you’ll do what you have to do so they don’t know… yeah ?”

You nodded and listened up to his rant of your own mistakes. He caught you at a draw. The man’s green met your gaze even when he narrowed to read your doubtful head and wondering little eyes at how much you’d just been desperate to be seen as good for them. Tilting his head some, you stepped back as he stepped forward.

“I know what you want.” Patrick rose his hand to let a finger slide underneath the strap of your bra. Your wide eyes looked up at his dark curls to match his pupils. Tongue darted out to lick at his lips, he knew you’d innocently be oblivious to his hunger stride. All you could do was let him pull the strap down your shoulder just as slow as he talked.

“Good girls have to do what’s right for everyone. And I know your a good girl.” His voice grew softer, but lustful as he was now far beyond in your space.

You syncing up with his overall musk of pine scented cologne, cigarettes and numerous college girls he’d pick up in bars lingering off his sent.

You did know how dangerously he could lead, and you didn’t need to find yourself in any more trouble at last — yet something in the way the heat from his body had been melting into your senses, how his eyes made you feel like an intoxicated prey. And hands that were roaming your little figure that made you feel obligated to return in his favors.

You looked at Patrick as he leaned forward to your level only to whisper at your ear. You felt shivers like electricity from his next words.

“So get on your knees and be good for me.”

Patrick pulled away as he’d been close enough for his lips linger over your exposed skin, you trembled from just his teasing hands on your waist and voice too much for you to escape.

You eyed the floor where your feet landed, a little quiver in your throat — but a kind of lustrous flutter now taking over instead. And like that, you had been gradually lowering yourself down on both of your knees.

The man still standing above you showed his teeth with his next sideways grin, watching your hair spill back as you craned your neck to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“How do you want me?” You question, voice sweet as it always was while you’d been at such a naughty view for the brunette. He had chuckled with a little groan as he looked over your angelic grace in the garment you’d been in, all with eyes wide and not one thought behind them of knowing of all he harsh ways he could treat you.

“That set is- - something else on you, pretty girl… why don’t you suck my cock in it, hm?” with calculated intentions behind all his cooing, Patrick had already taking a swift of your hair into a nice ponytail and your eyes went trailing to the fly of his pants before you, hands shakily going to where they were intended.

You could feel the brunette’s hooded eyes on you as you began unzipping the fly, fingers tug at the hem of his boxers like you’d been too scared to touch, not ready for what’s beneath. “C’mon, don’t be shy..” his tone almost haunting. He knew he’d had you practically on strings and you did comply, taking them down just enough so his cock had been on display, hard and getting harder by the second, you stared — a little whimper escaped your tightening throat at the way his tip rose with the width of your eyes.

You glance up at Patrick’s face again, diplomat expression taking over suddenly. “You swear… none of it leaves this room?”

The man scanned the door way briefly before returning your gaze with a prideful smile. “It dies at the door.”

You breathed deeply before your hands were bracing the back of Patrick’s thighs. Knees with no cushion, already pained from the floor boards — the smooth skin of your lips were being pressed to Patrick’s thick member, leaving just one kitten lick on his reddened tip before your mouth was full of it. The brunette watched you with lips agape as he slipped your phone into his back pocket and used his other to swoop up your loose locks.

Your mouth had hallowed on his cock as you began sucking on him with as much as you could take — with how full he’d been in you orally, light moans echoing in your throat, his tip hit the back of you and Patrick cursed. “That’s it, baby doll. Nice and slow,” he watched as your lips ran up and down his foreskin, coating him in your saliva as you whimpered through your wet sucking.

Your head bobbed on him, and the man let out low groans of his own as his head let back at your heavenly warmth around him. As you looked up at him, the way he reacted to your work was enough for you to think just when you thought you’d distracted him with your pleasures, your fingers were gliding from his thighs to his back pocket. Reaching for where he stuck your phone, but your wrist was abruptly stopped and the man made a ‘tskk’ sound as he removed your hand. “Nice try angel.. I wouldn’t do that again.” He muttered before taking matters into his own hands and pumping his cock down you throat at a rougher pace. You whined helplessly and adjusted yourself so you’d sat on your own feet beneath him.

Patrick had let out a deep moan as he fucked into your more than perfect little mouth that was stuttering on just how much you needed him to keep your dirty secrets. And you, all wanting nothing to do with him earlier — now had tears streaming down your face as you whimpered and gagged on his cock. Stroke after stroke had your finger nails digging into the man’s jeans, his eyebrows hitched with his breath as he observe your teary eyes and wide mouth taking him,

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. you’re gonna make me cum.” The man grunted as you moaned and he pulled you off his dick with a knotted grip on your hair just in time as you coughed vigorously.

Wiping your puffy lips with a sniffle and eyes welled up with tears as you narrowed with a cry, Patrick grinned while he’d already been jerking his cock, “you’re doing so well for me. Now open up..” his voice husked as he pumped his throbbing cock through his orgasm, letting his tip rest on your tongue the second your mouth was wide enough to let ropes of his cum spill on to.

You didn’t feel the cleanliness, and maybe that didn’t matter, because as Patrick had been cooing praises to you while he released on your tongue, you soon realized you’d been sitting with a wet puddle of your own.

“You know, while we’re at it, I can help with that..” Patrick nodded at the way you checked yourself and your neck craned to look up at him again when you heard his voice.

“But- - Patrick, we shouldn’t.”

“The damage is already done weather you like it or not, baby doll. You can get a little fun out of this if you let yourself.”

You didn’t exactly know how to respond, with what you’d already done being far beyond a bargain but a total price to pay especially since Patrick used his power over you at best. And with the dark haired man standing there only halfway putting his ravishingly large dick away beyond you — just sitting there on the floor, nervously toying with your fingers with a ache sitting in your core. You knew that since you’d been there, letting Patrick make you cum was all you could think about now.

His smirk returned when you rose to your feet and eyed him before walking back over to the bed.

“Okay.” You uttered quietly as it was now your back turned to the taller man who followed you over like a shadow, and you knew to surrender by now.

“God you look good..” his hands examined wherever they pleased on you now. Patrick’s fingers slid from the top of your breasts to the dip of your lower back to your ass, that he squeezed tight, making a hiss escape from you. And even though you hit him in the arm and it left no damage as he grinned to himself, you still let him do it.

Maybe you were acting quite slutty.

“You said you would help me, not grope me…” you spoke up in a voice that made the man laugh at your ought to be stern.

“Well, firstly I think sweet girls like you should say please.” He beckoned as his tongue darts out to lick over his lip while he panned down at you. It may be a signal to the way his cock was beginning to stand again at the sight of your breast near getting lose within your bra from the aftermath of the way he just manhandled you.

Your eyes shift anywhere elsewhere than his gaze. “Please.”

“Please.. what ?” His hands wrapped around your neck to pull you close, and you yelped a tad, he chuckled at your annoyance, but enticing want towards him.

You looked into the mans daring eyes and going against your own rules, in desperate fashion, you begged. “Please.. make me cum, Pat.”

Patrick glanced where your panties had a darkened spot spreading, damp as he grinned before letting his hand slip beneath so he could feel the soaked parts — you immediately gasped softly as you watched where he toyed with your slit to find your folds. It was like he found where you needed most as if he’d been a pro. Observing as your lips make a fine “o” shape when his pointer and middle slid against your clit and your poor heavy eyes met his again.

“I know you loved having my cock down your throat.” He rasped with a sly smirk, you quickly grabbed his bicep. One of his fingers made it inside of you, feeling him fill you with just his thick digits had your eyes wanting to role and you hissed out a whimper immediately. But fuck that. Patrick already wanted you moaning as quick as possible.

He pushed your figure on the bed and you hit the sheets with a noise as the man hustled to get your last bit of cover up discarded. You noticed the way his cock bounced as soon as he saw your smooth cunt be revealed to him and your eyebrows furrowed when your ache grew, moaning slightly through your bitten lip.

“Patrick, please.. hurry.”

He took your legs under his grip rough as the flailed and he made sure they were as far apart as he needed to handle you, “keep these spread for me.” Was all the man said before aligning himself with your entrance and making sure your slick had covered his tip finely.

You whined as you viewed him do the work of getting himself coated with your pre-cum. Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy that just looked a little too pretty and smooth, you could tell his head was going full with need to fuck you senseless. So when he started to slide in your hole with a jarring “fuck” coming from him and you moaned out a more high pitched noise with knitted brows — you kept your hands on the back of your thighs for the brunette as he only gets halfway before he needed to readjust you and himself.

“Mmm.. you’re too big, Patrick.” Came from you as your chest slightly heaved and the brunette had a dumb grin on his face again while he looked down at how sweet you looked all spread out for him, letting him get your tight cunt after all of this. By now you’d surely forgotten about your little photos and just how much he could ruin what was between your legs at this point.

Patrick was thrusting into you with no hesitation, letting his grunts fill the room on top of your pathetic mewls as he kept your hips steady and against the thigh while you slid up and down his dick. Your hands dig into the bedsheets near your head as your lips go fully agape and your eyes are being pulled elsewhere with the euphoric sensation of Patrick’s hips slapping into your cervix, “Oh ! Oh… fuck,” you hiss as you can’t help yourself but watch the man’s shaft run against your wet walls when he grabbed hold of your wrists.

And with a impressed grin, Patrick saw your fixed gaze go from totally oblivious to just wanting to be tossed around like a whore for him.

“You gonna let Art and Tashi know how much of a good girl you were for me when they get home, right ? No issues. Just you doing whatever your told… right sweet girl ?” The man coo’d as he let up one hand from your arms to cup your chin. When your eyes met his dark ones, you’d been holding a dazed smile behind your bitten lip with a plea for him to keep going.

As he’d taken your little photoshoot to ending up deep inside your precious cunt with a few tactics of his own, your photos count on staying between you and him.

With a small nod and “uh hu” you let Patrick make you cum.

[wisecura]

My Leader

Cult Leader Suguru x f!Reader 4k

an: did anyone ask for this? oh yeah! I did. enjoy my unrequested fantasy. this might be bad but oh well haha

summary: suguru geto was all for the betterment of the world—eradicating the non-sorcerers in society, and collecting people to stand in the new world with him. it's no different when he finds you—an untrained sorcerer, so eager and desperate for validation—a hint at sanity when no one else could see the monsters around you. but what happens if he takes you in only to find himself changing his mind.

warnings: pwp, voyeurism, gore, blood, murder, dark undertones, size kink, smut, you aren't in your right mind either, fingering, marking, manipulation, belittling and teasing, minors DNI

The last thing on your bucket list in life would’ve been joining a cult. 

Seriously, cult life was definitely not where you saw yourself in your early twenties—with all the time in the world still ahead of you. But, well, here you were.

That priest you'd met earlier? He'd been nothing short of a lighthouse for you—a beacon of hope during those endless, stressful days. You know, the ones haunted by those demon-looking creatures lurking just out of sight. And the craziest part? Nobody else seemed to see them. Yeah, you were pretty much alone in this freaky ghost-seeing club.

So, imagine the relief when the fifth priest you consulted turned out to be pure gold—a genuine miracle worker. Not only did he validate your sanity, but he also managed to kick that pesky little demon parasite on your shoulder to the curb. And suddenly, the world felt lighter. Easier.

And when he offered you a spot by his side, it didn't take much to convince you. Especially after he mentioned that those 'curses' were likely to make a comeback. Joining him seemed like a no-brainer.

But six months in with this man, and there was no ignoring the raw sex appeal he radiated. Standing several inches above you, he was large and imposing—hitting all your size-kink checkboxes. His features were sharply handsome, with plush lips that sparked envy and hair that never seemed out of place. His eyes? Absolutely captivating. Really, what did this man not have that wouldn't cause any sane woman to go feral? 

No wife, not even a girlfriend in sight, but he had two adoptive daughters whom he treated with the utmost care. A family man, right?

You hadn't fully realized what you were getting into when you'd first signed on—then again, you hadn't exactly been in your right mind. How else would you find the nerve to talk to such a handsome man without immediately dropping to your knees? 

And you were pretty sure Suguru wasn't all there either. He'd woven tales about jujutsu sorcerers, depicted them as the apex of evolution, even hinting that you had the potential to be one of them.

Something about ‘cursed energy’ or another. But he didn’t seem all that interested in filling you in on the rest. And you didn’t ask. Why bother when he was providing you a cushy life at the temple?

He treated you differently from the other cult members, always keeping you close. You never missed a service, always stationed right beside him. Silently, you'd watched as he delivered his visions of a new world. You tried to be the attentive follower you were supposed to be, but damn, he looked so good when he monologued. You practically swooned.

And he kept you around his girls, a privilege most other members couldn't even fathom—many didn’t even know they existed. You found yourself cooking for them, gradually forging your own little bond. They warmed up to you quickly, and it didn’t exactly come as a shock when they started seeing you as a mother figure.

This setup couldn’t have been better for Suguru, whose plans for you seemed singularly focused—your confinement.

You appeared so willing, so easygoing, so content under his care. 'Confinement' might sound a bit severe—maybe 'ensured stay' fits better? Whatever you chose to call it, Suguru wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

Just as you saw him as a shining beacon, he saw you as a diamond in the rough—a pretty little thing that happened to stumble into his temple. Desperate for answers, you had long since lost faith in any conventional sanctuary.

So, you found a cult.

A notorious one at that.

He wasn’t sure if you were aware of their more nefarious misdeeds—he was skilled at keeping things under wraps. The money he brought in always came from questionable sources, but you never pried. So he never told.

You meshed nicely with his chosen family, fitting in with everyone and proving quite useful. It felt out of character for him, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of your sweet, motherly image being tainted by the torturous grip of sorcerer politics just didn’t sit right with him.

No—you belonged in his temple. Guided cage ‘n all, well-supported, well-supplied, and nicely kept.

And maybe, when the time was right, he’d formally place his mark on you—maybe with a ring? Or perhaps a few choice bite marks? You always did wear those low-cut pajamas during breakfast, the expanse of your neck tantalizingly on display. You were definitely taunting him, that was for sure. He had plenty of ideas about what to do with you.

“Suguru?” 

Your voice, melodic even this early in the morning, managed to grab his attention—even before the coffee had kicked in. His name coming off your lips was sinful.

"Suguru?" You try again. His expression is dazed, distracted. The girls had already left for their tutoring sessions, leaving you alone with the enigmatic man.

Sometimes, you couldn’t quite figure him out. His moods swung wildly—from passive-aggressive and temperamental to overly dramatic. Charming, sure, but definitely a handful. Then there were moments like now, where he sat at the table, calm and stoic, clearly preoccupied with something on his mind.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, as you set down another serving of eggs and rice. You didn’t know how to phrase the question, and you didn’t know what made you so nervous about asking. You were a human being, so this shouldn’t be an issue, free will ‘n all. “I was thinking of going out today. Did you...did you need me to pick anything up.” 

He paused at this, his brow raising inquisitively. "...What would you need to go out for?"

"Ah, well, a bit of this and that," you trailed off, looking away shyly. Truthfully, you wanted to pick up something for him as a way to say thanks, and maybe something for the girls too. Your money had been sitting idle, practically rotting in the bank—and you felt an urge to spoil the only people who seemed to care for you in your life. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Mmm, this and that?” He contemplated, his hand trailing back through his hair. “...Are you....that fed up with us?” You glanced over, hoping to find a teasing smile on his lips—only to meet his eyes downcast, locked onto the table. Melancholic.

You felt your heart ache at his words, you hadn’t meant to upset him. "Ah, no! I, uh—actually just wanted to pick up a few things. Why do you think I'd want away from you guys?" Your voice trailed off, a small laugh attempting to lighten the mood, as you made your own plate. "You’re my family now, after all."

His eyes raked down your back, unbeknownst to you. The situation was far from ideal, but he was determined to keep you content enough not to leave. Perhaps he could even scare you into staying? Your name slipped effortlessly from his lips, a breathy utterance that gripped his chest—selling his concern perfectly.

“I’m worried about you, y'know?”

“Worried? Why?” You continued your setup, your back unsuspectingly facing him.

“If anyone outside of here spots you...well, I’m not exactly a celebrated man in the sorcerer community. They could easily take you the second you step out of this temple. And you’re practically a magnet for those curses—that energy you put off is something else.” His voice trailed off as his mind seemed to drift away, even as you peeked over your shoulder at him.

You weren't completely in the dark about his reputation in the community-the fearful stares from one or two of the followers told you that. You weren't even surprised about his growing concern for you. It was nice, in a way, having someone like him show this level of concern for you.

"Really, it means a lot that you're looking out for me, Suguru. I love that you keep me safe—I do, but I also don't want to just take from you all the time," you say, turning fully to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He flashes you a reassuring, warming smile, that makes your chest stutter. "I understand, but you're not just taking. You're a part of this family, a crucial part. It's my responsibility to keep you safe, and I take that seriously," he explains, his tone gentle yet firm. "Maybe, for now, online shopping could be a better option. It'll keep you out of sight from those who might not understand our...situation here. You can still have some independence without the risk. How does that sound?"

It wasn't exaclty a questions and more like a rule he's already set in place. His words hang in the air, wrapped in the guise of caring, yet subtly steering you to remain within the confines of the temple, minimizing your contact with the outside world.

Those next few months settled into a routine, and you never left the temple as per Suguru's 'request'. But during his sermons, you couldn't help but notice a strange man in the congregation—an older dude who couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. It was unsettling, creepy even, and every time you caught his gaze, it made you want to leave the room immediately.

And when you were handing out the pamphlets for the evening, his hand managed to pass along your hand just a little too sensually, causing you to jerk back, as if burned. Your polite smile still remained but you couldn't stop the uneasy turning of your stomach.

You tried your best to ignore it, concentrating instead on the magnetic presence of Suguru, the leader whose charisma had always managed to overshadow any discomfort. Focusing on him, with his intense gaze and compelling sermons, you hoped the creepy feelings triggered by that strange man's stares would simply melt away.

For a time, it seemed to work. The incident faded to the back of your mind, barely a blip on your radar—that is, until Suguru himself brought it up.

It was after dinner, during your usual walk back to your room, a routine that had become a comforting part of your daily life under his watch. As you strolled down the quiet corridor, his voice broke the silence, casual yet probing. “Did you know that man?”

His gaze was stern, pinning you under a scrutiny that seemed to see right through you. You could have played dumb, feigned ignorance, and questioned which man he was referring to. Maybe then he would've let it go, attributing it to his own overprotectiveness. Maybe.

But you didn't like the way that man's eyes had roamed over you, as if he was trying to claim you or imagining what lay beneath your clean robes. Maybe Suguru would do something about it? After all, he often dismissively called his followers 'monkeys,' a clear sign he didn't hold them in high regard. “No, I don’t know him,” you responded, a shiver running through you that Suguru didn't miss. “He’s a bit weird, right? I didn’t think you had followers like that.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, pausing you both in the hall. The dim moonlight streaming through a nearby window could have given the scene a nearly romantic quality if not for the concern etched deep within his furrowed brow. “Alright,” he finally said, the word hanging in the air before he turned to continue guiding you back to your room.

That was it. No further questions, no reassurances—just a simple acknowledgment and then moving on. It felt anticlimactic, almost dismissive, and a part of you felt almost offended.

But then again, what had you really expected?

That was what you thought before you saw red. 

But it wasn't just the red. It was the heavy, metallic, coppery smell that suddenly choked the air, thick and invasive. The way the splatter violently stained your white robes, soaking into the fabric, marring them beyond recognition. The congealed remnants of what once was a person spread grotesquely across the cold floor, as his lifeless eyes stared back at you. His mouth hung open in a final, silent scream of horror as if he could still hear the words spewing from the priest's mouth. 

“Does anyone else have any issues with this?” The question sliced through the tense silence of what seemed like a routine board meeting, discussing the mundane affairs of the company. Suguru's tone was far too light, disturbingly cavalier, given the blood soaking his front, nonchalantly wiping off a stray drop that had dared to mar his gorgeous face. To your surprise, no one objected, their eyes locked on the decapitated head lying before you. You had seen the curse—the one that had been produced and sent by Suguru. And maybe you were the crazy one for feeling a little flustered by his actions—heart fluttering.

Or should they be called reactions? The so-called necessary consequences he deemed necessary for your safety.

“Suguru.” His eyes shifted back to you, almost expecting to find fear. The sight of blood wasn’t for everyone, and he was fully prepared to sic a curse on you should you attempt to flee. But what he was met with was so unexpected—your flushed face, your grip tight on his sleeve, almost like clinging to your own lifeline. That oh-so-adorable look in your eyes, innocently seeking his attention.

This had been a bit of a test, an evaluation to see how you would respond to his more...abrasive nature. And he just couldn't stand the way that 'monkey' had his eyes locked on you, the way his fingers had dared to trail over your sleeve—as if he had the right to touch.

As you reached over to wipe a lingering trace of blood from his cheek, his reaction was swift, instantly, his hand snaps around your wrist. His eyes rake over you, and the disapproval in his gaze makes you feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you.

"That filthy monkey blood is all over you now," he remarks, his tone dripping with disdain. After a moment's pause, a small smile curls the corners of his mouth. His grip remains firm on your wrist as he guides you over to his seat at the front of the congregation, giving you a thorough once-over before finally releasing you. 

Nonchalantly, he shrugs the top of his robes down his shoulders, revealing a chest and abs that are absolutely sculpted to impossible perfection.

You'd always known he was handsome, but this? This was something else. He was not just attractive- he was, without a doubt, ripped. Settling down, he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, facing him. You're up close now, close enough to see the way he gazed so affectionately down at you—your heart racing and skipping several beats in response.

If you were blushing before, now you were certain you must look as bright as a tomato. You avert your gaze, only to find yourself face-to-face with his impeccably sculpted chest. Your hands, you realize, are already on him—likely from when he first pulled you onto his lap.

A smug smirk plays across his lips as he scans the crowd, his gaze predatory and possessive. It's a clear message to everyone present: you were off-limits to anyone but him. Held in his strong arms, you feel almost too soft, so compliant and utterly his, as if you belonged nowhere else but here.

His whisper is just for you, a soft murmur that tickles your ear, “Do you like what you see?” His eyes remain fixed on the crowd behind you, and thank god for that—you're practically melting in his lap. You're at a loss for words, and though under different circumstances you might have shot back a flirty retort, the intensity of the moment leaves you speechless.

His gaze locks with yours again, piercing and intense. He scrutinizes your form once again—flushed and trembling, the ugly stains of blood soaked into your clothes. Your clothes.

His hands begin to undo the lace at the front of your robes. In a panic, you reach up to stop him, embarrassed—not necessarily by his attention, but overwhelmingly by the many eyes watching from behind. "Suguru," you hiss, your voice a whisper thick with embarrassment and a plea for some semblance of privacy or restraint.

But his gaze halts you. It's firm, stern—like a mother scolding her child. Overwhelmed by his intense stare, your resistance melts away. You find yourself clinging to his arms, resting your head against his chest as he peels away the robes stained by the blood, liberating your skin from the filth. 

“Did I say you could leave?”

At his words, the shuffling of footsteps behind you to come to an abrupt halt. You can almost sense the veiled fear and shock painting the faces of those behind you, the tension in the air so thick it’s suffocating, uncuttable even with the sharpest blade. As you squirm uncomfortably in his lap, you feel the unmistakable shift of the large bulge beneath you. This fucker was actually turned on by this? 

But were you any better? You buried your face even deeper into his chest, inadvertently drawing his smug attention. "What's wrong, princess? You feelin’ shy?" His tone was taunting, so uncharacteristic of him. You'd never heard anything like that from those lips in all the time you'd known him, and that thought alone made you want to bury your face in a pillow and scream. 

You nod, barely managing to keep your composure, only to feel his hands, which had been supporting his weight behind him, shift up to your thighs, drawing you even closer. The movement causes your panty-clad pussy to rub against the large snake you were saddled on. You hadn't intended to let out that needy whimper, but the accidental friction against your clit had you digging your nails in tighter. 

"Is my sweet girl actually wet?" His tone is laced with mock disbelief. You don’t respond, but that doesn’t deter him, his fingers reaching between your legs, seeking confirmation for himself. You feel this thumb graze that oh so exquisitely sensitive spot, leaving you jolting in his lap, his fat fingers grazing past your clit over to your slick drippy folds.

“Tsk tsk tsk, sweet girl, you’re practically dripping. Are you alright?” His voice drips with obvious mock concern, and the distraction of his thumb pressing back against your button, drawing circles–makes it impossible to form a coherent response.

"You're all worked up—so red. You must've been so upset when that bastard put his hands on you," he murmurs, and your back arches as he picks up the pace, his hand circling your waist to hold you flush against him. His touch is assertive, almost commanding, drawing reactions from you that you'd never gotten from a toy.

"Uh uh, look here," his voice suddenly goes cold, detached. Your eyes snap up to his face, only to find his gaze directed over your shoulder, at the long since forgotten crowd behind you. Oh shit. What were you doing? His next words slice through the thick air, his tone sharp as a knife.

"You monkeys seem to forget your place." The room holds it's breath, and suddenly, you're painfully aware of the many eyes on you, the precarious position you're in—a spectacle for the small crowd. A shudder travels down your spine as his fingers relentlessly continue their exploration. You can't stop the slick trail trailing from you, soaking your underwear further. Your hips buck involuntarily towards his hand, even as his words echo hollowly through the room. "Should I just remind you? None of you should be touching what isn’t yours…"

The word "yours" spins your head, and you shamelessly whimper out. "My naughty girl, do you really enjoy this that much?" His tone is teasing, yet there's an edge of possession that sends another shiver through you. His touch intensifies again, and you tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by his presence.

Pulling away, he finally gives your chest some much-needed attention, slipping the cup of your bra below your rounded tits. His gaze is appreciative as he kneads one into his mouth, sucking greedily. And in an instant you're pinned to the floor beneath him, flat on your back, his bulge still pressing insistently against you. 

The shift is swift, his body covering yours, providing the room an unobstructed view of him devouring you. Yet, your focus remains solely on him—his broad shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest, and the stiff muscles that hint at hours spent perfecting them. Your eyes finally settle on the large bulge that he keeps grinding into you.

And grind he does, his clothed cock taking over the work of his fingers, each motion stripping your throat of the whimpers and whines that spill forth—sounds that surely only spur him on further.

Caught in this intense, consuming moment, you're hyper-aware of every contact, every movement, and every gaze set on you, heightening every sensation as you lose yourself to the rhythm he dictates. He’s a greedy lover, taking every inch he can get before finally pulling himself free from his robes, his cock springing forth—thick and demanding.

His gaze is hungry as he eyes you, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers darkly, "You like putting on a show, don't you? Just look at you, so desperate and dripping for me while they all watch. You’re nothing but a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?"

His words are taunting, debauched, as your pussy clenches, a flush of shame and excitement as he pulls your panties down teasingly slow. Straightening to his full height, he sighs at the sight of your pretty pink folds, completely on display for him. He’d be the one to ruin you, of course. No one else was allowed to touch what was his.

He spits on his length, a heavy sheen as he strokes in long and slow passes over his bulbous head. Your eyes are fixated on the curve, every inch of him on display. His eyes remain fixed on the heave of your chest, his words only for you, "You're completely mine, aren't you? Every shiver, every sigh... I want them all." Before you can answer, he has himself positioned at your entrance, sheathing himself completely inside you, filling your clingy pussy entirely in one fluid motion. 

The guttural moan he shares with you is nothing short of primal, as he pulls back and then hammers back into you with a quick, forceful thrusts, your honeyed slickness making it all too easy. The furrow in his brow is ever-present, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that's damn near animalistic. You don't recognize the man filling you so completely.

You reach up to touch him, but one of his meaty hands pins both of yours above your head in a swift, assertive move, his strength incomparable. "Feels so good, princess, so fucking good, aah," his words stutter out, breathlessly, as his hips meet yours again in a relentless, brutal pace.

His cock stretches you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot that always seemed to elude the ex-boyfriends you'd dated. The slaps of his hips meeting your dripping pussy were echoing the room, as your head lolled back you managed to catch sight of a few of the faces of the men watching, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed. You whimpered, trying to hit your face into the crook of your shoulder, only to have his other hand snap onto your chin, his dick continuing the abuse your cervix.

Leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers huskily, "C'mon now, don’t play shy." You could hear the grin in his voice, "You aren’t fooling anyone, not with the way this cunt is clenching me—ngh—so fucking—good." His words punctuated by each powerful thrust into your sopping hole, his breathing growing heavier as his fat balls slapped against you. You've never come without your clit being teased before, but you were sure you could squirt all over him from those words and his stretch alone.

"Such a pretty little slut for me," he growled as he drove into you, "lettin’ me stuff you so full." His words came out in low purrs, his hand still firmly clamped on your wrists and chin, ensuring you couldn’t see anyone else but him. "Gonna let me breed you in front of all these pathetic bastards? Show everyone who owns this cunt?" You felt your pussy clamp down tightly on him—earning a sharp hiss from him as he tightened his grip around your neck. You could barely breathe, your vision narrowing as you came hard around his cock, your body stiffening, unable to think straight. 

He continued to fuck you stupid, relentless, "You love being my filthy little fuck toy, don't you?" his breath, hot against your ear. "Just a wet hole for me to use, right in front of everyone." You couldn't even make a sound, your head fuzzy and body already sore. "fucking—ngh—gonna breed this pussy full, baby—gonna—mmgh," His voice was ragged as your walls spasmed around him, his hold on your neck like a predator with limp prey, as he let out the loudest moan yet, "gonna cum, gonna—" and with that, he spilled himself deep inside you, his hot seed mixing with your release.

You felt his hips continue to rut against you, his gaze fierce and possessive—a rabid dog with his treat, heaving, refusing to pull out. He unclenched your neck as you gasped in a deep, burning breath of air, lungs finally refilling. The onlookers were the furthest thing from your mind, until you were abruptly brought back to reality by his commanding voice–leaving no room for argument,

"Now get the fuck out of here." 

As the command left his lips, the onlookers, still frozen from the raw display they had witnessed, hesitated for a moment before scrambling away. All you heard were retreating footsteps. The room quickly emptied, leaving just the echo of their footsteps and the heavy breathing that filled the space between you and him.

Still inside you, he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes still burning with that possessive intensity. "Look at what you do to me," he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers trailed lazily over your skin, marking paths where his earlier grip had been.

He pushed back into you slowly, coaxing a whimper from your oversensitive body, "Just look at you, all flushed and beautifully wrecked for me. You took me so well," he praised, his tone heavy with satisfaction. His fingers delicately traced the marks his grip had left on your neck, his mark now visibly etched onto your skin.

"You're mine, remember that. Every inch of you, every gasp, everything—it all belongs to me."

come home

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 6, episode 605

Ok folks, It is time to go trough the next episode of season 6 I worked, episode 605.

When you are working on an episode as a storyboard artist you, usually, want to choose how to approach your sequences. Most of the time your will get instructions from your director and supervisor to do things in certain ways, making sure that things aligning between episodes and general season arcs; but most of details of your sequences are up to you.

In this episode I had the huge privilege to tackle most of Soren and Viren interactions, and a big question for my, from the beginning, was "what will be my approach?"

Because, how I see it, there are 2 big forces, struggles, arcs- or whatever you want to call it- in conflict during this sequences. In one hand, you have Soren and his pain, and in the other hand, you have Viren and his desire for forgiveness.

I decided to approach this sequences from Viren's, because 2 reasons mainly:

The first one, is the most obvious one, is that- at least for me- Soren's arc is already resolved, of course he is in real pain, and he is a victim of abuse and there is a lot of trauma that he needs to heal, but his overall arc resolved in season 3. He is one of the goof guys now, and he knows where he stands. This is an important moment for his healing, for sure, but it is more relevant to Viren's arc that is still incomplete at this point.

The second reason is more personal. While I am a daughter, I have the blessing of having a really good relationship with my parents, so while I understand Soren's trauma, I have not a lot of personal experience to pour into. But, I am also a mother, and from that point of view, I deeply understand Viren. I still think that he is a villain, and what he did was wrong in all levels, but I can absolutely connect with the idea of "parents sacrifice for their children, not the other way around".

Parenting is the eternal struggle between being able to do anything for your children well being, and understanding that they are their own person, and their have the right to make their own mistakes and live their own life.

So yeah, that is what was in my mind during this episode, now let's check sequence by sequence!

My first sequence is a sweet one, between Ezran and Soren. I usually don't have a lot of sequences with the young king, so it is always fun to work with him

Overall, it is a simple and sweet moment between this two, I love how much Soren respects Ezran but at the same time tries to keep it casual, haha. I love the idea of friends loving and supporting each other.

My next sequence is when Soren goes to visit Viren for the first time. This is a big one. In one hand, Viren wants to talk and express everything he has to say, in the other Soren holding up his feelings, dealing with confusion and anger.

The sequence opens with the shot of Viren in the cell and the fly on the spider web. It's a pretty on the nose metaphor that we used through the full episode.

A less on the nose metaphor I tried to build during the sequences was using the bars as a framing devise to show emotional states. When Viren is talking with guilt and resentment, he is usually framed behind the bars. When he is talking from a place of love, taking into consideration Soren's feelings and acknowledging the damage ha has caused, he usually is framed without the bars.

This is a sequence where they fail to connect, and by the end, Viren tries to follow Soren, but the chains stop him. There is still a huge division between both of them.

Next sequences is another interaction, This time, they will talk, but it will not be good. We start with Viren, still trapped, suffering. He is a little calmer now. He tries to connect with Soren, but it is still hard, the bars are between them, and the pain is keeping them apart.

But then, Viren starts to talk more freely, to recognize his mistakes, the damage that he caused to Soren, to Claudia. The ways he was a bad parent and hurt them both. So we flip the framing, now Viren is free, Soren is behind the bars.

Soren's pain is stopping him from healing and is coming out as rage.

he has a hard time believing whatever his father is telling him. In the past, Viren manipulated him, why now would be different. It is so hard to break cycles of abuse, and it is hard to forgive, too. Some people don't deserve forgiveness, to be honest. And I am not sure if Soren ever will forgive Viren.

So Soren burst into rage. I wanted to create a pretty visceral reaction. Talking with his hands and body, almost like puking out his feelings, so much pain that he can not hold anymore. But this is not necessarily what he needs. He screams at Viren, he hits the bars, he leaves in rage, and the wound is still open.

And Viren is defeated again. Forgiveness will not be something easy to get.

My next sequences is a short silly one, hahaha. Rayla and Callum going to fight the beast. I swear to god i have the "Slash, Slash, Swirly dash" line stuck in my head until today ><

Well, back to the drama.

My last sequence of the episode is when Viren wakes up, and Soren is there.

This time, there is no confrontation between them. Viren understands that no matter what he says, he may never be never forgiven. So he stops trying to "convince" Soren that he is sorry, and just tell him what he thinks Soren needs to hear.

And after that Soren leaves, maybe for the first time ready to start the path to healing.

And that was my work on episode 605!!

Thanks for reading this long post, again!

If you have any questions about the board process on Dragon prince, please feel free to ask! Also, I always read all the comments you put in the tags, they always make me smile :) Thank you!!!

Soon I'll post about my work on 608!

[batmanlovesnirvana]

| BATTINSON HEADCANONS ! 🦇

A/N : old post from two years ago, but I’ve changed and added a few things since then

my boy is awkward as hell, but somehow, not at all—it really just depends on who he’s with and the vibe of the moment

sassy when he feels like it, but most of the time? he’s a total nonverbal enigma—half the time, all you’re getting are grunts and the occasional raised eyebrow

specially if you’re still just a stranger to him, or even just a friend

he’s ridiculously stubborn—dug-in-heels, won’t-budge-an-inch stubborn. and, of course, he inherited every ounce of it from his darling mama...

had a Star Wars phase when he was 9

he could’ve talked to you all day back then if you’d asked—about every character, every layer they had, his favorite, and why

I think his fave would’ve prob be Luke

but secretly, he’d have a soft spot for Darth Vader too—not for the evil he represents, but for the complexity of his character

he was definitely spoiled—lived the life of a prince, no doubt about it. but his parents made sure to keep him grounded, always lecturing him to be thankful for what he had and to value everything, no matter how small

he’s the last person to complain about anything, especially when it comes to material stuff

If your apartment’s not exactly perfect or if you don’t have all the fancy things, don’t feel embarrassed—he couldn’t care less about that

Bruce isn’t the type to judge people for their circumstances

what matters to him is who you are, not what you have

he traveled a lot and saw poverty up close. he didn’t just witness it; he experienced it and used it as a way to train and push himself

so I think he’d insist that you don’t let his wealth define you or make you feel small. he’d want you to focus on who you are, not what he has

but he’s still a billionaire

and sometimes it shows

Like if he takes you somewhere, he might be like,

“That place wasn’t good, not what I wanted for you, their steak was too dry”

or “The service was way below expectations.”

it’s not that he’s trying to flex, but his standards have been shaped by a life of luxury and privilege.

even if he doesn’t mean to, it can come off like he’s out of touch with the more everyday experiences.

listen, I’m pretty sure he was that kid in middle school—the one everyone liked. Popular, friendly, Shy, and effortlessly cool, he had a ton of friends and was the kind of person people just gravitated toward

but deep down, he was still an introvert at heart. No matter how many friends he had or how much people loved being around him, he always cherished his alone time—it was his way of recharging

probably teacher favorite

after his parents were murdered, he retreated into himself, becoming a loner—a shadow of the person he once was. the bright, sociable kid who could light up a room disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, guarded shell

he shut everyone out—his friends, his teachers, anyone who tried to reach him.

communication felt impossible, like talking to a wall ready to crumble at the slightest touch. he became volatile, quick to anger and prone to violent outbursts.

the smallest thing could set him off and it was clear he was battling demons far too heavy for a child to carry

he was always getting into fights at school, over the most ridiculous things—someone looking at him the wrong way, a comment that barely made sense, or a passing remark. it didn’t matter how trivial; he’d snap.

it was like he was itching for a reason to lash out, just to feel something other than the numbness that haunted him

alfred was absolutely fed up every time the school would call. It was the same routine—another fight, another complaint.

his patience was wearing thin but he never showed it.

he’d just sigh, straighten his tie, and head to pick Bruce up, trying to stay calm while his mind was racing with how much things had changed

alfred probably thought about quitting a dozen times, especially during those rough moments. he was already carrying the weight of guilt over Thomas and Martha’s deaths, feeling like he’d failed them in some way.

but even through his exhaustion, he couldn’t walk away.

he simply couldn’t abandon Bruce, not when his parents had entrusted him with their son’s care, not when the boy was falling apart.

bc alfred knew that no matter how hard it got, he had to stay—because Bruce needed him, even if he didn’t always show it.

it’s pretty clear that Bruce really doesn’t have time for small talk.

that man goes straight to the point, no beating around the bush. sometimes, it’s like he forgets there’s a filter between his brain and his mouth—so he comes off way too blunt.

but, honestly, he just doesn’t see the need to waste time on unnecessary pleasantries.

if he’s got something to say, he’s saying it, no fluff.

Bruce absolutely loves car races (it's actually canon in the prequel book)

he’s got that need for speed, and nothing gets his adrenaline pumping like watching or being part of a high-stakes race.

it’s not just about the cars; it’s the whole atmosphere, the precision, the thrill of it all.

you can tell he’s got a real passion for it—just one of those things he doesn’t talk about much bc he rarely even talks that is

and so, naturally, he’s got a huge interest in F1

He’s got a serious passion for mechanics too—like, borderline obsession

favorite car is, without a doubt, his grandfather's Corvette (the one that makes an appearance in that iconic funeral scene)

another phase he went through during his late teens—but never really left—was his obsession with Nirvana

It hit him so hard that he even picked up an electric guitar because of it.

spending hours alone in his room trying to replicate their sound, teaching himself riffs from songs like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Lithium.”

it became an outlet for him, a way to channel his emotions without having to say a word

he wasn’t looking to impress anyone or form a band—it was just for him, a way to lose himself in the music. over time, he got pretty good at it, though he’d never admit it

and I think music became another refuge for him, a way to escape the chaos in his head

overall, though, he was a massive fan of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain

did date as a teenager, but it was never anything too serious

his heart was always more focused on Gotham—on his plans, his ambitions, and the legacy he was determined to create

relationships were never a priority for him back then; it was always about the bigger picture, the city that needed saving, the work that needed to be done.

gotham was always at the forefront of his mind, and nothing, not even the most charming date, could truly distract him from his ultimate goal

honestly, I don’t think he’s even a virgin. or maybe he is—who knows? but the prequel book did mention he knew his way around women, so it’s safe to say he’s no stranger to that side of things

was a straight-A student without even breaking a sweat. it just came naturally to him

fave subject was chemistry

he looks a lot like his mother but you could definitely see his father in him too—kind of a perfect mix of both, like a living blend of their best features

he inherited his mother jawline and hair

and his father eyes and nose

was really close to his paternal grandparents

they passed away when he was only seven, so his memories of them are more like faint impressions. but looking at the pictures on the fireplace, you can tell just how much they meant to him

according to Alfred, it was his grandparents who chose his name

never really knew anything about his maternal grandparents, except that they were long gone before he was even born. it was just one of those things he never thought to ask about, something his mother never spoke much about. it was as if they were just figures in the past, distant and forgotten, not even a whisper of a memory for him to cling to

he’s got a ton of distant cousins, most of them living over in Europe, but honestly he doesn’t talk to a single one of them. it’s not like he cares to, either.

that's another reason why Alfred ended up with custody. with all those distant relatives, none of them really stepped up and Bruce wasn’t exactly close to them anyway.

alfred was the one who had always been there, so it just made sense

didn’t mind being an only son, but deep down, he used to beg his mom for a sibling

comfort smell? It’s his mom’s perfume—lavender mixed with a hint of lemon

and Alfred cookies ofc

Bruce’s go-to comfort clothing is his dad’s old Harvard sweater—it’s just cozy and familiar.

as a kid, he’d call his mom "Mummy" or "Mama" and his dad "Papa."

most of his suits? Hand-me-downs from his dad. He’s only got a few of his own.His favorite sport is soccer—don’t ask why; it just makes sense.

Bruce has always been fascinated by his family’s history.

his dad used to tell him all these stories about their ancestors, and Bruce would listen so intently, always begging for more.

sure, the library had books on it, but hearing the stories from his dad just hit different. his dad’s voice made it all feel personal and alive.

oh, and he’s canonically descended from English royalty

his mom was really into gardening.

she loved her plants, especially lilies of the valley and Bethlehem stars.

Lily of the valley: sweetness and purity of heart.

Bethlehem star: hope and happiness.

she used to say they reminded her of his dad and Bruce.

Martha was also super into art and fashion.

she painted and was basically a Gotham fashion icon

because of her, Bruce was always dressed to impress as a kid

his dad, though, was the total opposite. Thomas Wayne’s tie was always crooked, and he had zero fashion sense

Bruce remembers how every morning, his mom would fix his dad’s tie and scold him about it, but Thomas would just kiss her to shut her up

at work, his dad was all about scrubs, and at home, it was pajamas and a robe

Bruce sometimes wears his dad’s robe now—it’s comforting

when it comes to fashion, Bruce is totally his dad’s son

if Alfred didn’t step in, he’d probably look a mess.

his dad loved photography and books

Bruce remembers how his dad used to take photos of his mom and him all the time

the library is packed with pictures of his family—mostly his mom and little Bruce

his parents’ love for each other was something else, and Bruce secretly dreams of having something like that one day

and deep down, he’s a total romantic. he gets that from his dad

he’s already decided that if he ever gets married, he’ll propose with his mom’s ring

a diamond blue sapphire ring

Alfred used to sneak him sweets before dinner (classic Alfred move)

they played chess a lot, though Bruce never actually won

Dory, his mom’s maid, was one of the midwives when Bruce was born

she’s also the one who taught him how to cook, and yeah, Bruce knows how to cook ( the essential at least )

everyone says he’s a cat person, but honestly, I feel he's more like a dog person. It just fits.

part 2 ?

or should I do dating headcanons ?

[the-ace-with-spades]

Bradley and Natasha get platonically married a few years into service and confuse the crap out of everyone.

They do it for a multitude of convenient reasons - they've been friends since flight school, they both accidentally found out they're bi but leaning toward same-sex attraction more, and had been each other's cover any time someone would start to suspect something. It comes up after Bradley puts Natasha as his next of kin and pension beneficiary (in case of death) and Natasha is like, 'you know, people are going to start questioning why we're so close'

So they don't give people a reason for suspecting - they make it official before. Nat doesn't talk to her family anymore and also makes Bradley her next of kin, they get a tax rebate, their health insurance is cheaper, they can evoke spouse privilege and get prioritised for base locations, keeping together. Married couples qualify for better housing as well and no one questions if they get a two or three-bed house, because you know, they're young, maybe they're planning to have kids soon. No one can treaten them with a DADT because who is going to believe that they're gay if they're married to each other, they have enough space that they can bring whoever they're dating back home without feeling like they need to do everything in secret.

Maybe, you know, whenever they're both alone and feel like it, they have some platonic sex...

Sure, maybe they're a weird couple - not that affectionate, not that open, talk to each other more like bickering best friends than lovers, maybe years go by and they still have no kids, maybe Natasha kept her surname, etc etc but it all could be swiftly avoided. We tried for kids but it didn't work, don't mention it around Nat/Bradley, he/she still feels guilty. We're best friends first, spouses second. The surname swap is a stupid tradition anyways. PDA is awful to see so why would we do something we don't wanna see others do?

The only real downside is that they can't be deployed together anymore.

When Jake meets Bradley after he gets re-stationed, Natasha is on deployment. They get close and closer, there's some flirting going on, and Jake is like 90% sure Bradley is not straight and is somewhat interested in him.

Push comes to shove and Bradley and Jake get deployed together (while Nat comes back home) and things continue and Jake gets 99% sure because damn, Bradley is fucking brave with how open he is with flirting, given where they are.

Then something happens and Bradley has an accident while onboard the carrier and Jake is there in the treatment bay and their CO comes around and asks Bradley, "Do you want me to call your wife, Bradshaw?" and Jake's whole world gets swept from under his feet. Because, you know, he was this close to fucking a married man.

And the worst thing is when they come back ashore and he finds out who is Bradley's wife - because Jake and Nat knew each other pretty well in USNA and he's not going to come into the mess that is their marriage.

Scratch that - the worst thing is that he can see Bradley does love Nat and that Nat loves Bradley and he doesn't know if he should say something to either. (He just doesn't know they love each other platonically only.)

They do stay married, even after DADT gets revoked, just because they're used to it now, and because the benefits are good, and really, neither of them are dating anyone seriously enough to go through the hassle.

Jake only realizes when after the mission years later, he sees Phoenix and Halo making out at the Hard Deck and tells Bradley "I think your wife is cheating on you with a woman, Bradshaw" and Bradley is like, "Yes, that would make sense given that she is a lesbian and all that."