#it isn't thundering or anything either so like

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[writeriguess]

Can you write a cute Katsuki x fem reader fic where he finds her crying her eyes out after her best friend cut ties with her over some rumour that isn't true?

Not You Too

Katsuki Bakugo was halfway down the dorm hallway when he heard it.

A choked sob. Sharp. Raw. Like someone was being ripped apart from the inside.

His entire body froze.

That sound didn’t belong in this building, not now, not at this hour. Not when most of 1-A was either passed out or out on a late-night patrol. But he knew it wasn't just anyone.

It was you.

He turned so fast he nearly punched a hole through the wall in his urgency to find you. Your door wasn’t shut all the way — a crack of warm light cut across the dark floor, and when he pushed it open, the sight of you crushed something deep in his chest.

You were curled up on the floor by your bed, arms wrapped around your knees, face blotchy and red from crying so hard it looked like your lungs had given up. You didn’t even notice him at first. You were too far gone.

Katsuki stood there for a second, fists clenched at his sides, heart thundering like he’d just survived a villain ambush. The air felt too thin. Too tight.

“…The fuck happened?”

You jolted, eyes wide and watery. “K-Katsuki—”

“Don’t try to lie,” he snapped, voice low, but not angry. Not like he usually was. He moved to kneel in front of you, arms stiff. “Someone hurt you.”

You looked away, bottom lip trembling. And that alone damn near broke him.

“It’s—it’s stupid,” you whispered. “You don’t need to worry about it—”

“Try me.”

Your breathing hitched, and when you looked at him again, he saw it. Everything you’d been holding back. All of it poured out.

“It was Hana,” you said, voice shaking. “She… she told everyone she couldn’t be friends with me anymore. Said I was spreading shit about her behind her back. Said I was trying to turn people against her.” Your eyes filled again, spilling over. “But I didn’t, Katsuki. I swear to god, I didn’t say anything—”

“Of course you didn’t.”

You stared at him, shocked. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you.” His voice cracked at the edges, and that scared him more than he’d admit. “You’re honest. You’re too good to pull some petty bullshit like that. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a damn idiot.”

Your lips trembled. Your shoulders shook. And you finally let yourself fall forward.

He caught you instantly, wrapping you into his chest like it was second nature. His arms locked tight around you — strong, warm, grounding — and for once, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

He just held you while you cried into his shirt, while his heart beat wild behind his ribs, screaming all the words he couldn’t say.

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need her. That she didn’t deserve someone like you. That anyone who turned their back on you didn’t understand the worth of what they had.

But more than anything, he wanted to say he loved you.

Not in some vague, half-assed way. Not in passing. But real. Sharp. Bone-deep. The kind of love that made his chest feel too tight when you smiled. The kind that made him furious when you were hurt.

But you didn’t know that. And right now, you didn’t need that.

So he just held you tighter, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, thumb stroking gently through your hair.

“She’ll regret it,” he said eventually, voice like gravel and fire. “They all will.”

Your breath caught. “Why?”

“Because you’re the best fucking person in this whole damn place.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. “And if they’re too blind to see it, then they don’t deserve you.”

Your gaze dropped to his mouth. Then back up.

You blinked. “Katsuki…”

“What?”

“…You’ve always been this good to me.”

“‘Cause I care about you.”

Your breath hitched again, but it sounded different this time. Like the air wasn’t so sharp in your lungs anymore.

“…I care about you too.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking over your face. He was so close. So stupidly close. And he wasn’t sure who leaned in first — maybe it was both of you — but the kiss was soft. Brief. Barely there.

When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, lips parted. But you weren’t crying anymore.

Katsuki exhaled slowly, voice rough when he said, “We’ll deal with the rest later. Right now, you’re staying right here. With me.”

You nodded.

And for the first time that night, you felt safe.

[steviewashere]

Thinking about a Steddie meet-ugly where they're rival cafe shop owners on the same street. Like, Eddie was there first and then Steve came along and stole all the thunder. And so, every day, it's just them trying to one up the other with their special drink of the day, changing up their menu, rating each other poorly online—even if they've never tried each other's drinks before.

And then, for some true angst value here:

Steve's cafe is robbed. He had locked up, had the security systems put in place, put the cashbox somewhere it wouldn't be noticeable—he thought he took all the precautionary measures and yet it happened anyway. The cash he had been saving to renovate the cafe, some of his prepped dough, various knick-knacks, a few important smaller pieces of equipment he used to bake some of his goods. All of it—gone.

He ends up needing to close the cafe indefinitely. Isn't sure what to do, who to go to. This cafe was his dream, when he finally found it, this is all he wanted to do with his time—make the same food and drinks that he'd learned to fend for himself with and make these items find warmth and love and meaning. Steve knows he can't go to his parents, they already fielded so much money to him to help make this happen—eventually cutting him off and severing him from the family for not failing like they thought he would; he can't prove them right. Robin wouldn't be able to help him, she's an in debt fine arts teacher and won't be able to give him any sort of money to help replace anything. And so, Steve runs fresh out of options.

He closes. He lets Eddie watch with a satisfied smirk. And he goes home.

Over the weeks that follow—the cafe is closed completely. Lease done, up for sale. And Steve doesn't know what to do, so he just begins walking that same little shopping strip. Up and down when he has to fill his days. Say hi to the regulars he used to serve, let them complain at him—sometimes even berate him for being so careless and stupid with his security, as if he hadn't already felt like dirt.

One day, he leads himself right through Eddie's door. He's craving a hot coffee. Just needs something, he isn't sure what. Just a pick me up. He's short, but he's polite with Eddie when he orders, "A black coffee, no additives. And...and how about a...an apple danish, please?"

He retrieves his order, squares himself away in a corner booth by the window. He'd tipped what was left of his cash. This is the last, big thing he gets to do while in this part of town and then it's...god, he doesn't even know what. Quits, for sure. Time to just face the music, go home to his parents, let them knock him down, take on a retail job or something, send himself through college, and—no, even all that's too ambitious for him on a normal day. He doesn't know what to do. Just sits there, sadly sipping his coffee, peeling bites from his danish as he stares out the window—the For Lease sign in his cafe.

Somehow, he loses complete track of time. So badly that he's there the rest of Eddie's work day. Right up to when it closes for the night.

"Steve, dude, you have to go home. I'm closing up shop."

He sighs. Realizes he didn't even finish his food or coffee. That he needs water. Needs to sleep. Needs...needs. "Sorry, man," Steve huffs. "Shit, sorry, I should go. Just...uh..can I please get a glass of water first? I know it's stupid, but I just—There's no running water at my place now. Couldn't cover the cost." It's mortifying to admit that out loud. Like redden his face and squirm his insides kind of mortifying.

Surprisingly, though, Eddie comes back with a tall glass of ice water. And then he sits down across from Steve. For the first time since they've known each other, there's concern on his features. "I didn't realize that cafe was doing so much for you," he comments.

"Honestly, I didn't realize either." He sips his water. Small things. Lets the ice clink. Lets the condensation drip down his already cold fingers. "I could take out a loan or something...but...no, it's not the same. I didn't earn that money. I don't need more debt. It's over."

"What is, Steve?"

"My dream, man. It's done. Run through. This was my last chance to prove myself." He lets his shoulders drop with his next sigh. Wants to fold into his own body and just cry. "And I fucked it. I don't know what I did wrong. I took every precaution in the book and I'm still out of luck."

"...I didn't realize this sorta business actually...actually meant that much to you."

"Of course it did! It always mattered to me!" Steve exclaims, throwing his hands up aimlessly. There's probably something completely wild slapped over his face. "They stole recipes from me—my nana's recipes! They...they took equipment...money...some of, like, my childhood knick knacks—which, by the way, shows me that maybe I shouldn't be so naive and trusting, I guess...can't trust anybody these days."

Eddie remains silent, thinking over what to do. He knows he's got his own security system. Security cameras...

"Has the police been able to ID this person?" he suddenly asks. And Steve just shakes his head. "We should check my security camera footage. It might've seen a new angle."

"It's no use, Eddie. They took everything. They"—

"But if you find out who did it, then maybe you can get everything back. Or at least most of it. Especially if they stole important mementos?"

"Why are you helping me? I mean...I appreciate it, but...you know that if I just get my stuff back and if I am able to reopen shop that we're just going to go back to the way we were, right?"

"Because this is my dream, too. My cafe, this dinky little shop, the regulars that I know on a first name basis, my uncle's own recipes shared to all these locals...all of it had been my little town dream, too. You should be able to get yours back."

And then, like, after 10k+ words of build-up, they still don't get Steve's robber identified and clued out. But, over the journey of this major mystery, Steve and Eddie have not only become friends, but boyfriends and—well Eddie's cafe because both of their dreams; recipes mixed and shared, Steve in the back baking and Eddie in the front tending. They both find their peace in what they do and the next time somebody tries to fuck them over, they're ready for it.

[quietplace26]

I just had an idea for Furina! Mc soulmate au.

So basically Furina has our dear index’s name written on her: and she’s nervous and excited (and fearful) about meeting her. But the issue comes when they first meet and he doesn’t have Furina- he has her old old name, MC.

And Furina like in the beginning was like internal- ‘it’s might be me- that’s that’s my name- it it might be me’ but over time (and being Furina for so long) that she’s like ‘okay probably not me, very heavily likely not me. I would know by now if it was me.’

Now I image at somepoint after the trial and all that Furina just needs to get away from everything: the (her) index, the people of Fontaine harassing her and just to be free of her acting. So she’s leaves and heads to chenyu vale and settles down there working at a tea house and one day Meets Zhongli (I image his soulmate is dead [Read: Guizhonh]) and those two kinda settle into a relationship.

Meanwhile our index knows something is seriously wrong because while previously he held a sixth sense of his soulmate being within Fontaine and now it’s just gone- outside of his reach and Fontaine has been thundering for days now.

This idea also works well with the exile and diary au’s!

Anyways your thoughts?

Oh, here we go! Note, this isn't gonna take place in either the exile or diary aus.

Well, to start us off, Furina!Mc original had no idea her soulmate was Neuvillette, because the scribbled across her wrist said Leviathan, his pre-Neuvillette Sovereign name.

It's only after meeting him for the first time does Furina!MC's wrist burn, signaling this was her soulmate!

.... Only, he never reacts to Furina!MC. And its only after 100 or so years that she finds out the name he has is orginal self's name. The one she had back in her past life. And Furina!MC... she finally let's go of her stinf hope for her soulmate, for hope that canon would be different.

Because there was no way, even with his name on her wrist, that Neuvillette would believe that her name. It didn't help that Furina!MC knew about his own view on her. A selfish, bratty Goddess.

Not at all worthy of Soulmate material...

So, fast forward to post prophecy, and Furina!MC finally leaves Fontaine. She didn't feel safe there, not with her people harassing her so viciously, the Steambird dragging her name through the mud, her house being vandalize, and so on.

And Neuvillette never did a thing. he offers some poor comfort, but he immediately turns his attention to more important matters.

Furina!MC was not an important matter, not anymore. Or was she ever?

It brings up the question that's always floating through head... if she ever told him her true name, would anything have been different? Would he had saved her from Focalors? Would he have stopped giving her cold stares, brushing her away...

So, she left, ignoring the throbbing pain coming from her wrist where Neuvillette's name laid...

...She eventually settles into Liyue, throwing her 'Furina' name, and taking back her old, rightful name of MC.

She found a small job at a tea house that didn't mind she was foreign, and things went from there... only for a few weeks after arriving to her new home, does she bump in Zhongli.

And suddenly, things start to change. For the better.

Zhongli knew who she was, but even so welcome her to his nation. He invites her out to tea and walks, they chat about this and that, and soon, MC starts to notice the pain she used to constantly feel on her wrist had begun to lessen...

...One day, while having tea in Zhongli's home, he brings up the topics of soulmates. He asks her if she had one... she answers honestly.

"I... I do, but... b-but he doesn't know it's me, and even then, he never-"

Her hands began to shake; her wrist starts burning again as she remembers all the cold and harsh moments between her and Neuvillette. How he never once defended her, how he ignored the abuse she went through from all of Fontaine-

"...If he knew, he would've immediately destroyed the mark."

She says it shakily but matter of fact. Because it's true. It only took her 400 years to finally come to terms with it.

Zhongli stays quiet, before shifting around to sit beside her on the couch taking off one of his gloves, and pulls down his sleeve-

There was a scar on his wrist. MC knew what that means. When a soulmate dies, their partner gains a scar over their dead partner's name...

He tells her about Guizhong, how much he loved her... only to lose her in the Archon war. He says he thought he lost the ability to love another like he did with her... until... MC.

MC looks at him with shock. It doesn't truly hit her what he was talking about until he took off his other glove and rolled down that sleeve to show-

Her name. It was still faint, but the more MC looked at it, the clearer it became.

She heard of this phenomenon, when a soul pair either loses a soulmate to either death or to them forcing their mark to fade because they didn't want them, on their other wrist, sometimes a second soulmate's name will appear.

So to see it happening with her name...

"Y-you like me? You... you want to l-love me?"

Zhongli nods, and MC cries with a weak but happy smile on her face as he brings her into a hug, and unknown to her, the name on her wrist that read Leviathan, starts to slowly fade, and on her other wrist, the name Morax slowly begins to form...

And back in Fontaine, a violent storm never before seen in Fontaine begins to form as Neuvillette stares down horrified as the name that's been his constant since he reincarnated as a human starts to fade away.

[ashkabbom]

Storm - Mouthwashing

A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator 🫶🏽

Versión en español en Wattpad: Libro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Cuenta: ashkabbom)

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Pre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader

synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night

Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.

Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.

It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.

Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.

Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.

Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.

You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.

Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-

"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.

Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.

"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."

He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."

"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"

Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.

Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.

Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.

"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.

"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"

Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.

"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.

"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.

You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.

It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.

Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.

You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...

He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.

Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.

You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.

"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.

You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"

"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."

"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.

"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.

You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.

You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.

So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.

The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.

Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-

"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand

"It's not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.

A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.🫶🏽🎀

[brisquad-unit-4402]

luxiem and noisy sex

hey guys sorry i was mia for a while you see it was because i was [DEAFENING EXPLOSION AND AFTERSHOCK FOLLOWED BY COLLAPSING DEBRIS, THUNDER CRASH, BICYCLE HORN SOUND EFFECTS]

tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader, smut, bottom/top or sub/dom not specified

⚠️ blow job mention in shu's entry

⚠️ mature content under read more. content under read more is not intended for minors

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland

relatively quiet. ike doesn't make a racket often— it's more likely that he'll either tease you with dirty talk and come-ons

but once his brain gets too fucked out to stay coy, he's all shaky breaths and little whines

you can hear him quivering under his breath, as if getting caught would be a problem

which it very much isn't

invite him to get a little louder if you want an adorably flustered, adorably hard novelist. he'll feel so dirty if you do, but at the same time, he feels like making noise proves how much he trusts you

if you're noisy:

even though he doesn't make much noise, sex with you isn't complete without coaxing such sweet squeaks out of you

he takes it as a challenge, trying to figure out which part of your body is most sensitive by how loud you react

it makes him feel so sexy, and desirable, and powerful no matter what position he's in

prefers when you can't form words anymore, only helpless cries. oh, and if you actually do cry? god, he'll remember that forever

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

brings a whole new definition to "loud in bed". like seriously, even if you've had noisy partners before, luca puts them all to shame without even trying

he reacts to almost everything, and it doesn't take him a lot to get there. sometimes you wonder if he's faking it, but no, he's just that aware of everything he feels

he starts out with exclamations, and somehow forms words all the way until the end of the night. the sentences stop making sense halfway through, and by the time he climaxes it's a miracle if he can even get through his words without tripping up

if you're noisy:

is he the luckiest guy in the universe or what? it feels great to have someone that gets what it's like to be loud

doesn't even care what you say or do as long as he can hear it. just being able to hear those noises has his engine revving

then again, when you're lips are pressed up to him and he can still hear the muffled sounds and your vibrating throat, he just wants to fuck until you both white out in the afterglow

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

shu doesn't take sex too seriously and just wants to have fun above all else, and you have to wonder if it's because he always laughs at least once when you sleep together

he's actually quite ticklish, and his moans sometimes end in giggles. they sound so sweet even though what you do under the covers is anything but

this is one of the few things he's actually insecure about. he's so worried that it might kill the mood or make his partner feel self conscious

don't take it personally. he whimpers plenty when he's not giggling, and the last thing he wants is a misunderstanding just because of how his body expresses pleasure

if you're noisy:

sometimes he wishes he could commit every one of your noises to memory. they're easily his favorite part of going down on you

he fantasizes about your voice getting excited often. if you're ever apart, he'd love to listen to you masturbate and call his name over the phone

hell, even hearing his name from your trembling lips has his cock throbbing, ready to fill that pretty mouth and give you something to really choke on

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

tends to make more guttural sounds. growls, hums, and purrs galore. vox doesn't even try to make them sound sultry, they're just so low and irresistible, as expected of the voice demon himself

but if you catch him off guard you might just make him squeak in surprise and satisfaction. he even stutters and trips over his words

which is something he gets embarrassed over, especially since all his other noises are still on the low end of the spectrum, but calling attention to it gets him even more aroused

great sex usually ends with high-pitched whimpers and gasps, and the best ones have him screaming as he orgasms

if you're noisy:

your noises make him so unbelievably horny, you have no idea. the second he realizes you're loud, he wants nothing more than to hear you all night

it's a huge ego boost and fuels him to keep pushing his limits. anything to keep you crying out for him

he'll goad you into responding to his dirty talk just so he can hear you whimper in-between your words

whether you want to be praised or degraded, he tries to mention your voice and noises as much as he can since it's all he can think about

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[lovelyhan]

— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

[luveline]

idk if you’ve done a request like this before but maybe roan (sweetest girl ever) gets moody and says something mean or does something mean to reader and maybe reader gets really sad over it and eddie helps roan apologize or make it better?

thank you you for your request! eddie and roan. fem!reader, 2k

Roan's hair is softer than her father's but twice as unruly. You hum and haw over what to do with it —she wants it out of her face because the weather is so, so hot today, your hands clammy even now, but lately she's complained about hairpin headaches. 

"Ready for brushing?" you ask. 

"No." Roan squirms in your lap. "Can you just put it up, please?" 

You nibble your bottom lip. You don't necessarily need to brush it, she's not going anywhere. She's lovely with or without neat hair, but… 

"I don't want it to get matted," you say, almost to yourself rather than her. 

"I want to go play," Roan whines.

You don't wince at her derision nor her impatience. She and her handsome father are the people you love most in the world, and to be able to do that, you've had to adapt to how children react. They can't control their bad moods with half the expertise of adults (though some of the adults you know can't do it, either). They need wiggle room.

And affection, undoubtedly. 

You stroke her hair back from her face. She jerks away from your touch. 

"Ro, I'm sorry," you say, in an attempt to assuage her unhappiness. Her fuse can be rather short. You'll all be happier if you can snub this flame before she has a meltdown. "I'm just trying to think of how best to do this, that's all. Can you give me a second?" 

Hair up? Clips out of her face? You know she's not in the best mood, and sometimes elaborate hairstyles make her feel better, but you can tell what she wants now is to be by herself with her dolls in the cool breeze of her standing fan. Simple ponytail, you decide. You and Eddie will just have to deal with any knots that happen when they happen–

"You're not good at hair, I should've asked dad," Roan declares, jumping off of your lap. 

You're startled, with barely the wits to say, "Hey, don't be like that, honey, I can do it–" 

"No, you can't do it." She snatches the hairbrush from you and turns the other way. "Dad will do it faster." 

"Hey," Eddie says, as though summoned by her mention. He stands in the doorway to the living room, a familiar yet foreign look on his face as he towel dries his wet hands. "Why are we talking to each other that way?" 

"Because she's slow!" Roan says, agitated, hands in fists at her sides. 

"Hey, no. I don't know why you're feeling unhappy, but being mean isn't going to make it go away. You don't talk to people like that, especially Y/N," Eddie says. His dark, thick brows furrow with frustration. 

Roan visibly gets more upset. 

"You want to go have five minutes?" Eddie asks her.

She throws her hairbrush on the floor and pushes past his legs, her footsteps like pangs of thunder as she stomps up the stairs. "Ugh!" she shouts. 

Eddie frowns at her as she goes but doesn't call anything more. You clasp the back of the couch in unsteady hands, a weird, strangling pressure wrapped around your throat like a hand. Your sides ache at your twisted position. 

Eddie, to his credit, isn't mad. He toes aside the thrown hairbrush with a confused pout. "What the hell just happened?" he asks. 

You're not sure. Roan's not happy because she's overwhelmed by the inescapable heat of summer, her TV volume is stuck slightly too loud at 27, and she didn't like the broccoli Eddie asked her to eat at lunch. Your slow hairstyling was the last straw, evidently. 

It hurts to have her angry at you. Hurts that she thinks you aren't measuring up to her father. 

You rub your eyes. "My fault. Couldn't get the brush through her hair 'n' took too long putting it up." 

Eddie lights up. You used to think it was theatrical, how he performs his affection, but the longer you know him, the clearer it becomes that he's just a dramatic guy. He sidles up to the couch and takes your face into both hands. 

"Not your fault," he says gently. Then, with more gusto, "She's grumpy, I'm sorry she took it out on you."

You try to play up to his bravado and find your own performance falling flat. "Yeah." 

His thumbs draw soft lines on your cheeks. You really like coparenting with him (though it feels a little weird to put it that way, and also very right) but in moments like this, you remember how much you love being his partner. How much you want him to kiss you and think you're pretty and smart and perfect. Eddie kisses the top of your head and gives you a hug over the couch, squeezing the tops of your shoulders, your face pressed to his neck. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"No, it is. She's not having a good day, but I don't want her to be someone who takes it out on other people." He drops his lips to your forehead. "I'll go talk to her in a bit. Try not to take it personally, sweetheart. She knows how much you love her 'n' she knows she can be unreasonable with you like she is with me and Wayne. Blessing and a curse." 

You're reassured by the idea. Roan's showing off with you because she knows you're not going anywhere. She's moody and you'd been the first one to make a mistake with her today.

"I'm good at hair," you say unsurely. 

"You're great. Me and Ro have looked like a pair of Abercrombie models since we met you," he praises. 

"Think she's gonna be mad at me all day?" you ask. 

"Babe, you're mad at her." 

"I'm not," you say. 

"You're supposed to be." He gives your shoulder a rough rub. "I'm gonna go talk to her. Don't be upset, yeah? You're amazing." 

You accept a clumsy forehead kiss. 

Eddie leaves to soothe Roan's mood. You can imagine it now, his hip propped on the door jam, his unimpressed but patient look. You know we can't talk to each other like that, Ro. Even if we're not feeling good, we have to try to be nice. Do you know what's making you grumpy? Can I fix it for you?  

It's easy to guess what he's saying because you've heard it all before. He's a good dad. He might not always feel that way, but he is. 

You're not worried about Roan in any grand sense. She'll be okay. You're scared that what she said is true —you're not as good as Eddie at doing her hair. You're not as good as him at lots of things. 

You feel inferior to Eddie often as a parent. It's a given, considering that he's her primary caregiver, and has been since the day she was born. That's years of bonding and love you can't touch (wouldn't want to touch, really, wouldn't ever want to change how it happened at risk of messing up what you have now). You're not even really her official stepmom yet. 

What if Roan loved you because she was too young to know better? What if you're not good enough to take care of her?

Little footsteps drag down the stairs, followed by louder ones. You sniff and wipe the stressed tears that had been collecting in your eyes away, relieved to see Roan looking a little less enraged in the door. Eddie gives you a startled look at your expression, for which you can only offer a small smile. 

Roan doesn't mind the walk, standing in front of you where you're still sitting on the couch with ease. She glances at your lap where you clutch her hair ties in both hands, rubbing her own together guiltily. 

"Hi," you say hopefully. 

Roan looks at Eddie. You watch him nod from the corner of your eye. 

"I'm really sorry," Roan says. "For being mean." 

"That's okay," you say, holding your hand palm up atop your thigh, just in case. 

"Dad said you'd say that, but…" She eyes up your hand. You push it forward, and when she takes it, you draw an encouraging circle into her skin. "'Cus you love me, you don't get angry, but…" 

"What did you tell me, sweetheart? You can tell her. It's okay," Eddie prompts. 

Roan looks up. Brown eyes wide but soft brows pinched together unsurely, she says, "I didn't mean that you do hair badly. Please don't stop doing my hair, and kissing my cheek in the morning. Um, and playing dress up with me." 

"I'm not gonna stop doing those things," you say softly. Internally, you're relieved. "I love doing those things."

"Roan shouldn't have been mean," Eddie interjects. "Right?" 

"No, but she was having a bad day," you say, giving her hand a little swing. "Yeah? That's okay. I have bad days too, and I say things I wish I didn't." 

Roan looks uneasy. "You're not mad at me?" 

"Do you want me to be?" you tease gently. 

"No," she says through a shy laugh. Her stomach presses to your knee as she steps forward. "I didn't mean it about my hair."

"I know." 

She puts her hands up for you to pull her into your lap. You're more than willing to oblige, tucking her head under your chin. She's small in your lap. 

"I love looking after you," you murmur into her hair. "It's my favourite job. I know I'm not as good as daddy at things, but I didn't get all the training he got." 

"You're just as good as dad," Roan says. 

"You're better," Eddie says. 

You turn your head to grin at him. "Not true, but I'll keep trying, Ro. I'll get it." 

Roan fights to escape your tucking, her head tilted back, the blue glow from the fish tank cooling her face. "I love you now," she says. 

"Aw," Eddie says, though he looks shocked at himself, like it had slipped out unbidden. 

"I love you too," you say. More than you can explain. 

She puts her hand on your collar. "I'm sorry," she says again. 

"She knows, babe," Eddie says, flopping down onto the couch next to you both. 

"I forgive you straight away," you agree, rubbing the short breadth of her back lovingly. "It did make me sad, worrying you didn't think good things about me, but it's okay. I know you were getting annoyed. You couldn't help it." 

Roan's smile is so relieved you can't stop yourself from taking her face into two hands and planting kisses into the heart of her hairline. 

"Love you, silly," you say. 

"Share!" Eddie demands, his weight on your arm. 

Roan giggles as she's painted in kisses. Eventually, when her rosy cheeks have been covered inch to inch by kisses and she's so loved up her eyes are shining, she pushes you both away and holds her hands out. "I need space." 

You and Eddie laugh breathlessly and lean back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder. 

The older she gets, the more things like this are going to happen. She's going to have opinions, and expectations for you and Eddie. She's going to want space —she's going to need it, like she said. You don't mind giving her what she needs even if it is an adjustment, and even if she does aim her outbursts at you when she's overwhelmed. You do wish you could curl a strand of her hair around your finger, or stroke her cheek, but then she puts her hands on your shoulder. She's still blushing. 

"You're the best mommy ever," she says. 

"Did you tell her to say that?" you ask Eddie. 

"No way," Eddie says, dropping his head onto your other shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. "She just knows the truth, babe. I didn't have to tell her anything about it." 

[noodle-is-unstable]

The Hunt

All of my writing is completely Gender Neutral Reader. There is no reference to gendered body parts (Imaging a Ken Doll if you will). Due to this I use more vague language, and nothing is as specific or specified. Please be advised this writing style isn't for everyone and it is okay to skip.

Ft ~ Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Reader Kink ~ Primal Play Synopsis ~ Sukuna has a wild side, so when you invite him to indulge in it, he really lets loose Content Warning ~ 18+, Smut, rough sex, monster cocks, biting, claiming, possessive behavior, scratching, outdoors, fingering, Idk Adult Content.

4.6K Words, I don't proof read

Based off this SMAU

Where are you?  Why are you not in your room?

You squint at the message on your screen. You weren’t sure you were reading it correctly even.  Why was Sukuna looking for you, and in your room no less.  It was  perplexing but there was an aura about the message you couldn’t quite place.  Aggression?  No, it was more than that.  Desperation?  No, it wasn’t that either.  It lived somewhere in between the two.  Then it hit you.  Lust.  But why you?  Why now?  Sukuna had concubines in spades, if all he had was lust.  Though the motive still puzzled you, the one thing you could guarantee was that this was some form of lust and need.  You weren’t stupid.  You always noticed that Sukuna had a fondness for you.  Always seeking you out for some reason or another.   He'd show up while you were working to have a battle of sass.  The way he would somehow always be looming, at least one cheek eye on you. The way you sassed him and always bit back intrigued him.  Not once did you bow to him, even when he threatened to take your head.  You simply raised your chin to give him a better sight on where to cut.  You refused to call him Lord, King or anything but Sukuna.  He lived for the fight you brought him.  Never submitting to him.  Today, all of that would change. 

Keeping tabs on me now?

Why are you in my room?

Neither questions really needed to be answered, the second you hit send you took off.  Your legs carried you at an almost inhumane pace into the forest behind the estate.  Even with a head start Sukuna was faster than you.  Stall him.  You had to stall him, buy yourself precious seconds.  You felt like a mere rabbit, and Sukuna was an apex predator.  You didn’t stand much of a chance once he found you so it was simply delaying the inevitable.

It’s not your place to ask questions.  I’ll give you one opportunity, come to my chambers and I’ll be gentle

Heat coursed through your body at the message.  Your suspicions were confirmed.  Sukuna was finally taking what he wanted.  All the playful pushing, all that time spent trying to make him break, to make him take you, it was finally here.

And if I don’t?

You sent, legs still moving as fast as you could.  Your lungs burned as you sprinted. Jumping and ducking branches.  Scrapes and scratches began to cover your skin the further into the dense forest you went.

I’ll hunt you down

You paused to read Sukuna’s text.  Was your heart beating so rapidly from running or him?  This was something you’ve been wanting for so long.  A dream.  Yet here you were, in the forest, this message in your hand.  Through labored breaths you began to type.

That’s what I figured

I’ve been running since your first message

Dead.  You were about to be so dead.  Ruined, ravished, ripped apart, but damn it, you couldn’t wait.  Even taking this moment to breath and relish in the anticipation was dangerous. You were wasting precious seconds.

What a sly minx

I’m going to destroy you when I catch you

Heat went straight to your core at his words.  You were sure he would, in fact you were hoping for it.

That was the plan

Let the hunt begin 💖

You sent off a final text before beginning to run again.  It was small, but it was your way of giving Sukuna consent to do as he pleased with you once he found you.  No matter how far your head start was though, he was going to find you.  Like thunder you heard cracking behind you.  That bastard was dismantling the forest, with you in it.  Was he trying to kill you?  No, he knew you were strong.  This was just a part of his game, to see if you were truly worthy.  Winds like a cyclone whipped past you, cuts appearing over your body, shredding your clothing at the same time.  You never stopped running.  Even as the forest fell, even as the thundering cracks grew closer, you kept running.  That was until you felt it, a full force dismantle coming your way.  Diving for the forest floor, you stared up as trees practically disappeared to dust.  He would have shredded you into oblivion if you didn’t dive, but he didn’t, because you’re you.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumbled, breathing heavily.

“You called?” Sukuna's face appeared above you, cocky and devilish smirk.  No, not yet.  You weren’t ready to be caught yet.  You knew you’d pay for it later, but for now, you did the only thing you could think of.  Bending almost in half, your legs wrapped around Sukuna’s neck.  All four eyes went wide as his neck sat between your thighs.  With all the force you  could muster, you brought your legs back down, throwing him over you and slamming him into the ground.  You didn’t have time to apologize, managing to scramble away in his stunned state.  Risking a quick glance back as you ran, you saw him sitting up.  He was smiling.  Watching you run with a hunger he has never felt before.  As much as you both wanted each other, there was one truth you both knew.  The thrill of the hunt was just as alluring as the catch.  

There was no point in running through a forest that was as flat as a prairie now.  You continued sprinting but it was more aimless now.  There was no cover or places to hide.  You were completely exposed and in the open.  You may be strong but in a fight of raw power against Sukuna you’d lose.  Your running came to a halt as you stood before a cliff's edge.  The ocean beating against the rocky wall.  

“Nowhere left to run.” Sukuna’s voice was a low rumble.  You knew when you were bested but this wasn't it.  Not yet. You weren't done yet.

“Guess so.” You shrug, turning to him, but your smile gave it away.  His eyes narrowed as you took a step back, letting yourself fall from the cliff.  Only you didn’t, not fully at least.  You managed to twist your body mid air and grab on just below the ledge.  Holding your breath a shadow eclipsed the sun.  Sukuna had dived off the cliff after you.  A smile fell on your lips as your eyes met, his face contorting as he realized what just happened.  You wasted no time, clamoring back up the cliff and taking off running again.  An echoing splash sound coming from behind you.  There was nowhere left to run.  Your options were going for a swim, back to the estate, or back to the cleared forest.  Sukuna and his four arms had an unfair advantage in the water.  You weren’t willing to put those at the estate in danger of Sukuna’s warpath.  That only left the flattened forest.  He was going to catch up.  There was nowhere left to run, no more tricks to be had.  Even knowing you were done for you kept running.  What was the fun in just giving up?  The hunt was just as alluring as the catch after all.

It was like there was fire in your lungs as you sprinted.  Your heart was pounding in your chest, soon it would all be over.  The chase would be done.  All this running and fighting would be for not.  Still, you’d get your long awaited reward in the end.  Then you felt it.  Rain.  Only there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.  A wet hand wrapped around the back of your neck.  Tripping over the sudden pressure to your upper body you landed face down into the mossy ground.  A wet knee dug into your back, pressing you further down into the forest floor.

“Got you minx.” Sukuna growled into your ear.  His soaked body had cool water droplets falling onto your searing hot skin.  Sure, you could wiggle, scratch or thrash but you weren’t getting out of this.  You knew when you were  bested.

“Yeah?  So what now?” You asked, doing your best to look back at him.  For only a moment his hungry expression faded to something softer.

“That’s up to you.” He almost sighed, all four eyes searching for any form of confirmation to continue.  You wondered if he was this soft with everyone, even if he had your face pressed into the dirt.

“You caught me, didn’t you?  Take whatever prize you see fitting.” You gave a choked smile.

“Even if that prize is you?” Sukuna leaned down, placing his face on the ground beside you to completely meet your gaze.  The soft shade of green from the moss made his eyes seem all the more red.  His hair was soaked, dripping and being absorbed into the ground.  The weight of his knee and the grip on the back of your neck lessened.  In fact he removed both.  He swallowed hard as he waited for an answer and you realized what was happening.  Sukuna was giving you a chance to escape.  It was more than that though.  All of this was.  This entire thing was more than just hungered lust.  Even his question, ‘even if the prize is you?’, it wasn’t about sex.  This was more than that.

“You can run if you wish.  I won’t chase you anymore.” Sukuna looked away from you, his words sounding broken.  You had taken too long to respond, too engrossed in your own thoughts.  You reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand.  His eyes snapped back to yours.  This scenario was ridiculous.  Both of you face down in the mossy dirt, the smell of forest and plant decay in the air.  The King of Curses face down, ass up just to meet your gaze.

“If I ran, I’d want you to chase me.” You watched as his eyes darted between yours, trying to see if your words were true.  “So if you want your prize, you probably shouldn’t let it go.” You leaned in, giving his nose a kiss before jumping back and running again.  You turned back to see him smiling like a love struck maniac.  He didn’t move, he was just watching you in awe.  Even if you wanted to be caught, to be taken, to be used, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.  Perhaps that’s why he longed for you so badly.  Unlike anyone he had ever known, in his past life and this one.  Your soul was special, you were special.  You and you alone were worthy to be called his, to be claimed by him.

Your body suddenly halted when you were once again tackled to the ground.  You were turned on your back this time though.  A hand caged your neck to the ground, it wasn't squeezing or pressing, it was simply there to prevent your head from moving.  Another hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other two beside your shoulders, not allowing them to move.  Sukuna was straddling you, knees pressed firmly to your hips.  You were in a human cage, immobilized and unable to escape.

You both sat frozen, panting and taking in the moment.  Sukuna was still wet from his swim, cold drops of water leaving goosebumps on your skin.  Sukuna’s breath came out as steam in the cooling air.  Sunset.  Had you really been running from him for this long?  Even in the dimming light you could see the dark hunger in his eyes.  Still he was holding back.  What was he waiting for?  Seconds that felt like minutes past and he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Take your prize Ryomen.” A guttural growl escaped his lips, his eyes getting impossibly darker.

“Say it again.” His voice was strained, like he was trying to hold back what little sanity he had left.  “Say my name again.” His grip around your neck tightened.  One word, and it would drive him to the edge.  One word to push him to the brink of insanity.  You, saying his name.  That wasn’t good enough though.  You didn’t want him on the edge, you wanted him to snap, to completely lose it.

“Come on.  If you want me, then take me and claim me, Ryo.” The nickname rolled off your tongue like a siren song.  The second the last syllable fell from your lips you felt a sharp pain on your shoulder.  Teeth.  Sukuna sunk his teeth into your  shoulder, hard enough to puncture the skin.  A choked gasp escaped your throat at the sudden sensation.  His tongue was flicking around the indents where his teeth sat, lapping up the blood that was coming from you. 

“Mine.” Sukuna managed to snarl out as he pulled away, admiring his work.  You could feel the warm blood spilling from that spot, a stark contrast to the cold forest floor.  He began to move his hand to hover above the area.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You hissed at him.  He was going to heal it, seal off the beautiful mark he had just given you.  A smile fell on his lips as his eyes met yours once again.

“This is why you are worthy to be my prize.” Sukuna purred, his grip on your neck tightened, pulling you up to meet his lips.  Warm.  That was your first thought when your lips connected.  Even though he was cold from the water his lips were warm.  Tingling like lightning where your lips connected.  Soft, warm, welcoming, comforting.  The kiss wasn’t needy or rushed, but passionate.  His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, freeing your airways and deepening the kiss.  A light nibble to your bottom lip, his tongue finding its way into your mouth.  He tasted like smoked honey, a slight hint of iron lingering from the blood he licked earlier.  Intoxicating.  Being this close to him, being this intimate with him, him.  He was intoxicating.  You felt like you were floating.  More.  You needed more.  Nails dug into the hand that trapped your wrists.  Your back arched, pathetic whimpers swallowed by Sukuna.  The way you squirmed had him going crazy, no, more than crazy.  He was going feral.  Your scent, your taste, knowing his mark was on you, it had him losing his sense of reality.  His lips moved from yours to leave wet kisses along your jaw.  Nipping at the skin as he went.  He made his way down your neck, only pausing to leave a soft kiss on the deep mark he had made.

He laid your head back down, moving his hand to your torn shirt.  He didn’t hesitate for a moment, ripping the fabric off to leave your torso exposed to him.  All four eyes were darting around your body, taking in every detail, committing it to memory.  Sharp nails dragged down from the base of your neck to your sternum, a red trail left in their wake.  A choked gasp escaped your lips as Sukuna latched onto one of your nipples.  His fingers pinched and pulled the other.  Whining mewls rolled off your tongue, desperately arching your back.  You weren’t sure if you were trying to push into him more or escape his grasp, all you knew was your body was reacting to his every move.  His teeth scraped against you, gently tugging and sucking as his tongue flicked.  His fingers made sure to give your other nipple equal attention.  Pulling, rolling and pinching it, sharp nails digging in.  You couldn’t keep focus, eyes rolling back and needy whimpers floating through the air.  You were so engrossed by the feeling you hadn’t noticed the hand that was beside your head moved.  It was only when you felt cold air on your legs you realized.  He had shredded the last remaining bit of clothing you had on.

There you laid, on the forest floor, sticks and rocks poking into you, completely naked.  Sukuna had removed his mouth from you, eyes taking in everything you had to offer.  He was at a loss for words, an image better than he had dreamed.  Every concubine he pretended was you.  Every wasted load of cum in his fist to the thought of you.  Nothing compared to the actual sight.  He couldn’t have dreamed of such perfection.  He was going to ruin you.

His hand freed your wrists, moving to cage your neck in place once again.  You watched as he moved a hand to his mouth.

“What are you-” You were cut off when he squeezed your neck, literally stopping the words in your throat.  

“I don’t need to cut your insides up in an attempt to prepare you.” Sukuna scoffed.  Your brows furrowed as you watched him.  He was biting the nails short on one hand.  

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” Sukuna was dead serious. He always had at least one eye on your face to gauge your reactions.

“Stop treating me like I’m fragile.” You reached over, grabbing the front of his robe to pull his face to yours.  “I don’t break so easily.” Sukuna let out a guttural groan.

“Let’s test that then, shall we?” He held his hand with the shortened fingernails to your mouth.  You happily let them in, coating the middle and ring finger with spit.  Your eyes never left his as you swirled your tongue around and sucked his fingers.  Pure lust and need glossed his crimson eyes, watching you with a hunger that only taking you could satisfy.  He removed his fingers from your mouth, a thick spit trail following.  Sukuna sucked your drool off his fingers, quickly replacing it with his own.

“Sweeter than candy.” He purred, licking his lips.  His words had your heart pounding.  Sukuna repositioned himself between your legs.  Moving the hand that sat around your throat he hooked it under your leg, pressing your knee to your chest.  His drool covered fingers circled your entrance.  He was barely touching you but you were already shivering and whimpering.  Slowly he pushed a finger in.  Just a single finger had you stretching, had you feeling beyond full.  You gasped, back arching, your eyes rolling back.

“Don’t pass out yet Minx, we’re just getting started.” True to Sukuna’s nature, he was sadistic.  A second finger was plunged into you.  For a moment you saw white.  It was so much, so good.  

“You’re right, you don’t break easily.  I’d expect nothing less from my Minx.” Sukuna began to pump his fingers in and out of you.  “My prize.” His fingers slammed into you harder.  “Mine.” His pace picked up.  You were seeing white in your vision.  Your body tensed, a knot forming in your throat as Sukuna ruined you on his fingers.  “Mine, my minx, only mine, all mine.” He growled.  He laid his body into you, pushing your leg down further.  You let out a pleasure filled wail as Sukuna sunk his teeth into your other shoulder.  Fingers laced into his hair, roughly pulling at the roots as you came.  His fingers slowed but his bite sunk in more.  You could feel his mouth vibrating, as the ringing in your ears faded you heard him chanting ‘mine’.  A second, deep puncture mark.  Warm blood trickling out.  As Sukuna’s teeth sat in your shoulder you looked to the sky.  It was dark now.  Stars dancing overhead, twinkling down on you both.  His.  All his.  You wondered if these were the same stars Sukuna saw in the Heian Era.  Your grip on his hair softened as you came down from your climax.  Soothing circles massaged into his scalp instead.  His fingers were still lazily thrusting and curling into you.

A pitiful whimper left your lips when he pulled his fingers from you.  Empty, you felt so empty.  The feeling only grew when he released his bite too.  Matching marks on either shoulders.  Deep, harsh imprints of his teeth.  Watching as Sukuna began to undid his robes, you may have felt empty now, but you’d be full soon.  Your jaw dropped with his robe.  A god in the flesh, a fallen angel, a dream.  Large, toned muscles all over his body, flexing with his every movement.  Your eyes traced down his abs until you saw teeth.  A large smiling mouth on his abdomen.  Following his happy trail down stood two cocks.  Both swollen, trying to stand tall but sagging from the sheer weight of them.  You were going to die, but damn what a way to go.

Sukuna leaned back over you, two hands by your head, the other two digging into your hips.  One of his monstrous tips poked at your entrance, the other dragging along the curve of your ass.  Sukuna moved so his forearm sat in front of your mouth.

“Bite.  This’ll hurt.” Sukuna instructed you.  You simply stared at him like he was crazy.  You weren’t about to bite his forearm.  When you pushed his arm to the side he looked at you confused.

“You marked me, it’s only fair I do the same.” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you.  Once he was almost flush to your body, you placed your mouth on his shoulder.  Precum leaking from his tip, coating your entrance as he waited.

“Ready?” Sukuna whispered in your ear once he felt your teeth on his skin.

“Mhm.” You mumbled against his flesh.  He slowly began to press in.  As he entered you, your teeth sunk into him more. The further he pushed, the harder you bit.  The stretch from his cock was nearly unbearable, truly a monster of an appendage.  You snarled as your teeth dug deeper into him, the iron taste of blood filling your mouth.  Sukuna was letting out guttural grunts in your ear as he continued to stretch you.  Your nails raked down his back as you tried to contain his cock. You were going to die. This monster of a man was going to be the death of you.  Then you felt it, his hips flush to your ass.  Did you really take him in his entirety or had you blacked out, died or dreamt this.

“No one has taken me fully before.” Sukuna’s breathy voice pulled you back to the present.  He seemed to be just as shocked and dazed as you were.  Coming back to reality you removed your teeth from his shoulder.  You let your head fall just below his.  Sukuna brought a hand to your face and swiped his thumb over your cheek, a cold, wet sensation followed behind it.  You didn’t even realize that tears had spilled over.

“My Minx.” Sukuna whispered, licking the tear off his thumb.  The pained, stretched feeling slowly faded.  You still felt full, absolutely stuffed, but it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ryomen.” Your body trembled around him.  He looked at you with a pleased smile.

“My name sounds so good falling from your lips Minx.” Sukuna purred, kissing your tear stained cheeks with glee.

“Still not broken.  So why don’t you fuck me until your name is the only word I can scream.” You could feel Sukuna’s cock twitch in you.  Such filthy words, such a masochist, his perfect being.  Two arms wrapped around the top of your head, the other two death gripping your hips.  He would make you regret those words.  The second he had you locked in place he began a hellish pace.  Fast, skull rattling, hard, rough.  He'd pull almost completely out before slamming into you again, his firm grip forcing you in place.  Rocks and sticks from the forest floor dug into you as Sukuna pounded you stupid.  The way his cock dragged and hammered into your sweet spot with every thrust had you seeing spots.  Tongue hanging from your mouth, your braincells being forcefully fucked out of you.  You were going dumb, absolutely braided on his brutish cock.  Cumming, cumming, cumming, you had to cum.  It was so much.  Your body began to convulse, your vision going white.

“Say my name.” Sukuna growled into your ringing ears.  “Scream my name when you cum.” He demanded.  Of course, you obliged.

“Ryomen!  Ryo!  F-Fuck!” You cried out,  tears spilling from your eyes, broken cries and overstimulated whimpers. Your ears rang, a floating feeling of pure bliss.  Sukuna then stopped all movement, this was somehow more painful than him stretching you.  Words escaped you as you whimpered and whined, back arching, trying to get some form of friction.

“Not done yet.”  Sukuna grunted.  Even in your dazed state you understood.  He stopped so he wouldn’t cum.  He didn’t want it to end yet.  You couldn’t muster words, but you gently cupped his face and gave him a nod.  More.  You wanted everything and anything Sukuna had to offer.

“You were made for me, Minx.  My precious Minx.” Sukuna cooed.  Your brows furrowed when you felt him pull out.  So beyond empty.  Like your soul was snatched from your body.  The look you gave him almost broke his heart.  A look of pure betrayal, a look like he abandoned you.

“Don’t you think the other cock deserves a feel?” Sukuna chuckled at your outraged expression.  You softened your scowl when you learned of what he was doing.  “So needy.  Don’t worry, I’ll stuff you full again.” He smirked.  The cock that was once in you fell onto your stomach.  It was heavy, damp and warm.  The one that was rubbing against your ass was now pushing its way inside of your stretched hole.  Though the stretch wasn’t as painful this time, it still knocked the breath out of your lungs.  Stretched beyond repair, stretched to the shape of him, fitted perfectly to him.  His hips, flush with your ass once again.  There was no warning this time.  The hands that once caged your hips now pressed your knees to your face.  Sukuna forced you into the deepest mating press of your life.  His hips snapped erratically, there was no rhythm this time, just a carnal need to feel you around him.  A need to chase his climax and feel you cum around him.  You were still sensitive from your last orgasm.  In this position his cock was constantly pressing against and abusing your sweet spot.  You weren’t going to last, You couldn’t last.  Every thrust hit the oxygen out of your lungs, choked out mewls and moans echoing in the air.  He was close.  He just needed to feel you pulsate around him with your own climax.  He needed to hear you say it.  He needed to hear you cry out his name.  Your eyes rolled back, overstimulated tears spilling from your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

“R-Ryo.  Ryomen.” You choked out, your body completely constricting around him, attempting to milk him dry.  The squeezing sent him over the edge, cum filling you while the cock that was on your stomach came all over your torso and face.  You were painted white, inside and out.  The moment your climax ended, your body went limp.  Drained of everything you possibly had to offer.  So, so full.  Full of his seed and his softening cock.  Sukuna slowly released you from the mating press. Sukuna slowly lifted you to his chest, soft cock keeping warm in your core.  You sat on his lap and he held you to him.

“My precious Minx.” He placed a kiss on your temple, soft and lingering.  Then his robe wrapped around you.  Resting against his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat.  You could barely keep your eyes open but you could see it, the soft yellow glow over the horizon.  Sunrise.  You had been out all night.  You were tired.  So tired, and Sukuna’s embrace was so comforting.  He stood up, keeping you wrapped in his arms and robe.

“Come Minx, I’ll get you cleaned up before we go to my chambers to rest.” His voice was soft and soothing.  Another kiss was placed on the crown of your head before he began to walk.

About the Kink: Primal Play is a form of sexual activity in which partners leave behind the more “rational” or “logical” sides of themselves and tap into their animal instincts. This might involve animal role play, grunting, snarling, or other animal-like noises. Not all primal play is non-verbal, but it often is. How to Practice the Kink Safely:

With any kink it's important to have a safe word, action and sound. The action is in case it's not possible to be verbal. The sound is incase it's not possible to make words or move. Pick something easy to remember and wouldn't come up naturally. Eg. Red, 3 fast taps, 3 repeating grunts

Consent is key in this roleplay. Consent can be taken away at any time and its important to check in to make sure both parties are still eager and willing participants. Boundaries should be discussed beforehand. Things like how hard is it okay to bite, is scratching okay, and how rough is it okay to be. Practicing bite strength on sensitive areas like the inner thigh or wrist will give a general idea. Remember to use safe words or actions if things escalate beyond comfort. With things like biting and scratching if the skin is broken medical attention may be needed. Human bites are extremely germ filled and should be cleaned thoroughly. Medical intervention may be needed if the area begins to show sign of infection.

[crowttore]

Notes: Reupload of an ask box drabble for the prompt "a kiss out of spite". Steal for anything and I'm spreading Anobium punctatum in your home. Tags: Alhaitham x reader, established relationship, 700 words Minors DNI

Alhaitham knew it had to be his fault that you were currently huffing and puffing in frustration. Why else would you so angrily be collecting scattered papers and books, snapping thomes shut with no care for placing a bookmark first. You had been prone to such harmless, if petty, ploys of 'revenge' since he'd first met you.

Admittedly, your shared space had begun resembling the aftermath of an exam season, something neither of you had needed to stress about for years. When he shifted slightly in the couch it didn't go unnoticed, and his stomach churned at the scowl on your face. He hated this just as much as you, but there was nothing to be done really.

"I said I'd tidy up once I was finished working," he attempted to pacify, making his voice as neutral as possible.

"Not everything can be pushed around based on your schedule," you snapped at him, voice shaking slightly.

So this was about more than just the clutter then. Gently closing the book in his hand, Alhaitham considered how to proceed, letting his eyes drift towards your face. For a moment, he wondered if spring had finally set in before realising with a bleeding heart that your eyes were red for an entirely different reason.

You were evidently upset, holding his stare with a passion that was rare. It clicked into place far sooner than he'd have liked, he'd been horrible, hadn't he?

"I-.. I haven't been fair to you these past few weeks. This was precisely what I've wanted to avoid, and I'm sorry for not noticing sooner," he stood up as he spoke, hating the way you stepped back, placing a broom between the two of you. Another barrier.

"I've barely spoken to you since you became the Acting Grand Sage, barely even seen you, and- and I thought today would be different. I got so excited that you stayed home 'haitham, I cleared my damned schedule to stay with you,"

He took a deep breath, knowing now would be a bad time to point out that he'd never made any indication that he would have any free time today. That wasn't a conversation either of you needed right now. Before he could reply, you already made a verbal lunge.

"There's no partnership in this, and I'm sick and tired of doing everything without so much as a single acknowledgement from you and-"

"Sit."

"What? No."

Alhaitham did what he could to stop his hands from trembling when he reached out and pried the broom from you, immediately regretting having let it clatter to the ground, the sound doing nothing to break the tension.

With a firm hand, Alhaitham guides you to sit before taking the spot beside you. No amount of noise cancelling would be enough to drown out the thundering beat of his heart. How had he allowed himself to become so blind to the weight upon your shoulders?

If the broadest shoulders must bear the heaviest load, how had he ever let himself so carelessly neglect assessing the tired look in your lovely eyes? But your fingers remained intertwined with his, you were disappointed but not enough to loathe him. That by itself was reason enough to not overthink but act.

"The day isn't over, my work can wait. We could go for a picnic, it shouldn't be too warm and we have leftovers to bring. I can go to the bazaar and get fruit while you get ready," his mind was running as fast as possible, voice struggling to keep up.

"I don't want it to be forced, and that's exactly what you're doing right now."

His eyes widened slightly, struck by lightning when you pulled your hand from his.

"Tomorrow then, the entire day?"

He saw how your eyes narrowed, which only made the surge of relief he felt that much greater as you yanked his earpiece to the side to press a kiss to the shell of his ear. You were still scowling, arms crossed in front of your chest as a petulant toddler.

But now Alhaitham had no doubt that it was strictly for show.

"Three more weeks and I'm back to lazing around as much as you want. And ah-," he cleared his throat sheepishly, "handling my own clutter in a more timely manner."

Genshin masterlist

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Bad Weather LADS Drabbles

Word count; 837

Warnings; fluff, reader is scared of bad weather

Notes; hey guys! I thought I'd just post something small and I've never tried my hand at drabbles before, so I hope they're actually decent enough. I'm also not sure how long they're supposed to be or if this is classified as a scenario instead? Either way, I felt bad for not writing anything new in my one-shots this week, so I hope a random little drabble will suffice!

Either way, I was just a bit inspired since I have a tad bit of bad weather coming my way (mostly just thunderstorms and high winds, a storm surge from the hurricane but it's not going to come anywhere close), and I was inspired to write since I don't particularly like bad weather. Big things in the sky scare me, to be honest.

Anyway, yall be safe out there if there's any bad weather near yall and I hope you have a good day/night!! 🩷

Sylus

“Hmm?” Sylus would wake up in the middle of the night with you in his arms, trembling from the sound of rain harshly hitting the windows. Wind whistling and whipping while your head was buried in his chest. 

“Kitten?” He would chuckle. “You're a mighty and proud Hunter, but this is what scares you?” 

A flash of light illuminates the room and your nails bite into the skin of his shoulder. 

Sylus would count out-loud how long it took for the lightning to follow behind the thunder. The low timber of his voice helps you calm down with your ear against his chest. 

His arms would tighten around you every time you jump from fear. 

“Calm down now, sweetie. Do you want me to have Mephisto fly out there and check the damage? Or should I have Luke and Kieran go out there and stop the storm?” 

A small caw is echoed through the room– a sign that Mephisto clearly did not want to go outside. 

You would laugh and shake your head. The thought of the twins trying to physically fight the storm, and Mephisto being blown around in the high winds, calms you down to where you can finally fall back asleep. 

Rafayel

“Hey…the studio isn't going to flood or anything right?” You would be worried, having heard on the news that Linkon would be hit with the storm surge coming off a hurricane. The hurricane wouldn't hit Linkon, however you were more worried about tsunamis– especially when you were at Rafayel's studio on Whitesand Bay. 

“It better not.” Rafayel would grumble as he tried to quickly put away any paintings he really cared about. “But if it does, you'll be safe by my side.” 

“That's…very reassuring..” you would say, not feeling very reassured because what could Rafayel do? He couldn't very well tell the raging waters to just stop…or could he?

As you excitedly turn around to ask Rafayel this, he puts his hand up in front of him. “I know what you're going to ask and my answer is no.” 

“Aw..” You would sigh before you'd nervously look out the window, keeping a close eye on the distant tide and the clouds in the sky. 

“Cutie..–” Rafayel tugs on your arm to pull you away from the window. “Seriously, don't look outside. You'll just stress yourself out, Miss Hunter.” 

He mischievously smiles, “Come on, let's go paint something together to pass the time or…I could distract you.”

Xavier 

“Xavier, does that cloud look weird to you or is it just me?” You would squint up at the sky, staring at the large bundle of clouds. “Mm…it's called a wall cloud.” Xavier would say from your couch, fingers tapping against his phone. 

“It usually means thunderstorms are on the way, and it can cause tornadoes.” The silvery-blonde haired man would shrug as if this wasn't a big deal, but it was. A big deal, that is. 

“Xavier, this is seriou–” 

A sharp noise would slip from your lips when a loud boom shakes the whole apartment and the lights go out shortly after. 

“Xav..” You would dart back inside from your place on the balcony and quickly shut the doors, trying to search for him in the dark. 

“Right here, starlight.” 

You would notice a tiny speck of light before a dozen others lit up the room. It almost felt romantic, if it wasn't for the rain pelting the windows and the distant sound of thunder. 

“Come here, we can hide out from the storm together in our own little world.” 

Zayne

“We gonna die–” you would blurt out the moment you began to hear sirens. Bundled up in a blanket on Zayne's living room floor, eyes locked in on the weather report coming from the TV. 

“I– Snow angel…” Zayne can't help but laugh as he returns to the living room with two mugs in hand. “Be careful, it's hot.” He would say as he sets your mug on the table in front of you. 

“Are you not worried at all!?” Your gaze would turn to him in a panic and Zayne would sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“If we die, I'll die with the person I love. That doesn't sound too bad, all things considered.” He admits. 

“You…What–” 

“I think we'll be just fine, angel. You fight wanderers daily, so I didn't expect you'd be this scared of bad weather.” Zayne leans forward and rests one arm over his propped up knee. 

“You know, even though I've known you since we were children, I'm still constantly learning new things about you…” A smile tugs at his lips as he reminisces on the past for a moment. “I hope we survive this ordeal so I can continue to learn more about you in the future.” 

“Zayne, you're not helping!” You would hit his shoulder and try to cover up your reddening face. But you do appreciate the way he was trying to get your mind off of the weather outside. 

[gor3-hound]

silver lining

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hybrid!reader, very brief suicide mention, p in v, creampie, daddy kink, a LOT of pet names

a/n: hiii! throwing out some (kinda) fluffy smut for once lmao. mainly picturing vendetta leon, but any older leon works tbh. i'm so tired, so if you see typos, no, you don't >:[ hope you enjoy !!

word count: 1.7k words

Raccoon City was something that Leon would never forget. It's been years since the incident, and he still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights with nightmares of the things he'd seen.

It's fucked him up in more ways than one. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he was sure that Sherry would be safe. The “top secret programme” the government so lovingly initiated him into isn't the way he saw his life going - but if it kept her safe, he'd grit his teeth and bare it.

Sure, he's made his peace with it, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. He runs around like the government's personal lap dog and then comes home and drinks himself half to death. It's a routine he's gotten used to, and he doesn't plan on changing it anytime soon.

But it gets lonely. He's not a stranger to flirting with a pretty girl in the bar, but he never manages to get them to stay. He's not sure he's capable of forming a relationship anymore. Work always comes up, and no woman seems to want to stick around when he disappears for weeks or months at a time.

When he was younger, he always wanted a dog. That was another thing Raccoon City took from him. He still flinches when a dog moves too fast near him or gets too close. He's never been a cat person, either. Thinks they're grumpy bastards at the best of times.

He leaves it at that for a while. Looks like he's destined to be alone. Whatever. He's used to it by now. Or he thinks so, at least, until he starts to hear about hybrids becoming more commercially available as pets.

They've been around for a while, sure, but they were the type of exotic pet rich assholes buy to show off. He hears about the new hybrid adoption center opening in his city and spends one of his only weekends off doing a shit ton of research. He's not entirely convinced, but he figures there's no harm in taking a look. As soon as he spots you, he knows he's smitten. Bat your pretty lashes at him, and he'd do anything you asked.

You're the cutest little puppy girl he's ever seen. Fluffy ears atop your head, your tail wagging so fast behind you it's practically a blur. He doesn't even think about it when he calls a worker over, paying for you then and there. He doesn't even blink at the amount of money you cost him. He'd sell a kidney to be able to afford you if he needed it. At least the government pays well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been a few months since he brought you home with him. You were a pain in the ass at first, constantly bouncing around his apartment. Your tail was a hazard, always knocking things off his table and breaking things.

He wouldn't change it for the world, though. You've become the highlight of his day. He finds himself smiling as he opens the door to his apartment, hearing you thunder towards the front door as he walks in. He can't help but chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to lick at his face.

“Alright. Easy, girl. Easy.” He says with a smile, pushing you off him and ruffling your hair as he steps past you. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and settling on the couch. “I had a long day, y'know? Could at least let me through the door before you jump all over me.”

“But I missed you.” You whine as he pushes you away from him, following him closely as he moves to sit on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, pup.” Leon says with a grin, patting his lap. He waits for you to jump in his lap, leaning back comfortably. “C'mere, then. Don't you wanna come sit with daddy?”

Your tail wags lazily behind you as you shift closer, straddling his lap happily. His hands settle on your waist to tug you closer, and he rubs small circles into you with his thumb.

“Missed you.” You repeat softly, cuddling close to him.

“You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzles his nose into your head and caresses your hair. “A good girl…” 

Leon hums quietly and his hand starts to wander along your side and up towards your chest. “And beautiful, too. Can't believe I got so lucky, baby.”

You giggle softly at that, tail wagging just a little bit faster as you press your chest into his hand, shivering as his thumb brushes your sensitive nipple over your shirt.

“D'you wanna play with me, daddy?” You ask softly, trying to press as close to him as possible. Your hips start moving on their own, rutting your aching pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He always smells so good when he gets back from work, sweat clinging to his skin. 

“I just got back, baby. What's got you so worked up, huh?” He teases softly, grabbing your hips and adjusting them so you're grinding down onto his steadily hardening cock over his pants instead. He groans softly, reaching around to pet the base of your sensitive tail.

That gets a twitch and a whine from you, making the corner of his mouth tug up into a lazy smile. He rocks his hips up into you until he's fully hard and leaking.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, puppy. Let's get you to bed.” He grunts, trying to act like he isn't as desperate as you. His voice is low and gravelly, brows furrowed in concentration as he lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling off his jacket. His hands roam your body, tugging off your clothes as he runs his palms along your curves. His eyes take you I'm greedily, his hands working to undress himself instantly.

“Fuck.” He groans as you shift on your hands and knees, ass up in the air as soon as you see his cock. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking and staining his stomach. “Always so eager…”

All he gets is a whine and an ass wiggle in response. You lift your tail straight up, presenting your glistening pussy for his hungry eyes. “Daddy, please…”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He murmurs, settling between your legs. He runs the pads of two fingers between your glistening folds, dragging them from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick dripping from you before pushing them inside.

He thrusts them in and out a few times, letting you get used to the intrusion. Not that you need it - your pussy is always so drippy, sucking him in greedily every chance it gets. He curls his fingers, earning a low moan from you, your cute ears pressing firmly against your head.

“That's it.” He coos, repeating the action every time his fingers are half buried inside of you. “There's my good girl. You want my cock, don't you, sweet thing?”

All you can manage is to babble please repeatedly, already so desperate for him. He's not sure how he ever managed without you. You always make him feel so wanted, and not just when he's buried balls deep inside of you. It's nice. Makes an unfamiliar warmth build in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he was still a bright-eyed kid in the police academy.

“Don't worry, baby, I got what you need.” He says softly, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your juices onto the sheets before grabbing your hips. His breath hitches as he slides his length into your tight heat, his head tilting back in pleasure before he lets out a low moan.

He leans over you, pressing some of his weight against you as he starts to thrust slow and deep. He presses his lips to the back of your neck before leaning back, his thrusts picking up in pace.

“Such a pretty puppy.” He groans, gripping your tail to pull you back against him every time he fucks into you. The room is filled with your needy moans and the sounds of your sloppy pussy.

“Daddy…” you whine, drool spilling past your lips and onto the pillow your face is smashed against. He can feel you tightening around him, so he knows you're close. He adjusts his angle slightly so he rubs up against that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“C'mon, cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, hand tightening on your tail as the other slides up from your hip to your waist, giving him more leverage ti rock you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, daddy… cummin’!” You moan, your walls clenching so tight around him you almost push him out. He presses his hips against your ass and thrusts shallowly, keeping him buried deep inside of you as his tip grinds against your cervix.

His mouth hangs open as he feels you gushing all over him, his breath caught in his throat as his cock jumps and kicks against your cervix, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him making him shoot ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

You whine softly again, slumping against the crumpled sheets. His breathing is slightly heavy as he drops his weight on you, pressing you against the bed.

You grunt at the feeling of him dropping on top of you, wriggling yourself free with a soft huff. You cuddle up to him after, ignoring the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. You give him a few locks to his stubble cheeks before cuddling up to him with a smile.

“Sleepy.” You huff softly, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. He lazily wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to him and petting your back.

“I bet. C'mon, baby. Think we deserve a nap.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead before letting his eyes shut, too.

[cumironi]

WHAT ARE WE? : SUGURU GETO

cw. college! suguru. misunderstanding. cheating. break-down.

you and suguru are having an argument about your relationship after a one-year affair with you.

suguru holds onto your waist loosely as you lay in front of him on your side, face to face. his hand continues to trace soft circles on your arm, a soothing motion that seems to calm both of you. for a few moments, neither of you say anything, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. but after a while, suguru speaks up again, his voice soft and gentle.

“y/n... can i ask you something?”

“hmm?”

suguru takes a deep breath, his expression growing serious as he gathers his thoughts. he tilts your chin up, so that you're looking directly into his eyes. he hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. then, he speaks, his voice almost a whisper.

“what are we doing, y/n?” he says quietly, his voice is serious. he watches your expression growing with no confusion, just staring at him with an expression he doesn't seem able to put his finger on. “when you try to tempt me like this... is it just because you can? because you know i can’t resist you, no matter how hard i try?”

he says quietly, his voice filled with a tinge of emotion. “you know how weak i am when you’re this close to me… when you look at me like that. it’s like you have a power over me, and you know it,” his eyes look for yours, searching for something he doesn't know either. you're looking at him, right?

his warm hand squeezes your arm a little, “it’s like you enjoy toying with me, like you take pleasure in seeing how weak i become around you.” suguru gazes at you intently, waiting for your answer. his hand continues to rest on your waist, holding you close, and he studies your face for any hint of emotion. the seriousness in his eyes contrasts with the soft touch of his fingers on your skin, and the quiet intensity of the moment hangs in the air.

suguru's words hang in the air, the weight of his question lingering between you two. he continues to hold your gaze, his eyes searching your face for an answer.

he's waiting for your response, for some sort of explanation. but you can feel the tension in his body, the coiled-up restraint that he's holding onto. he's conflicted, torn between his desire and his loyalty. after a long moment of silence, he speaks again, his voice strained. “say something.”

the silence is deafening, and suguru's question seems to echo in your ears. you can see the tension in his body, and you know that he's waiting for you to say something— anything. he's looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter, and you can feel the weight of his question hanging in the air.

you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to answer. the air feels thick with anticipation, and you can almost hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. but finally, you speak.

“i...”

but your mouth closes again as soon as it opens. the lump in your throat tightens, your chest hurts from the thunder inside you. suguru's grip on your waist tightens slightly, his frustration and impatience growing as he waits for your reply. he can feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as the silence between you stretches on.

his eyes remain fixed on your face, studying every change in your expression as he waits for you to speak. his hand still rests on your waist, but it's no longer gentle. instead, it's as if he's holding onto you, as if he's afraid that you might slip away if he lets go.

his voice comes out as a low, frustrated growl. “damned it, y/n, say something,” he repeat, more desperate.

your hand is gripping tightly on the bedcover under your palm, “I..” you are trying to see right through his mind, losing on his purple orbs, “I.. isn't this what you want?—” you stop for a second, gulping before you continue, “Is it wrong if I said I want to be with you?”

you grimace in silence, feeling the ache in your chest as the words roll out of your tongue and land on his mind. the guilt eating you alive as your mind wanders to shoko ieiri. the imaginary slow motion of her knowing what happened between you and the man in front of you, her boyfriend already torn you apart.

suguru's expression softens slightly at your words, the more when he see the conflict in your face, the guilt in your voice, the hesitation in your eyes. knowing that you're struggling with the same internal battle that he is.

he let out a sigh, “come here.”

he adjusts his position to lying on his back before pulling your waist closer until your bare skin touches his. his muscular arm wrapped around your waist possessively as you rest your cheek on his bare chest.

you take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. he looks down at your hands, the sight of them intertwined sending a pang of emotion through him.

he's silent for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and doubts. but then, he looks back up at you, his eyes meeting yours. there's a glimmer of hope in his gaze, but also some lingering guilt.

“you know it's not that simple,” he mutters, his voice low. “i have a girlfriend.”

your heart sinks at his words, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you once again. “i know.” repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know that.”

“i know...” you muttered, more to yourself.

silence fills the room again. your head is resting on his chest, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing is soothing. each inhale and exhale a quiet reminder of his presence, his body heat radiating against yours.

the guilt gnaws at you, a knot in your lower stomach. the situation is complicated, and there are so many factors at play. but in this moment, lying in his arms, it's hard to deny the powerful connection you feel between you.

you shift on his chest, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. your eyes linger on his handsome features, studying the planes and grooves of his face in the dim light. “but...” you start, pausing as you struggle to find the words. “but I know you don't love her.”

at your statement, suguru's expression changes, a flicker of emotions cross through his eyes — conflict, guilt, and resignation. he turns his head away from your gaze, avoiding your eyes as he continues staring at the ceiling.

his grip on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his jaw. he wants to deny it. he doesn't try to justify anything, he tries but the way your face shines under the dim light of your shared room he already knows that he's trapped, that he's torn between love, loyalty, and his own desires.

there's a long pause before he finally speaks, “no,” he finally admitted, his voice low and quiet, “i don't love her.” he looks for your eyes, his own searching for any hint of judgment. “but i can't... just leave her.” It's a quiet, strained admission.

you smile a little, “i know,” you sigh softly before back to lying your head on his chest, watch your hand intertwined with his, playing with his fingers.

“i know that, that's why we better not talk about it,” you try to swallow the harsh truth, “let's just keep whatever it is inside our room and pretend like we hate each other, like we used to,” your voice wavering, come out more like a whisper.

suguru's expression softens as he watches you play with his fingers, a silent understanding passing between you. but there's also sadness in his eyes, a deep-seated pain that he can't seem to hide.

he nods, sighing again. “yeah... you're right. it's for the best if we keep this under wraps,” the resignation on his voice echoes. suguru is quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. but you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex involuntarily under your fingertips. he's conflicted, caught between his feelings for you and his loyalty to his girlfriend.

his gaze fixated on your hands. then, he speaks up again, his voice barely above a whisper. “but it doesn't make things any easier,” the words finally got to you.

he lets out a low sigh, his breath hot against your skin. “it's not... that simple,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “i don't think we can just... ignore what's happening between us.” you know what he's saying is true. it's impossible to ignore the growing connection between you two, no matter how hard you try to distance yourselves from each other.

suguru takes a deep breath, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. his voice is strained, “what are we supposed to do?” he looks down at you, his eyes searching your face. “we can't just... keep going like this, ignoring what's between us.”

he's frustrated, torn between his love for you and his loyalty to his girlfriend. the conflict is written all over his face, in the tightness of his expression, the creases on his brow. the silence between you is deafening, both of you struggling to find answers to the impossible situation you're in.

you raise your head again, looking at him. your expression is a mix of pain and determination.

“then... what are we supposed to do?” you ask, your voice barely hiding the hint of pleading. “how are we supposed to go on, knowing that we... that we—“ your voice hitches. “what do you want me to do, suguru?”

suguru doesn't respond immediately, his expression hardening as if he's deep in thought. but his grip on your hand tightens, almost unconsciously like he needs that connection to stay grounded. he hesitates for a long moment, wrestling with his thoughts before finally speaking up, his voice is rough. “i... i don't know,” he mutters, his voice heavy with uncertainty. “i just... i don't know.”

suguru's expression becomes conflicted, his brow furrowing as he tries to answer your question. he looks down at your hands, his thumb tracing slowly circles on the back of your hand. he's silent for a few moments, his thoughts racing as he tries to sort through his feelings.

then, he speaks up again, his voice heavy with emotion. “i want you. i want you more than anything. but i can't have you, not without hurting shoko.” you groan, rolling your eyes as you try to brush away the feelings that annoyed you so much you wanna throw up.

harshly you wipe your tears away, “oh, I bet she's gonna be in euphoria when she finds out that you're screwing with me behind her back,” your words come out sarcastic as you look at the wall beside his bed.

suguru's expression darkens at your sarcastic remark, his jaw clenching in frustration. he knows that you're hurting, that you're coping with the situation in the only way you know how.

but the words still stung, and he can't help but snap back at you. “you think i haven't thought about that?” he mutters, his voice sharp. “you think i haven't thought about how she'll react if she finds out about us?”

again, you rolled your eyes, “i don't know, suguru, haven't you thought about it now? oh wait, how about the first time you fuck me a year ago?” you snap back. your eyebrows narrow in anger.

suguru's expression darkens further at your words, his muscles tensing under your touch as your scathing tone hits him hard. he closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenching as he takes a deep breath to control his own anger.

he's been trying to avoid thinking about that first night, to push it out of his mind, to pretend like it never happened. but your words force him to confront it head-on, to acknowledge the guilt and the shame he's been trying to bury.

suguru's expression hardens as you snap at him, and you can see the mixture of guilt, anger, and resignation on his face. he doesn't respond for a long moment, his grip on your hand tightening even more. finally, he lets out a low growl, his voice strained. “don't you think i've thought about it every day since then?”

he sits up, leaning against the headboard as he glares at you. the frustration and tension between you is palpable, the air heavy with unresolved emotions. he looks at you, his violet eyes intense as they lock with yours. “i haven't been able to think about anything except you, y/n. you've consumed my mind.”

you sit up as well with your body facing him, your frustration and anger still boiling under the surface. you meet his gaze with equal intensity, refusing to back down.

”bullshit.” you snap back, your voice quivering with anger. “if you've been thinking about me the way you say you have, then why are we in this situation in the first place?” suguru's expression became dull, bitter as his jaw clenched the more he listens to you. he knows that you have a point, but he's too frustrated to admit it.

“are you thinking about me only when no one is around for you to stick your dick at?” you glare at him as tears stream down your face. “that you only come to me when it is convenient for you?” he watches you wipe your tears, and your sarcasm cuts through the air, adding another layer of tension to the already complex situation.

he grits his teeth before finally responding, his voice laced with frustration. “don't... don't say it like that,” he grunts. “it's not just some casual thing, y/n, I'm head over heels for you here.”

you're seething, the tears streaming down your face as the full force of emotions come crashing down on you. all the pent-up frustration, pain, and confusion that you've been pushing down come pouring out.

“then what the hell is it, suguru?” you snap, your voice strained. “you keep saying you can't make a choice, that you want me but you can't have me, that you're stuck between us. so what is this, then? what are we doing?” for a second your face mixes with anger and confusion.

you laugh, a sarcastic one, “oh god, I can't wait for shoko to find out that her boyfriend has been having an affair with me for a year.” suguru is strained at your words, the harshness in your tone cutting through him like a knife. his frown deepens as he looks at you, his eyes darkened by the guilt and frustration he feels, and a hint of anger.

he lets out a scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “yeah, I'm sure she'd be thrilled. and let's not forget how much you'd enjoy seeing her humiliated,” his own words filled with sarcasm.

you both fall silent again, the anger and hurt hanging in the air between you. the tension is palpable, and the more you speak, the deeper the wounds you inflict on each other. but despite the harshness of your words, there's a sadness in both of your eyes, a pain that neither of you can hide. you both know that this situation is complicated and that neither of you can ignore how you really feel about each other.

but suguru's words hit a nerve and you can feel the anger flare up inside you even more. you clench your fists, trying to control yourself, but the mixture of anger, frustration, and hurt is overwhelming. “is that what you think of me?” you snap back, your voice sharp. “that i'd enjoy seeing her humiliated? you think i'd relish the chance to hurt her like that?”

you pause for a moment, your eyes narrowing. “oh, fuck you, geto! i thought you knew me better than that.” you look at him with pure disgust.

suguru's expression falters momentarily, surprise and pain flickering across his features as you snap at him. he's caught off guard by your reaction, the use of his last name stinging like a slap to the face.

he knows he crossed a line, that he said something that hit too close to home. but he's too frustrated and guilty to fully apologize. instead, suguru's jaw clenches at your response, anger and frustration bubbling up within him. he can't help the anger that comes with feeling attacked.

“don't act like you're not enjoying this,” he snaps back, his voice strained. “you've been practically itching for the chance to push her out of the picture and have me all to yourself.” he glares at you, his expression hardening as he continues. “don't pretend like you're any better than me in this situation, y/n.”

he sits up straighter, his hands balling into fists as he glares back at you. “oh, i know you, y/n,” he retorts with venom, his voice harsh. “and i know that deep down, there's a part of you that would love to see her suffer.” you are stunned for a moment, eyes wide open as you look at his angry feature. there's something beneath your flesh that is trying to scrunch your beating heart, wanting to explode from the pain.

you seethe as you listen to his words, the anger rising within you like a fiery inferno. how dare he judge you like that, how dare he accuse you of enjoying the pain of others.

“how dare you?” your voice comes out as a whisper. “you're the one who's started all of this, geto. do you think how many times I have run away from you? you're fucking everywhere—” you choke on your own sob. “i didn't say i'd enjoy seeing her humiliated, but you seem more than happy to throw the blame in my face,” you snap.

suguru's expression obfuscate further as he continues to glare at you, his patience running thin. he's struggling to keep his own emotions in check, but the anger and frustration are threatening to boil over.

“oh, don't act like you're innocent in all of this,” he snaps back, his voice laced with bitterness. “you were just as willing as i was. you could have walked away anytime, but you didn't.” he clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “and stop playing the victim here. you know damn well that you're just as guilty as i am.”

you stare at suguru for a moment. looking at his hardened steel face bathing with anger and frustration while tears make a rain onto your cheeks. you can feel your eyelashes battling, wet, as you look at the man in front of you. “I hate you,” you whisper, the only words that can come out of your trambling lips.

the words come out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself, and they hang in the air like a weight, heavy and final. suguru's expression hardens at your words, his own anger and resentment surging to the surface. he stares at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

but beneath the anger, there's a hint of pain in his violet eyes, a trace of the hurt that your words have inflicted. he's silent for a long moment, the silence only broken by his ragged breaths. the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. but despite his own guilt and shame, he can't help but push back.

“no, you don't.” he grits his teeth, his voice strained. “if you hated me, you wouldn't be here. you wouldn't keep coming back to me every time,” he scoffed. you bite your tongue in frustration, knowing that he's right. you hate that he can read you so easily, that he knows the truth about your feelings.

but you're too stubborn to admit it, too proud to acknowledge how you really feel. so you stay silent, staring back at him with a mix of anger and heartache. you let out a bitter scoff at his words, your own anger and frustration growing with each passing moment.

“oh, of course,” you growl, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “i must secretly love this whole shitty situation, huh?” you meet his glare, your own eyes narrowing. “you want to know the truth? i don't hate you. but i do hate the fact that i can't seem to stay away from you, but..” you clear your throat, “let's just end all of this,” your voice dripping with resignation.

suguru's expression falters for a brief moment as he hears your words, a flicker of vulnerability seeping through his frustrated exterior. he knows that what you're saying is true, knows that you're struggling just as much as he is.

but he can't let himself show weakness, can't let his own feelings overcome his resolve. so he responds with a scoff of his own, his voice tight with frustration. “yeah, right. i'm sure you'll be just fine, running back to the arms of whatever poor schmuck can give you an ounce of attention.”

your eyes widen, a mix of confusion and shock flooding your features. your brows knit together as the words sink in, and the hurt becomes evident in your gaze. your lips part slightly as if you want to respond but can't find the right words, your expression a silent plea for understanding amidst the pain his words have caused.

so you just look down at your hands while gripping tightly on the blanket. feel ashamed for the way you're acting and letting yourself into this situation.

suguru's words hit you hard, sending a jolt of pain straight to your heart, making your sobs more pronounced. his harsh tone and piercing gaze made you feel like the worst person. you struggled to hold back your tears, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to control your emotions while also trying to catch your breath.

suguru's expression softens at the sight of your sobbing form, guilt and regret washing over him. he feels a pang of shame for the harsh words he had just spoken, the way he had let his own frustration and anger get the best of him. “i.. I can't do this, anymore,” you whisper between your sobbing as you refuse to look at him. his heart twists as he hears your whispered words, the resignation and pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife.

he watches you for a moment, the weight of your words and the pain in your voice heavy on his heart. he's torn between his own anger and his love for you, caught in the crossfire of his own emotions. he lets out a soft sigh, reaching out to slip your hair behind your ear before touching your chin gently.

“hey...” softly.

you feel his fingers brushing against your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as he touches your chin. the gesture is both comforting and painful, reminding you of the complexity of your relationship.

your eyes flutter closed at the feel of his fingers against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath. “don't.. don't touch me,” you mutter between sobs, your voice strained with emotion.

suguru's hand falters as your words reach him, his own heart clenching at the pain in your voice. he knows that he should listen to you, knows that you're struggling to maintain your composure. yet he can't resist the urge to comfort you. He longs to hold you and offers reassurance, so he disregards your words, his hand still gently cradling your chin.

he gently lifts your face, tilting it up so that your eyes meet his. the hardness and intensity usually present in his gaze have softened, now bim with an aching tenderness. he takes a shaky breath, his concern evident in the way his voice trembles slightly. the depth of his care for you is clear, cutting through the tension between you both.

“hey, look at me,” he gently murmurs, his touch feather-soft against your skin. “don't cry. please don't cry.” he pulls you closer by the waist until he can feel your skin on his. his arm holds you tight, “i'm sorry baby, please don't cry,” he whisper in your hair.

you resist his touch initially, your body taut and tense. but as he pulls you closer, your resistance melts away. you let yourself sink into his embrace, the tears streaming down your face as you bury your head into his chest.

you wrap your arms around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline. the pain and anger between you seem to melt away as you listen to the sound of his heartbeat, the steady thump-thump a reminder of the bond that still tethers you together.

“i hate you,” you whisper once more, your voice muffled against his chest. suguru lets out a soft sigh, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace despite the harshness of your voice. he can feel the heat of your tears on his chest, the way your body trembles against his as you sob.

he knows he’s the reason for your pain, that he’s the one who has hurt you so deeply. despite this, he can't bring himself to let you go or push you away. Instead, he tightens his embrace, holding you closer, his chin resting gently on the top of your head. he takes a deep breath, his heart aching with regret and love. “I know,” he murmurs softly, his voice husky with emotion. “I know you do, baby. I'm so sorry.” his words are a quiet plea for forgiveness, filled with the weight of his own sorrow.

for a long moment, the two of you sit there in silence, the only sound the occasional stifled sobs that escape your lips the gentle rise and fall of suguru's chest as he holds you. suguru holds you close, his arms wrapped around you like a protective cocoon.

he rubs his hand up and down your back in a slow, soothing motion, trying to offer at least some small comfort to your pain. he can feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles remain clenched with frustration and hurt. his touch is gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there for you, despite the turmoil between you. his heartbeat echoes in the silence, a steady rhythm against your side as he holds you close, silently hoping his presence can ease some of the anguish he causes.

you cling tightly to suguru, seeking comfort within the safety of his embrace. with your face buried against his chest, you find solace in the steady, reassuring beat of his heart amid the storm of emotions swirling within you. gradually, you lift your head from his chest and look up at him. your eyes are red and puffy from tears, but a sense of resignation now mingles with the lingering pain. his presence has brought a moment of calm, a fragile peace in the aftermath of your emotional outburst.

suguru looks down at you, his own expression mixed with guilt and vulnerability. his eyes studying your tear-streaked face. he reaches out, gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, his touch gentle and soothing.

he's silent for a moment, his expression conflicted. he knows what he should do, knows that this whole situation is a mess that he shouldn't be dragging you into. but as he looks at you, he can't help but feel drawn to you. your vulnerability, your pain, and your undeniable strength pull him in like a moth to a flame.

his mind warring with his emotions. finally, he lets out a soft sigh. “i don't want to hurt you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. he pauses, his eyes searching yours, “but I feel like I'm losing you with every single word we speak.”

you stare back at him, your heart aching at the rawness of his words. you know that he's struggling as much as you are, that he's torn between his love for you and his loyalty to shoko.

you reach up, your fingers gently tracing the side of his face. “i don't want to hurt you either,” you respond, your voice laced with pain. “but i can’t keep pretending that this isn't killing me inside.” your gaze drops, your voice becoming quieter. “i don't know how much more of this i can take.”

suguru lets out another soft sigh, the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. he knows that he's the cause of it, that his own selfishness has led to this point and he hates himself for it.

he gently cups your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking at him again. his eyes are filled with pain and vulnerability as he speaks. “i don't want to lose you,” he mutters softly. “i don't want to hurt you. but i also can't pretend like i don't have feelings for you.” you took his hand, held them, “let's not talk about it, hm? at least for tonight?” you give him a little smile, a force one.

suguru looks at you for a moment, his expression conflicted. he knows that you're trying to put on a brave face, to push the pain away for just a little while longer.

but beneath the smile, he can see the pain in your eyes, the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the day. he hesitates for a moment, but eventually nods. “alright,” he mutters softly. “for tonight, we won't talk about it.”

the tension in the room eases slightly as you both agree to put the discussion aside for the night. suguru's grip on your hand relaxes a bit as he looks into your eyes, silently studying your face before he took his boxer and his black oversized t-shirt shirt from the floor. wearing the boxer and give the t-shirts for you to wear, cover your naked body. you let suguru help you change into his clothes, the soft fabric of the t-shirt gently enveloping your body.

“you're tired,” he remarks quietly. “come on, let's move to your bed,” his voice softly drowns you. he carried you from his bed to yours, knowing how much you hate sleeping on the bed that is covered with cum and sweat. you silently appreciate his thoughtfulness, knowing that he understands your discomfort about sleeping on the other bed.

as he lifts you gently, you wrap your arms around his neck, your body relaxing into his embrace. he carries you like a fragile doll, walking from his bed to yours with careful steps. “lay down. let me hold you for a while,” he says few words as he lowers you onto the bed, his touch tender and gentle. you let out a small sigh of relief as you're moved to your own bed, the clean sheets a welcome comfort after the intensity of the emotional upheaval.

as suguru positions you to lie down, his words are like a balm to your weary soul. you scoot over, making space for him beside you and he climbs into bed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. your head rests against his chest, the steady thumping of his heart a soothing rhythm that begins to lull you into a state of relaxed exhaustion.

as you curl into his embrace, the tiredness of the day starts to set in, your body yearning for rest. suguru's arm is around you, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back, an intimate and soothing gesture.

he gazes down at you with a mixture of concern and tenderness in his eyes. “are you comfortable, baby?” he asks softly, his voice low and soothing. you nod slowly against his chest, finding a small measure of comfort in his embrace. “I'm okay,” you assure him, but then add with a faint mumble, “I can't feel my leg, though...” the lingering sensation of your legs trembling slightly from the rough intimacy you shared earlier hasn't completely subsided.

suguru's mouth curls downwards in a frown as he hears your mumbled confession. he knows that he was a little too rough with you earlier, that your body must be feeling the aftermath of his passion.

he carefully readjusts his position so that you're closer against him, cradling you softly. “sorry,” he mutters softly, his voice laced with no guilt. “i got carried away. i didn’t mean to hurt you.” you hummed, “I know you didn't feel sorry,” your voice comes out light, dripping with a bit of teasing.

suguru chuckles lightly at your comment, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. he knows you're right, that there's a part of him that's unapologetic about his rough handling of you.

he can’t deny the primal satisfaction it brings him, the primal desire to claim you as his own. but he also knows that he crossed a line, that he's responsible for causing you pain. “you're a smartass,” he mutters affectionately, his fingers continuing to trace slow, lazy patterns on your skin.

“I know.”

he lets out another soft chuckle, the sound low and deep in his chest. your sassiness always brings out a playful side in him, a part of him that he rarely lets surface. he adjusts his position again, pulling you even closer so that your body is flush against his. his fingers gently brush against the skin of your back, tracing feather-light patterns.

“i know i should feel guilty about this,” he mutters, “but i don't. not really.” he leaned down to give your lips a small kiss, “and you also have a smart ass,” he mutters while smiling on your lips, his fingers giving your rear a light smack.

you let out a small gasp as his hand connects with your rear, the unexpected gesture eliciting a mixture of surprise and pleasure. he chuckles lowly, amused by your response. “and a pretty one at that,” he responds, his hand gently caressing the spot he just smacked. “I never realized how much I missed your smart mouth.”

you chuckle lightly as your head moves forward, place your chin on top of the back of your handset rest against suguru's chest, “this smart mouth just brought you a disaster before.” he hums in agreement, his hand continuing to gently caress your rear. “it did. but it also never fails to amuse me.” he pulls you closer against his body, his arm wrapping around you possessively. “i hate how much i love that sassy mouth of yours. and how much i love shutting it up.”

he lets out another chuckle at his own witty retort, his hand still gently tracing your skin. “your smart mouth brings me a lot of things,” he quips back, his grin widening. “trouble, sure. but also pleasure, passion, and a whole host of other things that I can’t even begin to describe…”

your mouth curves into a small smile as you hear his words. it's true, your smart mouth has gotten you into trouble more times than you can count. but it's also been the catalyst for some of the most intense and passionate moments you've ever experienced. “you always know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you murmur.

he grins lazily, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “you know I do. especially when it comes to you.” his hand moves from your rear to your hair, his fingers gently running through the locks, caressing your scalp. “you know,” he says, his voice low and husky, “there are plenty more ways i can shut up that smart mouth of yours.”

you try to suck your smile under suguru's violet gaze. “yeah? tell me about it?” he chuckles at your attempt to suppress your smile, his hand moving from your hair to the side of your face, his thumb gently tracing your lips. “you want me to give you a demonstration?” he asks, his voice dripping with suggestion, his eyes fixed on your lips.

“shut up,” suddenly a wave of shyness washing over you. you roll down from his chest to lying on your back. he watches as you roll onto your back, your sudden shyness bringing a smirk to his lips. “aw, why'd you move?” he teases, rolling over to lie on his side beside you. he reaches out, his hand gently caressing your hip, his voice deep and suggestive.

”i was enjoying having you close.”

his voice nearly whispered. he was just admiring your face for a while before he leans in, “i love you,” he whispered. his voice is low, almost a whisper, but the words are powerful, his violet eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“i love you,” he repeats, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek. he leans in even closer, his body pressing against yours as he hovers over you, his lips just a breath away from yours.

“you have no idea how much...”

your heart flutters at his words, a mix of emotion and disbelief flooding through you. you've heard him say those words so many times before, but every time feels like the first.

you turn onto your side to face him, his proximity making your heart race. you open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. instead, you reach out and touch his face, your fingers tracing his jawline.

and even without words, he knows what you're trying to say. “i love you too.”

[thecheshireprincess]

Princess of Diamonds

Part I of V

In which you find yourself in Borderland, somehow running into the one person you'd thought was lost to you forever.

A Dad!Kuzuryu x Daughter!Reader five part mini-series

Content Warning: Mentions of death and suicide, curse words, not too much craziness going on in this part ✨️

A/N: I haven't decided if Reader will have one specific love interest, have two 👀 specific love interests, or if she will just remain a flirty queen 👑 So just know that this isn't necessarily a Niragi x Reader pairing, he just gets the first flirt for now 🤣🤭 I hope you guys love this! ❤️

Princess of Diamonds Masterlist

Even your eyelashes feel heavy and achy as you blink rapidly, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to regain consciousness. The space in front of you was completely dark - you had opened your eyes, hadn't you? - and your head throbbed aggressively.

You bite back a moan of agony, the rest of your body finally responding to your awakened state, nerve endings lighting up all over like fireworks. Stiff, sore, fuck. What happened? You can tell you're sitting upright in an uncomfortable chair with something covering your head. A bag?

Arisu. Usagi. Last you could recall, the three of you had been searching all over Tokyo for a place called The Beach; you must have been caught. Secretive fuckers. You just hoped your friends were still with you and unharmed.

You aren't left to your thoughts for long as the shade is yanked abruptly from your head, allowing bright white light to infiltrate your vision. You squeeze your watering eyes shut tightly in response, the sudden intrusion of the sun's rays doing no favors to your pounding headache. Your hand instictively comes up to massage a tender bump on your head, likely where your kidnappers had hit you to knock you out. You should sue for damages.

"Good morning!" a woman's cheerful voice chirps from a couple of feet in front of you. It probably would be a good morning, if you hadn't been assaulted for simply looking for answers in a world that seemed to have none.

And then a voice fills your ears, the low tone immediately soothing your frayed nerves like a balm. A voice that you'd been certain you'd never have the privilege of hearing again, "I'm sorry that we were so rough. We heard that there were some people sneaking around the place." You finally lift your head up as he finishes his apology, eyes meeting his framed behind distinctive wire glasses. You notice his breath catches in his throat, eyes widening, as your reality seems to shift beneath you. How could this possibly be?

Your father was presumed to be dead, missing for more than six months in the old world. His disappearance the catalyst for the fiery collapse of the life you'd known for 24 years. But now? Here he was standing in front of you dressed in a short-sleeved collared shirt and board shorts. At a place dubbed The Beach. A place whose citizens had assaulted you and your friends, leaving you unconscious and bewildered. The sight of him filled you with rage, only adding to the pressure currently threatening to crack your skull in half. Your pulse pounded obscenely in your ears, making it nearly impossible to hear anything over the thunderous beat. You lowered your gaze to the dirty tan carpet at your feet, you'd be sick if you had to keep looking at the man.

You're instantly grateful that Arisu and Usagi are, in fact, on either side of you and can function well enough to converse with the wild haired man that has come parading ceremoniously into the room. You make a half-hearted attempt to listen to the man, spewing all sorts of propaganda about what the cards mean, what collecting them will do, and how the citizens of The Beach have pledged themselves to him. To live for him, to die for him. What an absolute lunatic; you kind of like him.

It's then that the two muscular men that had accompanied Hatter - that's what he called himself - into the conference room push the thin pocket wall dividing the room out of the way. Your eyes are met with a colorful wall coated thickly in spray painted playing cards. This must be their way of keeping track of which cards they still needed, and from the looks of things, they weren't too far off from the goal. Impressive.

Hatter paces back and forth in front of your group, animatedly describing that most things are allowed and encouraged in his self proclaimed utopia - drinking, drugs, sex, you name it. There are, however, a few limitations. "Rule one, swimwear is mandatory," he says, grandly gesturing towards a pretty woman with a bob cut. When the three of you presumably look at him questioningly, he gladly elaborates, "Well you can't very well hide weapons in swimwear, right?! It's genius!"

Ah, so no weapons then. That's disappointing. A quick glance to your right confirms your suspicions - they'd already confiscated your pistol and homemade bombs. They were sitting innocently among your groups' other possessions on a desk by the window, likely never to be seen by you again. Hatter re-enters your line of vision as he strides toward the desk, gracefully scooping up the stack of playing cards adorning it. Your playing cards, to be more specific.

"Rule two, all cards belong to The Beach. We work together to collect all the cards, sending one person back at a time as we form complete decks." You can see through your periphery that your friends are a little distressed by this particular rule, and the fact that Hatter now has your cards pressed in his hands. You on the other hand, couldn't care less. You aren't trying to get out of here anyway.

Arisu and Usagi launch into another back and forth with Hatter, and you won't lie, you're starting to get bored. Everything feels inconsequential to you at this point, and you'd prefer to just get on with it. And away from your father. You take this moment to quickly analyze the people stationed around the room. You don't, however, dare look to your left; actively avoiding your father's constant gaze burning a hole through you. So all of these people have truly bought into this man's insanity? Your incredibly intelligent father included. You briefly wonder if he's lost his mind. But no, Hatter must really be that charismatic, that convincing. Or maybe people finding themselves in this new place are really just that desperate for something to find hope in? You can't relate.

You tune listlessly back into the conversation just as Arisu asks what would happen if the three of you refused Hatter's offer. You had a feeling that you already knew the answer to that, the long-haired man in front of you looking like he'd never accepted no as an answer in his life. He turns ominously around from where he'd been ogling the cards painted carefully on the wall to face the three of you once more.

"Rule three, this is the last rule," he articulates in a low tone, holding three fingers up to you. "Death to the traitors." His oddly distant eyes stare daggers at the three of you over the top of his aviator glasses, making it clear that this was not a joke. Finally, something exciting. So you would be forced to live here and serve this man's whims - him blackmailing you into staying with the cold threat of death. Your eyes sparkled, you could have a good time here. You smirk, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as Hatter makes his grand exit. There is nothing more that needs to be said, the three of you would be locked in here until the end - whatever that might look like.

The mysterious woman with the bob cut and sunglasses covering her face strides confidently over to your group, offering to show you around and help you get settled in. You are quick to accept, knowing that you didn't have the patience or willpower right now to deal with the man still studying you from across the room. You doubted that you could avoid him forever at this resort, but you would damn well try.

He was, after all, just a ghost to you now.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You sit comfortably on a wicker barstool in front of the bar, swinging your legs back and forth in a show of indifference. One finger traces the base of your martini glass with a feather light touch, your other hand cradling your chin as you reflect on the last couple of hours. Ann turned out to be super sweet, much less intimidating than she presented herself. You liked that about her.

She had helped you choose a few outfits to stock your new wardrobe with; most pieces were beachwear, of course, but you'd also chosen some sweatshirts, long pants, and shorts for game nights. She'd also shown you to your room, giving you a full rundown of the power dynamic at The Beach as you put away your new clothes and tried to settle in to your new life.

She was quick to tell you about Aguni and the Militants, warning you in no uncertain terms to stay out of their way. Away from them entirely, if possible. A challenge. Then there was, of course, Hatter and his Executive board. You weren't surprised in the slightest to hear your father is ranked number two and has been for some time. You'd scoffed as Ann presented you with that piece of information, catching her attention. "Do you know each other?" she'd implored. You'd laughed drily, feeling no need to lie to her, "He's my Dad. And he's supposed to be dead." You know the look on your face must have been dripping in disdain and probably confused the woman sitting on the edge of your bed. Ann had pursed her cherry red lips, giving a slight nod before smiling encouragingly, "Family can be . . . difficult. Try not to waste an opportunity for a second chance." You'd hummed in acknowledgement, shooting her a half-hearted smile. Did you want to give your father a second chance? You weren't sure.

You didn't stay locked up in your room for long after Ann had rushed off to perform other Executive duties, deciding that you should at least try to take advantage of the amenities. If the people of The Beach were partying, who were you to argue? Bottoms up. You didn't bother to search for Arisu and Usagi either - you knew they'd be safe at the resort and would take care of each other. Honestly, those two were perfect for each other, and you were more of a loner anyway.

At least, you were now. It was better that way - with the way you were these days. You weren't sure how to explain it. It turns out that losing both of your parents in such a short span of time can really take a toll on a person's livelihood. You'd been in a sort of depression since everything had happened, most days you felt like a walking zombie. You still went through the motions of keeping your basic needs met and showing up to work, but you could tell that your will to thrive was not very strong. Coming into this new world was an interesting development to say the least. A positive development?

A different world, with different rules. It was a sort of sick entertainment for you, watching people fear for their lives in the game arenas as you laid your life on the line without concern. It was no concern to you if you lived or died, because you had nothing to live for here, and nothing to return to in the original world.

Whether Hatter's theories were true or not, didn't matter to you. You couldn't care less that he wanted to make all of these people bust their asses to earn cards every night just for him to be the one to return to the original world, yourself included. He could have all of your cards, for the rest of time if he wanted. You had every intention of staying here for as long as you could keep yourself alive. It was at least better than being stuck in a world where everything had been stripped from you.

After a while of soaking up the sun's golden rays and enjoying the rowdy sounds of the players splashing in the pool behind you, a shadow is cast over your form as someone approaches you from behind. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you turn to look at them. To tell them to fuck off. A slender man with sharp black eyes and a rifle slung against his shoulder slips an arm on the back of your chair and lowers himself presumptuously in the one next to you. Niragi. You had wondered when you would get the pleasure.

You raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, taking a delicate sip from your glass and allowing the pink liquid to burn its way down your throat deliciously.

The man studies you, dark eyes roaming all over your body, "What's a pretty thing like you doing over here alone?" You chuckle in disbelief, not really expecting the weakest pickup line of all time to come out of his mouth.

"I choose to be alone, thank you. And is that the best a guy like you has got? You are really underestimating me," you say dangerously, flipping your hair over your shoulder and settling back into your seat. Allowing his arm to brush lightly across your shoulders. Niragi's reputation preceeded him, you already knew he was a walking red flag. A monster. And maybe that's why you felt a little intrigued by him. It couldn't hurt to get to know him a little, right?

At the very least, you knew allowing someone like him within close proximity to you would bother your father, which was something you were highly interested in accomplishing right now. A mischievous grin spreads across your face just at the thought of his reaction to Niragi's arm being wrapped around you.

Niragi smirks, excited to have met someone who could actually hold their own against him. "Really?" he drawls, arching a pierced eyebrow at you, "Are you sure that you aren't the one underestimating me?"

You hum, leaning forward with your chin resting in both of your hands now, bright eyes clashing against his dark ones. "I know exactly who you are, Niragi. And I'm not afraid of you, you won't be getting in the way of what I want."

Your eyes narrow at him, waiting patiently for him to try to rebut you. The man standing behind the bar, Tatta you'd learned earlier, sends you a distressed look as he slides another fruity pink drink over to you; you are allowing a snake dangerously close to sinking its fangs into your neck. You smile sweetly at the boy, reassuring. You have Niragi right where you want him.

"And what about what I want, baby?" he asks, piercings glittering in the sun. You are definitely attracted to this man, monster or not. His face has gotten dangerously close too, though you certainly aren't complaining, allowing his nose to nearly touch yours. After a moment of tense silence, you flash Niragi a dazzling grin before turning your head to tip your glass all the way back, finishing off your first drink. You stand abruptly from your seat now, grasping the stem of the martini glass that Tatta just handed you as you go.

Niragi's eyebrows knit in confusion at your sudden departure,and you send a confident wink in his direction. "Guess we'll have to wait and see what you deserve to get from me," you say ardently, tone even but still teasing. Flipping your hair again to fall luxuriously back down your back, you skip off toward the other side of the glistening blue pool and leave the man sitting dumbfoundedly at the bar. You, on the other hand, were hoping to get lost in your second martini and fall asleep in the sun for a few hours.

If Niragi wanted to play cat and mouse with you, you wanted to make sure that he knew you were the cat.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

After spending your entire afternoon and early evening basking in the hot sun and drinking, you were looking forward to drowning yourself in a hot shower. Okay, maybe not drowning yourself, but at least drowning the thoughts that hadn't been sufficiently killed off by the liquor. You turn the brass door handle to enter your room, flinging the door open blindly into the darkness. You nearly jump out of your skin, clasping your hands to your mouth to mask your scream when you find a silhouette already standing by the window waiting for you.

"What the fuck!" You curse at your father, nearly having had a heart attack. You should have been expecting this, of course he wouldn't just leave you to your own devices now that he knew you were here. "Do you have to stand forebodingly in the dark like that? You could have at least turned on the light!" you exclaim again, conflicting emotions seeping out of you like a thick smoke. You indignantly flip the switch to bathe the room in warm light, finally letting your eyes study your father for the first time.

He looks mostly the same as he always has, serious and tired from - what? In the old world you could kind of understand, the man worked tirelessly as a powerful attorney, usually putting his job above his family and often times even being forced to go against his own personal ideals. What's he tired from now? Sitting at The Beach and partying all day? A part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone and let you sleep, but for some reason you don't. He turns to look fully at you now, showing very little emotion on his features, but a brief flicker of concern in his eyes. His arms are crossed characteristically across his chest, standing as though he was holding court. And somehow you're the defendent.

You shuffle further inside the room to be able to push the door shut behind you, stumbling a little bit over your strappy sandals as you do. Whoops, so maybe you'd had a little more fun at the pool than you realized.

Chestnut eyes examine you, his professional poker face giving away nothing about how he was feeling. "You're drunk," he states simply, only stoking the flames of your fury towards him.

You look incredulously up at him from where you've plopped yourself down on the plush couch against the opposing wall; a younger, very different version of yourself would probably have cried. Instead, you laugh. A coarse, mocking sort of sound. "You haven't seen me, your only daughter, in six months and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a criticism? Just when you think you know a person," you spit venomously.

"Is that all you wanted, then? Worried that I'll tarnish your precious reputation here at this stupid cult resort?" You give him no chance to respond to you, and he doesn't interrupt. Would never interrupt. Because where you are fiery and stubborn, he meets you with calm composure; a perfect counterpoint. "It all makes sense, really. All you've ever cared about was your reputation, isn't it? You've never cared about me. About Mom. No wonder she left you in the dust," you snarl. You realize that you're openly spitting vitriol at your Dad, allowing the liquor flowing through your system to drive the conversation.

He hums calmly, not taking the bait. Not responding back out of anger or hurt. Because if there was one thing your father was actually good at, it was listening to understand, not listening to react. So even though you've just spewed hateful, horrible words at him, you know he isn't hearing that. He's hearing what you aren't saying. I was so scared when you went missing. I've missed you. Why are we here? Didn't you know that I still needed you? Don't you love me anymore? What is going to happen to us here?

The man takes a couple of carefully measured strides to shorten the distance between you, sitting on your bed across from where you're sprawled somewhat drunkenly. "I understand how you must be feeling . . ." he tries to reason, one hand raised and reaching toward you slightly, but you still have shit you need to say and cut him off immediately.

"No the fuck you don't understand!" you roar without second thought of players residing in neighboring rooms. "Mom's dead. It's all your fault. You think I'm just going to throw myself into your arms?" Think again. I'm not your sweet little girl that you left behind. I'm an orphan now." You feel the emotional tide start to turn within you at this point, rage bleeding slowly into despair as you think about all of the horrible catastophes that had led you to this place.

Your father takes his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose, a classic indication that "you've stressed him out". Good. You don't say anything more now, picking lightly at a loose thread that hung from the arm of the couch. Trying to hold back tears. Because you'll be damned if you cry in front of your father today, absolutely the fuck not.

The man says your name quietly when he's certain you're finished with your outburst, "Honey, I didn't ask to come here any more than you did." He sighs, exhausted, always exhausted just like in the old world. It's then that you notice how much older he looks, like he's carrying the weight of an entire world with him. "Tell me what happened with Mom." His voice cracks just a tiny bit at the mention of his ex-wife, a change that would go unrecognized to most people, but you can tell at least that bit of news has hurt him. You turn your head to escape his scrutinizing gaze, fixing your eyes on a spot on the wall.

Eight months ago, two months before the man now sitting in front of you disappeared, your parents announced they'd be getting divorced. You'd thought it was the worst thing that could happen to you at the time. Devastation. No one wants to see the eternal love they've always known and looked up to, be shattered right in front of their eyes. You had been left disillusioned about love at the very least. Was love a real thing? Even if it was, could it last forever?

Just a few days after you had helped your Dad move into a new townhouse about twenty minutes from your childhood home, he left to go on a work trip. You were staying at the new place to help him get settled, and of course to watch Kumo, your father's Akita. It was only supposed to be a three day trip, but as three days turned into five, and then into a week, you'd panicked. Search party after search party was sent out, exhausting every location that he could possibly be.

Though no body was ever uncovered, search efforts were lifted after three weeks. Your father was presumed dead. Some people speculated that he ran away, but you knew. It didn't matter that your Dad often put work ahead of you, you knew that if he was capable of coming back, he would have. But still? There was a lot of fury in you. Your brain desperately wanted - needed - something to blame for the pain.

"She blamed herself for your disappearance. She thought that maybe you'd run away because of everything that happened, and just wanted to start fresh without us." You blink some tears from your eyes, because this was the worst part. The part that you usually left out of the story, because you were not a good daughter. Because though you'd told your Dad it was all his fault that your Mom was gone, it was really your fault. At least that's how you see it.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your nails deeply into the soft skin of your palms as the gravity of the situation weighs on you. You hazard a brief glance up at your father, finding his face softened, looking at you with as much warmth as someone like him can offer. When he realizes that you're struggling with the next part, he shifts toward you. Slowly, giving you the chance to back away from him if you want. Your father comes to kneel in front of you, carefully unwrapping your fingers from where they are leaving crescent shaped marks in your skin, taking your hands in his. Gently rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles, let me hold the pain for you.

"I-i blamed her too. I told her it was her fault that you left us . . . It was me that put that idea in her head. I-i made sure that she lost both of us and I didn't even get a chance to apologize or see her one last time before it happened," you lament. You hadn't meant it when you said it, you were just so upset. It would always be your greatest regret in life.

Your father closed his eyes, taking in the information you'd given him, processing it all with a deep, painful sigh. He shakes his head slightly, pulling you fully into his arms in a tight hug now. You stiffen initially, still a little bit hesitant, but eventually allow your head to rest on his shoulder. You feel a weight lifted from your chest, one that has been pressing down on you like a boulder for the last eight months.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. There's so much that you don't know, so much that we didn't want you to have to carry the burden of," your father consoles you, and you lose track of time as you revel in the feeling of being held by the person you thought for sure you'd never see again.

"Dad?" You whisper after a while, as if there were people of The Beach watching or listening, and honestly there probably were. "I know you're a part of this weird organization or whatever and I won't do anything to mess that up. But know this, I don't plan on going back to our world. I want to stay here."

Your statement caught Kuzuryu off guard, and his spine went rigid at hearing it. He was lucky you still had your head rested on his shoulder and weren't looking at his face, because he was certain his usually vacant expression was anything but.

There was so much you didn't know, didn't understand about this place. So much he couldn't reveal to you. The man felt a lump in his throat forming, time was a precious commodity here and he was already running out of it. The Beach had just a few remaining cards to collect before the Ten of Hearts would be revealed, and then, it would be their turn. He had a few days, maybe a week if he was lucky, to spend with you. In that time, he needed to convince you to go home when you were given the choice.

Kuzuryu might not be willing to weigh the value of other peoples' lives against each other, but to him, your life was the most valuable in the world.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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[bricko-mcfisto]

"You people always claim the new Monster Hunter is too easy"

Alright, bet. I reinstalled MHWorld today, fresh new character, no defender gear, standard armor and the gunlance a weapon I'm plenty familiar with. Figured I'd actually test it, see if my mixed feelings on Wilds in particular how bizarrely easy it felt was just me not recognizing my legacy skill or something else.

First two hunts, Great Jagras and Kulu Ya Ku? Yeah pretty easy, about the same speed as anything in Wilds, although Kulu in particular felt more interesting to fight than the new big turkey. However there's an immediate shift. Where as Lala Barina felt like it either couldn't hit me, or the "hits" it landed were like the gentle stroke of a lover, doing almost no damage, no flinch, and no stagger, Pukei Pukei actually tossed me around a little. It wasn't what I'd call hard, but the difficulty noticeably stepped up compared to the first two.

The hunt also felt a lot more dynamic with a Great Jagras showing up and knocking me on my ass after I toppled Pukei, and Rathalos just settling down right next to me while I was sharpening after Pukei ran for it in another area. Meanwhile I still remember the new fire turkey "leaving the area" and running all of like ten feet before apparently being satisfied that it had run away.

Things only keep going from there. Barroth actually carted me, granted I was playing a bit recklessly. I hadn't gone back to camp for first aid meds, and I was stubbornly refusing to use my potions or megapotions as I hadn't done a ton of farming yet, but still I was playing every bit as aggressive and skillfully as anytime in Wilds and I got my dumb ass spanked for it!

Jyuratodus wasn't hard, but I did get waterblight and goddamn I forgot what it was like for the blights to matter. I'm pretty sure I got waterblight a couple times in Wilds but it felt completely trivial. I blocked one attack from Jyura while having waterblight and suddenly it was like I couldn't dodge, I couldn't run, I was suffering. I ate my first nulberry in what feels like a couple years. Apparently on the wiki rolling takes one second off the duration in World, but in Wilds? You roll like three times and its gone, which is just...man.

Then Tobi Kadachi, by this point I hadn't really bothered building much in the way of new armor, I basically took the approach I did in wilds, building just random pieces of what was available after the mandatory hunts (this carried me to Guardian Rathalos where in one mandatory hunt and then one optional for a flame sac I had enough parts to make the full armor set and the greatsword after which the rest of low rank got even easier). Tobi Kadachi beat the shit out of me.

I am not a new player, I've played World extensively, I spent a considerable amount of time farming Tobi Kadachi in the past, I know its moveset. Having very little defense and no thunder resistance to speak of? I got smacked, I got spanked. I had to run home and go fight Barroth a couple times for better armor! Tobi Kadachi actually stunned me! Multiple monsters I've mentioned previous to now actually managed to stun me, I got stunned literally one entire time in all of Wilds low rank!

I took my barroth armor into Anjanath despite the weakness to fire, because the point was, how much prep do I actually need to do? The answer was "go make some armor that's not weak to fire you dumb bitch" and so I did. I came back, fought Anjanath, and again a monster I know well, am familiar with, with a weapon I'm comfortable with? The hunt took 17 minutes.

I don't even think Arkveld took me that long. Anjanath isn't even an apex. In conclusion, I feel extremely fucking comfortable in saying that while maybe some people criticizing wilds don't realize the full impact of their legacy skill, it is exceedingly obvious that Wilds is in fact noticeably, tangibly easier than at least MH World.

[cairos-wing]

Something that actually gets me a bit about the whole BoTW/AoC/ToTK universe is actually,,, Master Kohga. We get to learn a lot about Kohga's personality in AoC, and now with the Switch 2 memories we're able to track what he's been up to between games, but I actually think that really, Kohga seems like a really nice person.

One thing that stands out about the Yiga Clan in AoC is how fast they're willing to change sides once Astor starts turning on Sooga and Kohga. And in ToTK, the Yiga Clan when attacking you as "travellers" are often getting revenge for the fact that Link unknowingly banished Kohga to the Depths.

To me, the Yiga Clan perhaps aren't really in it for Ganon, they're in it for Kohga. They're on red alert in BoTW, because they stole the Thunder Helm and are expecting invasion, but in ToTK we get to really see and embrace the community that the Yiga have built for themselves. Petty squabbles over constructs, the endless stockpiling of bananas, their trials and training. They're less like an organization fighting for world destruction, and more just a community of rejects and outcasts who've found a home.

When they're wearing a Yiga mask, they're indiscernible from one another. Who knows where they came from? Maybe a Sheikah reject, maybe a rogue traveller, maybe even just someone who was lost and alone and saved by a rogue Yiga.

Their leader gets banished to the Depths, they don't know if he's coming home, but instead of electing a new leader and continuing Ganon's plans, they expand below ground. They build bases, they leave out bananas exactly how their leader likes them (5 days ripe) in the hopes he comes home.

And Sooga - god don't even get me started. Starving and alone, saved by Kohga from rogue Yiga agents, and deciding then and there to dedicate his life to the man? And over and over and over again, Sooga puts Kohga first, and Kohga refuses. Refuses to leave him, right up until Sooga's last moments facing off against the blights.

Ultimately, I know that AoC is only semi-trustworthy at best, but Kohga's concrete refusal through several moments to leave anyone behind, right up until that final moment where either one or the both of them die? I think the only reason Kohga didn't die there with Sooga was because he had an entire Yiga Clan depending on him. I would bet anything that honestly? Kohga isn't too concerned with Ganon anymore either.

Kohga debates even wanting Link's company when alone in the depths. Rather than looking to dismantle the Sheikah or going after Zelda, he spends time mucking about with constructs and sigils down in the Depths. Even in BoTW, he steals the Thunder Helm as revenge for Urbosa zapping him during the Calamity rather than bothering to try and figure out how to release Ganon from Zelda's seal. I bet he just uses Ganon as a reason to keep the Yiga Clan going, so all his rejects and misfits not only have somewhere to go, but so the Clan has a reason for being.

"Meeting with the Magnificent one is not something I would leave to any other Yiga" yeah I would bet that after watching an entire group of your agents be killed by Astor to revive Ganon huh? Probably safer to let them stay home.

Impa, Purah, Robbie and Kohga all survive from the 100 years between the Calamity and BoTW. He's a very, very old man now. If anything, he probably just misses Sooga. He's probably just trying to keep the Yiga Clan together.

Perhaps I'm reading too much into the old man, but I've ended up really liking Master Kohga.