#little does she know she already has his love and respect

[b3ach-bunn7]

ho is u shakespeare? that shinsou fic was the SHIT

i BEG BEG BEG FOR shinsou nsfw, you write him so good PLEASE

like headcanons, oneshots, full fics ANYTHING PLEASE I LOVE YOU MWUAH MWUAH MWAUH

NONSENSE PT 3

You can’t stop thinking of Shinsou after your first date.

NSFW, Phone sex, guys this is pure FILFFFTH tw..

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You end up calling Shinsou only an hour later. It’s actually him who calls you first, but you won’t deny the fact that you pick up almost instantly.  

“Hey.” 

His voice sounds a little breathless, and considering the fact he just got home, you assume he’s only just walked through the door, but it immediately makes you smile. You hear some rustling on the other end, a door open and close, and you assume he’s in his bedroom. You’ve set yourself up on your own bed, a Kraft Mac and cheese in your favourite mug and a movie on your laptop.

“So. It’s been a while. How have you been?” You ask and his laugh crackles in the mic.

His laugh that reminds you of his smile, which reminds you of his lips and the way they’d kissed you only minutes before. Your hands drift to where he had grabbed your face and you sit up, trying to calm yourself down.

If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you feel horny.

You have a rule for yourself. Despite your joke earlier, you have a deal with yourself to never fuck on the first date. You never really know someone properly after one, and especially with university guys, you’d rather get to know them better first. It’s also another little test, to see if they have that perfect mix of disappointment and respect at your denial.

Shinsou hadn’t even suggested at anything crazy, but that kiss had left your stomach coiling with need, and you found that you haven’t stopped thinking about him since. About getting him in your room and your bed. Your roommate wasn’t even home. It would’ve been perfect. 

But you have principles, and even cute guys like Shinsou can’t change them.

“I’m good. I’m home, now. Dropped Eri home. She said she misses you.”

You smile, tucking yourself further under your blankets. “I miss her. And so does Elizabeth.”

You can almost hear Shinsou shaking his head. “Where did she even get a name like that?”

“God knows. Thanks for winning her for me though.”

Shinsou sighs, and you hear noise on the other line. “Well. It was nothing difficult, you know.”

You hum. “It was a great date, though. Plus one and all.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have a rule for myself, and you almost made me break it.”

Fuck. You were not supposed to say that.

“Rule?”

“Anyway! I’m watching a movie. What are you doing?”

“No, no.” Shinsou interrupts. “What rule?”

“No rules. What rules? It’s nothing.” You stammer. 

Shinsou laughs. “Come on, don’t get all shy on me now. What rule?”

You huff. It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to be weirded out or anything. You’re sure that kiss meant just as much as it did to him with how far his tongue was in your mouth.

“I. Well. I sorta have this rule, that I won’t ever sleep with guy on the first date, but I almost broke it. For you.” You laugh nervously.

You hands cover your face. He’s on speaker now, and the phone is out of sight to your side like it’ll make you feel any less ashamed of the words that just came out of your mouth.

“Come over then. Fuck your rules.”

His voice has dropped, gravelly and mixed with someone else you can’t quite place, and you think you could die listening to it.

Your face flushes at his words. “Shinsou! I-I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

You feel another pang of need. But you won’t. You tell him so and he groans, and you imagine him making that noise in a different setting and you screw your eyes shut.

“I’m always one for a loophole, sweetheart. I have an idea. If you’re interested.”

You wonder if he can feel your arousal from the other line, the way you almost throw your laptop and snacks off your bed. You have some idea what he could want, and you’re already preparing yourself to say yes, untangling your legs from beneath your covers to sit up in your bed.

“I’m interested.”

He hums. There’s a beat of silence, like he’s considering his next words.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is softer now, but it’s laced with something dangerous. “For me.”

“For you?” You still try and find a way to tease him back, but you’re laying back as you speak, already preparing yourself to obey.

“Well, it can be for you too, sweetheart.” He laughs. “Well?”

“Okay.”

You delve into the very back of your bedside table, the dildo you’d bought on an especially lonely night in your hand. Your hoodie, no, Shinsou’s hoodie, is off in a second, and you’re just wearing an old T-shirt and underwear. Shinsou hears the commotion, and he suddenly speaks up.

“No rushing, okay? You’re gonna do what I tell you. All the stuff I would’ve done if I’d have come over tonight.”

Your head falls back against the pillow, and heat pools between your legs. You think you whimper slightly, and you drop the toy on the sheets next to you.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Oh fuck. You make a noise at the praise, and you can hear the smirk on his voice when he speaks once more. “I’ll remember that for later.”

You sigh. “So? What would you have done if you were coming over tonight?” 

Shinsou thinks for a moment. “Would’ve walked you to mine. Let you in and very respectfully shown you to my couch.”

His words are tame enough, but the anticipation and the thought behind them has you wondering how long it would take for you to get to his place. One of your hands trail mindlessly up and down your stomach as you turn up the volume of your phone to the max.

“I’d have gotten you a drink. Sat you down on the couch just far enough that you’d want to move closer. Would you have moved closer?”

“Yes. I would’ve.”

He hums and you hear a zipper, a rustle of fabric. “That’s good. I’d have moved closer, too. Brushed a hair out of your face. Any excuse to touch you, that gorgeous face.”

He’s not even here, and you’re this worked up. He’s barely even said anything, nothing that suggestive, but you think you’re the wettest you’ve ever been in your entire life. 

“I think- I’d have leaned in. Tried to kiss you.” You whisper.

“Yeah? Well, I would've kissed you back.” He sounds equal parts cocky and flattered, and it makes you want him that much more. You don’t love the noise that you make at that, but you do love the chuckle he makes in response.

“I wanted to kiss you all night. I think if we were anywhere else I’d have you bent over the closest surface. I don’t think I’d have been able to stop if I had gotten just one taste.”

Your hands itch towards your toy, and he tuts, ever perceptive. “Not yet.”

“Fuck, Shinsou.”

“Come on. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You can hear the stupid smirk on his face, and the strangled noise you make is so out of character of you it makes you mad, along with the satisfied sound that he makes, but you’re frankly too turned on to really care right now.

“That’s what I thought. You’d have been good for me at mine too, right? Let me take that shirt off?”

“Yes. Yes.” And in turn you fumble behind you and unclip your bra, and your chest is heaving, aching, begging to be touched.

“Would you let me play with those gorgeous tits?”

“You didn’t even see them.” You try go for teasing but you sound so breathless it’s more degrading to you than anything else.

“Oh, I can imagine. Touch them. Pretend it’s me.”

Finally. Your hands immediately come up, rough and impatient-

“Slowly. Softly, at first. I’d take my time with you.” You groan but you comply, hands almost feather light as you ghost over your nipples.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good. S’good.” You whine. “It’s not enough.”

“Would you get frustrated? Show me how rough you want it?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yes.”

And you don’t wait for the command before you’re pinching roughly, a groan leaving your lips as your hips lift off the bed and the stimulation goes straight to the heat building between your legs.

“That’s it. So good for me.” He coaxes you and another moan leaves your throat. “And what if I slipped those jeans off? Let my hands slide up those beautiful legs?”

“I-I’d let you. Please.”

“Would you be wet?”

“Yes, fuck I’m so wet. Need you, Shinsou.”

“Hitoshi. Call me Hitoshi.”

You do and he curses, and there’s more movement on his end. You wonder what he looks like right now, and you have half a mind to send him your address right now.

“That’s good. I’d give you what you need. You’d need it so badly, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” And you love that his words sound that bit strained, that he’s not as unaffected as you think he’s trying to seem.

“Please, please, Hitoshi.” You whine, and you’re not exactly sure what it is you’re begging for but you know he can give it to you.

“Tell me how wet you are. Just- One finger only.” 

You could put all five in and he’d have no way of knowing. But there’s something so domineering about his voice, and you find yourself obeying instantly. You push past your underwear, shoving them to the side to slip your pointer finger between your folds. And you’re soaked, considering how little has actually happened.

“God, I’m so wet.” You sigh, finger trailing from your slit all the way up to your clit. “So messy.”

And Shinsou groans, a curse slipping past his lips, and the way he sounds just as worked up as you are makes you keen.

“Please. I need to touch myself, Hitoshi.”

“One finger. Put it in and tell me how it feels.” His voice drips with authority and something so commanding you don’t hesitate to listen.

And it barely feels like anything, slipping inside you with no issue, no hesitation and you whine. “Not enough.”

And you remember his hands, remember staring at them while he was manoeuvring the claw machine and you shake your head. “Can I use two? Want it to feel like you, like yours.” You mumble.

“Jesus fuck.” He grunts, and you hear the sound of skin of flesh and you feel a small sense of triumph.

“You were looking at my hands, baby? Go on, fuck yourself with those fingers just like I would. Fuck, would’ve made you cum on my lap before you even thought about getting to touch me. Bet you look so good when you cum. Wish I was there to see it.”

His words are a rambled mess and it only spurs you on. Your fingers thrust in as much of a steady rhythm as you can manage, and you use your thumb to rub messily at your clit, hips bucking off the bed. You don’t think you’ve cum from just your hands in forever, but the voice groaning in your ears sounds so needy, full of so much want and it’s all for you. Your peak gets closer and you moan, and he just keeps talking you through it.

“I want to hear it, okay? You’re gonna come all over those fingers for me and I want to hear it. Tell me when you’re close.” He says.

“So close, Hitoshi, fuck.” You cry.

“Come for me.”

And you do, clenching hard around your fingers, thighs twitching as you rub yourself through it, your moans hot and heavy as they slip out your mouth. You are very glad your roommate is not home, because you can be as loud as you want, as loud as Shinsou wants.

“Shit. You sound so good when you come, fuck-“ He lets out something that sounds feral, and in the haze of your orgasm you’re not afraid to ask.

“Did you-“

“No. I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He lets out a deep breath, steeling himself, and as if you didn’t just orgasm, there’s already arousal crawling against your skin once more.

“I bet you’d be so good after you’d just come. So soft and pliant, let me take you to my room. Is that right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d let you. Want you to fuck me, Hitoshi.” Your first orgasm only makes your want grow, anticipating what’s next.

“Aw, you should’ve come back to mine.” He teases, voice soft with something dangerous hidden beneath it. “Hope you have something you can use. I can promise it won’t be as good as the real thing, though.” 

He sounds almost jealous under all the self-assuredness, and your hands immediately fumble for your toy.

“Yeah. I have it.” 

“Good.” You’re already spreading your legs. “But not yet.”

You whine. “But-“

“You really think I’m doing anything before I taste that sweet cunt of yours?”

You stutter, pushing yourself up the sheets. “You- You’d do that?”

Shinsou pauses for a moment. “Nobody ever eaten you out before, baby?”

You shudder at his words. “No- Well yes, but they never really wanted to.”

And when he groans, it’s frustrated this time. “Nobody’s ever made you come on their tongue? Felt those soft thighs clench around their head because of how good they’re making you feel?”

He sounds so matter of fact, like it’s the worst thing in the world, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so wanted in your life.

“Hitoshi- I- I don’t-“

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You deserve it, you deserve to come on my tongue. Go on, touch yourself again.” His encouragement has you immediately complying, and he doesn’t stop.

“Think about it. About me. I’d spread you out on my sheets, make you see stars by the time I’m done with you. Gotta make sure you can take me.”

And the promise of that, of him pushes you closer to the edge. You moan his name over and over like a prayer as he talks you through it, the praise making you melt against your sheets. You’re hot and sweaty and he hums.

“Last one. You’re doing so well. Grab your toy.”

You do, the soft silicone cold in your hand. “It’s not very big.” You laugh slightly, and you can hear his smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations then.”

And you can’t help but grin, because even in a moment like this he’s joking to ease your nerves.

“Go on. Fuck yourself.”

His words are so bold, so vulgar but you don’t care, because you slide the toy inside you and you feel full instantly, the stretch just there but beautifully painful. You groan, relief and arousal all mixed in one. You twitch, still sensitive after your orgasm. 

“Feels so good.” You whimper. Your thrusts are slow and long, just like you imagine he’d do it.

“It’ll feel even better when I’m inside you.” And it’s now you can hear the slick sound of flesh on flesh moving in tandem with you, and you wonder how soaked you must sound for him to be able to keep in time with you.

You know it’s nothing like what he’d actuallly feel like, but you’re so pent up. You’ve been aching for this for god knows how long now that it feels almost perfect, and you buck you hips up for a better angle, to reach deeper. The sound of his shaky breaths in your ear only spur you on. You sound filthy. Whimpers and whines and broken moans falling from you lips as you get faster.

“I can hear you, you know. How wet you are.” He sounds as close as he has all night, voice strained as he practically growls down your ears.

“M’close, Hitoshi. Wanna come with you, please.”

“Fuck, yes, yes. Come for me then, baby, fuck-“

And it’s a messy mix of moans and unintelligible noises as you both climax, and you twitch and squirm and you wonder what he looks like in the throes of his pleasure. If he looks as desperate and finished as you do. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high, and he curses once more, guttural and spent. You both pant, catching your breath once more.

“Fucking hell. That- Did you-“

“I did.” You say.

And the shyness comes in as your high starts to fade. You feel dirty but in a good way. You think that’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re glad it was with Shinsou of all people.

“So,” and you’re smiling before he can even finish his sentence. “Can I take you out on Friday?”

You hum. “Sounds like you’re just trying to get into my pants, Hitoshi.”

And he laughs, loud and boyish and you grin. 

“Well. I am. The rule doesn’t count after two dates right?”

“Correct.”

“Perfect. But.” And he sounds almost shy when he speaks again, like he wasn’t just speaking the most raunchy words you’d ever heard in your life moments ago.

“I like you. A lot. Really like you.”

“Good. I really like you a lot, too.” 

And you’re body aches and your face hurts from smiling too much, but you don’t care. You would amend your first date rule after tonight, but you don’t think you’ll be going on anymore first dates after this.

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guys this is pure SMUTTTTT LIKE omg don’t tell me Shinsou isn’t a freaky boy we all know he is… I acc couldn’t stop thinking of him after I wrote pt2 and when I got thsi ask I knew what had to be done..

I love u all and I hope u love this as much as I did! I literlaly wrote this during my lecture at uni in public so.. do with that information what u will

LOVE U GUYS

[hxrsheykisses]

Alright so, this is requesting if maybe—perchance you could do my Oc Vierla and Pete?

I was thinking maybe they’re at the mall and these jocks come to harass her or cat call her, but Pete is having none of that so he defends his girlfriend, and with that as they exit out the mall she gives him a kiss and leaves pink lip mark on him.

Also here’s my oc, thank yiuuu :3 (I love your work 🫶)

💋 WORTH IT 💋 | Pete Dinunzio x Viera ♥️

THIS IS SO CUUUUUTE!!! I appreciate your love for my work, brings a smile to my face all the time!!♥️♥️♥️♥️💋

“Pete, calm down, it’s not a big deal, really.” Viera said softly, sending her boyfriend a gentle smile. She had a hand on his, caressing his thumb with reassurance. “Just ignore them.”

“Ignore them? Yeah, that’s rich.” Pete scoffed, glaring at the two jocks who were whispering amongst themselves while sending Viera suggestive glances from afar, laughing.

Pete couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the many times he has took Viera out somewhere nice to treat her, but whenever he does, so many guys want to oogle at Viera. It doesn’t matter if they are holding hands, kissing, or doing other things that make it clear as day that they are a couple. At first, he just sucked it up and tried to push it away from his mind. Just wanting to have a good day with his girlfriend. But then these guys started to get a little too…noisy.

When they first stepped into the mall, one of the jocks whistled over at her, sending her a smirk that only gave trouble. Pete sneered at the guy before dragging Viera away who was innocently looking around the mall for any stores to check out. That already set Pete off on a bad start.

Then, another jock followed them into the food court AND paid for her food and drink while Pete was literally about to pay for the both of them. Of course the asshole didn’t pay for Pete’s shit because he was only interested in getting in his girl’s good side. He wasn’t able to enjoy his food as he glared daggers at the jock from where he was seated.

Those two encounters were pure bullshit. How does one be so bold? It makes zero sense. Now, Pete knows that he can be an asshole from time to time but he doesn’t go out of his way to go and try to steal other guy’s girlfriends like it’s a sport. He knows how to keep himself in check and knows when something is too far—at least that’s what he thinks.

Pete understands that Viera is one beautiful girl—who wouldn’t want her? But there was so much more to see other than looks. Viera is a popular girl at their school—there’s no doubt about that. Pete was lucky to even get a relationship with her. But what made her truly stand out was how she wasn’t your stereotypical mean girl—she knew that she wasn’t going to get everything handed to her on a silver platter, she treated people with respect. That’s what he liked! He doesn’t need some snobby girl who finds spreading gossip to be entertaining—but he definitely wasn’t going to just fawn over her looks. She’s beautiful, drop dead gorgeous—but she is smart, has amazing style, listens to all of his geeky interests, and not to mention how she has character. She ain’t stereotypical, she actually has her own personality! She doesn’t need validation to get through life when she has herself.

And Pete hates how that’s all that these jocks see.

Viera gave Pete’s hand a squeeze. “Oh Pete,” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I appreciate you for being worried about me. But I ain’t going anywhere! Those guys aren’t nothing but jerks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete waved her off, looking over to the side. “I just—I don’t want people to just see you for your looks. That’s—That’s bullshit. Pisses me off.” He explained. His leg bounced at a fast pace underneath the table, trying to relieve his nerves.

“Well, they can think whatever they want too cause they aren’t going to see what they want to see. You think I care about some guys who don’t care what a girl has in stock unless it’s a pretty face? Oh give me a break!” Viera waited for Pete to say something, but he didn’t. He kept his eyes glued on the table, his jaw tight. Viera removed her hand from his to wrap around his arm, scooting closer to him. “You’re the only guy I’ll ever want, Pete.” She whispered, her voice was like music to his ears and it made his heart jump.

“…You really mean that? You aren’t just sayin’ that to—“

“I mean it all.”

Pete looked at her for a moment before a smile creeped in his face. “You’re right,”

“I’m always right.” Viera laughed.

“Yeah, okay.” Pete rolled his eyes at that. “Wanna go to that clothing shop you’ve been talking nonstop about?” Pete suggested, nodding towards the clothing department.

Viera got all excited as she stood up from her seat, dragging Pete up with her. They got all of their things before making their way towards the department, talking amongst themselves with smiles on their faces.

After Viera told Pete all of that, he felt a lot more comfortable. His nerves eased up and he was able to get back in the mood. Viera is right though, he shouldn’t stress over something like that. He knows that Viera wouldn’t just up and leave to go hang around with some jocks who only saw her pretty face and ran with it. That’s all the reassurance he truly needs—

“Hey hot stuff, could you lend me your number?”

That made Pete freeze up instantly, whipping his head to see no one other than the two jocks from all the other encounters, snickering and what not. Pete clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white with anger. It was clear that they didn’t have no shame for the shit they’ve been doing and they didn’t care to stop. Pete felt like he couldn’t keep his anger in check any longer as he unhooked his arm from Viera’s grip. “Pete?” She said, raising a brow as she watched her boyfriend storm over to the jocks. “Pete! Wait!”

With no hesitation, Pete glared at the two males, leaning close to them with a sneer. “You think your fuckin’ funny? All fucking day you’ve been catcalling MY girl! The fuck is your problem!?”

The two males looked at one another, going silent before breaking out in a laugh that only added more lemon to the wound. “And? What are you going to do about it? It’s not like she wants your nerdy ass any damn way.”

Pete was trying his hardest to not knock these guys out right now but he wanted to—he wanted to teach these guys that they needed to watch their fucking mouths. He wasn’t going to take the disrespect—he wasn’t going to allow Viera to experience such bullshit if he has the power to do something about it. “Doesn’t want me, huh?” Pete let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Yet she’s with me, asshole. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but I suggest you tune it down.” Pete threatened. “My girl ain’t just a pretty face. She’s way more than that. The reason why she doesn’t even LOOK your way is because she knows that you ain’t nothing but a pile of shit who sees nothing more other than ass, tits, and face.”

The jocks looked at Pete like he had lost his ever fucking mind but Pete didn’t care. Hes had his fair share with some physical fights and this was no different. He ain’t going to sit back and allow these assholes to talk about Viera like a piece of meat, they’ve had their fun—and now it was his turn. “I suggest you keep your damn mouths shut, jackasses.” Was the last thing Pete said before turning around, storming back towards Viera, grabbing her around the waist as he sped walked with her.

… .

It was a pretty awkward silence for the remainder of the trip in the mall. There was some small talk between the two but they didn’t really talk. While on their way out, Viera looked over at Pete who was effortlessly carrying the countless of shopping bags of her bought items in his hands. “Pete?” She said softly. Pete let out a grunt in response.

Viera smiled before leaning over and planting a glossy pink kiss on his cheek, resulting Pete to stop walking and stand there in shock. “Thank you for doing that for me,” Viera said, her voice was covered with appreciation. “I wouldn’t trade you for a thing.”

Pete kept his mouth shut in a thin line, feeling the heat rush to his face. He blinked, shaking his head slowly. He coughed to clear his throat bashfully, stammering over his words for a bit. “Uh, yeah…yeah,” Pete let out a sigh. “I…I guess it was worth almost getting my ass dropped in the Mall.”

“Oh, stop it! I’m sure you are able to take those guys on!”

Pete snapped his head towards her. “Oh, stop fucking with me.”

“It’s true! I’m being serious! If it came down to me, I know you would!”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“Am not!”

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.239 thoughts

[The Greatest Ending Ever]

(Topics: thematic analysis - joy, character analysis - Andy/Fuuko/Union, narrative analysis - narrative utility, speculation - epilogue, appreciation)

Congratulations to everyone reading this review!

You did it! You pushed through all of the hard times in your life, everything that made you wish you weren't around, and lasted long enough to see the conclusion of one of the best stories ever told!

I'm so proud of you, and I hope to see you at the end of the next great story as well!

I rewrote this intro half a dozen times, trying desperately to find the right tone to set. I tried being somber, but that felt depressing. I tried being goofy, but that felt disrespectful. I tried being straightforward, but that felt detached

In the end, there was only one way that was ever going to feel right: I had to match the tone of the finale itself. I don't want to end this series feeling like we're at a funeral or in a lecture hall, I want to end it the same way Tozuka did: feeling like we're at a party!!!

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

This chapter is a celebration of the series, a wrap-party for the cast and setting, a curtain call to give the audience one last hurrah with everything we loved so much about the series!

We get a little "where-are-they-now" for all of the Negators, with everyone living out their dreams or putting their pasts behind them. Some of them are living large as professional athletes or business owners, some of them are more humble and bringing up the next generation, but everyone is clearly enjoying their life!

Seeing everyone living normally and happily, whether they're already successful or working their way up, is so rewarding. It's certainly a deheightening from the excitement of being superhumans and immortals, but knowing that people I love are no longer suffering and have become comfortable with themselves and their lives makes the tradeoff from being "cool" to "mundane" more than worth it

Besides, our main couple's lives are still anything but what I'd call mundane

Be the Change You Want to See

Andy and Fuuko's new lives create such perfect foils to where they started their respective stories

Where Fuuko started her story alone and locked away in isolation, dreaming of seeing the world, now she explores it without reservation with a lifelong friend by her side. She can go where she wants, she can wear what she wants, and she can touch who she wants

Andy, meanwhile, has always been traveling, but where before he did so aimlessly and alone, now he does so with purpose as part of a team (named Wind, after the "Fuu" in Fuuko). Instead of hoping to stumble upon his own end, he now seeks to create a better world, protecting people from injustices and giving them the means to improve their lives. No longer ignoring the needs of others for his own death, he now uses his life to provide others those very needs

Both now actively want to live their lives, and now, though currently apart from each other, are surrounded by people who love them, and are thematically the most important people they could be with. Fuuko travels with Gina, Fuuko's best friend standing as representation of the bonds forged along the way, while Andy travels with Rip and Nico, two of his greatest rivals representing the internal conflicts that have been resolved along the way

While other characters definitely got similar attention from the narrative, like Julia, Shen, Chikara, Feng and Sean, this group in particular really feels like the true core team. They were the most consistently present in the narrative, and even ended up being the ones focused on when removing The Heart from Fuuko (though Latla had to stand in for Rip for medical reasons), so I think it's safe to say this is how Tozuka views them at the very least

Of course, just because they're all so tight-knit doesn't mean that they can't misjudge each other at times. Their respective teams were aware of the upcoming wedding, and had faith that the newlyweds-to-be factored that into their planned tours, only to realize...

Both of them forgot

What a Shame the Poor Groom's Bride is Stupid

Fortunately, they know each other well enough that they know they aren't the only one to make that mistake, and decide to make a game out of it: whoever gets to the altar first gets to lord it over the other for the rest of their life!

This is a great moment of characterization for both of them, as not only are they comfortable enough with each other to spend so much time apart without worry, they also have absolute faith that the other, for all their faults, loves them with all their heart. Because they both messed up, neither of them can be called "the irresponsible one," while still allowing them both to be the same goofy and endearingly stupid couple they've always been

The fact that both of them make it to the altar at the exact same time, in the same spectacular fashion, establishes them as on perfectly equal footing in the relationship (despite the fact that they were both trying to make a powerplay out of their mutual screwup)

I can see how some people might dislike the choice to have them both forget the wedding, though. Where to me it reads as comfort and faith in each other, others may read it as flippant disregard for an extremely important moment in their lives together and for the sheer amount of time that they're wasting for their friends. Some folks have even suggested that this means they're going to be bad parents, which...is possible, but I just can't get behind that thought. I think they'll be odd parents, but not absentees a la Naruto or Yoh

No, I don't think this ridiculous turn of events was meant to establish that they'll be a forgetful couple or anything negative like that, I think it was yet another masterful example of Tozuka's greatest skill as a writer: narrative utility

4D Chessmaster

First of all, the panel where they realize they both forgot the wedding is, without exaggeration, the funniest panel in the whole manga to me. It's great comedy while also injecting highly personal if low-threat stakes into the final chapter

Secondly, it presented an opportunity to work Billy and Tatiana in as active members of this final story without simply having them mingle in the crowd at the wedding itself. Having the two of them specifically fill the same roles in parallel lets them act as a duo (even when separated, like Andy and Fuuko) while also reinforcing the visual of Fuuko being surrounded by her best friends and Andy reconciling with his greatest enemies

Finally, it facilitated the most important straggler making an appearance at the wedding. No, not Sean or Feng being late, they could easily have just been written to be on time in the first place, someone more thematically important and absolutely vital to painting an iconic vignette to end the series on:

Luna

The full moon is, without doubt, the most important recurring visual motif in the series, so there was absolutely no way that Tozuka was going to let Andy and Fuuko get married without it adorning the sky

It would have been easy to just write their wedding happening at night, but again, we needed to get a glimpse at everyone's lives and some much-needed levity after the rollercoaster of the final Ragnarok. Setting the wedding during the day, under the Sun that oppressed humanity for eons, only to have their ridiculous antics and disregard for tradition stall long enough for the Moon that gave them the means to fight that oppression to come out creates a wonderful microcosm for the series as a whole

The visual of Andy and Fuuko riding off into the moonlight, now surrounded by stars rather than alone in an empty, rather than the more traditional sunset is a symbol of their liberation, their freedom to live their lives as they please for as long as they please with whomever they please

It also serves to fulfill Luna's ultimate goal: to see the value of the Rules that was previously unknown to her. Yes, the Union showed her the power of love when overcoming Sun, but that wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. That moment is what paved the way for the Negators and all of humanity to make of the world and its Rules what they need to live The Greatest Life Ever

This is also why I'm happy to admit that, appropriately as usual, I was wrong in my prediction: Undead Unluck did not, in fact, end with Andy's death

Life After Love

I've said since chapter 1 that the point of Undead Unluck was to teach Andy that life was worth living, and that The Greatest Death Ever would be one that follows a life well-lived. I always figured that we would get to actually see the literal death, but looking at it now, I think that this was the better choice as a final note to leave the series on

As I said in the intro, this chapter is a celebration, not a funeral. In much the same way that Oda has difficulty killing characters in One Piece because it would put a damper on the party that follows a huge battle, Tozuka may have wanted to avoid a bittersweet ending because it would be harder to push the theme of enjoying life while in mourning

Not that it would have been impossible, and it certainly would have been impactful to force us as the audience to wrestle with that dichotomy, but a complex ending is not necessarily the best ending. We aren't stupid, we can infer that Andy and Fuuko will one day die, and that when they do, all of the people they love will still be a part of their lives to see them off and remember them

But knowing that they'll die is completely different from seeing them die. Showing us the death in person would be asking us to grieve, to accept, and to move on, but the acceptance of death has never been one of Undead Unluck's core themes, at least not directly. Instead, accepting death was more of a subtheme to the greater theme of embracing life, and that is what the final page is really asking us to do

This is the story of Andy, Fuuko Izumo, and everyone living in this world, and their quest for The Greatest Death Ever

We aren't shown The Greatest Death Ever because that death isn't actually for Andy and Fuuko: it's for us

It's for us to interpret what that death would entail, for us to enjoy our lives, and for us to complete the quest

Andy and Fuuko gave us an example, but they didn't tell us what to do. They didn't give us a cheat code, there's no way to speedrun it, we just have to take the long way and have fun figuring out how to play the game all the while. At best, Tozuka (and Akira, in-series) gave us a strategy guide to get us started, but much like the Union didn't change the Rules of the world and instead wants to empower people to better themselves, only we can decide what Our Greatest Life and Death will be

Of course, this is all assuming that this is actually the final note Tozuka is leaving us on

What Comes Next

It just wouldn't be a 4Y1A Review without some speculation, now would it?

For the last several months, I've been saying that UU would end on ch.241 in order to give the final volume the usual nine chapters (which would also have given it the 5-year anniversary Jump cover, but whatever...), but ending on ch.239 means that there would be a bit less content than usual

It's not unheard of for a final volume to be a little shorter than usual, but it's also very common for final volumes to include one or both of two options: a bonus chapter and the pilot chapter

Given that Undead + Unluck is an actual plot point, there is a very good chance that it'll be included in the final volume, and I would definitely be excited to see an official translation of it. Moreso than that, though, I'd really like just one more chapter to tie up some loose ends

The way I see it, there are three possible routes for a bonus chapter to go:

Andy's death

Ruin and Soul's life in the final world

A full exploration of Sun and Luna's backstory

The first, as I said, would likely be bittersweet, but would at least fulfill the narrative promise of Andy's dream while also giving us a nice opportunity for a little bit more AnFuu content. A lot of folks were upset that we didn't see Andy and Fuuko kiss at their wedding, and there wasn't even any discussion about how Fuuko can touch people without fear anymore, so an epilogue detailing their later years and their family life would be welcomed

On the other hand, covering Ruin and Soul would give us a look into how well the world is living up to Fuuko's vision and would give Ruin his much-needed capstone since he didn't get one during Ragnarok. How is he holding up without Blood and Shadow? What does his happiness look like? What kind of relationship does he have with Soul? I would hate to think that these two are the only ones Tozuka doesn't care to give a happy ending to

Finally, the least likely but possibly the most interesting, getting more details on Sun and Luna would just be a fun way to revisit Tozuka's world-building one last time. The world that they come from is the biggest remaining mystery, and I still don't fully understand what Luna's real goal actually was, so I think getting a little more perspective on it would be helpful, even if it still ends up being somewhat vague

However, Tozuka might want to leave it vague. It doesn't matter to the cast, it doesn't inform anything about their lives, so why does it matter that there's a greater cosmology that they'll never interact with? Furthermore, leaving a dangling thread like that means that we still have something to wonder about, a little knot for the curious to spend the next few years trying to untangle in our minds just for fun. Tying up every single detail in a neat little bow is satisfying, but satisfaction doesn't leave any room to play around in the space, so that may have been Tozuka's last little gift to us for the sake of enrichment

Volume 27 won't be out until April it looks like, so we'll have to wait a bit longer to know for sure what route Tozuka will take if he does any of these at all. Heck, theoretically he could do all three if he has 50 pages to work with, but I'm definitely not putting my money on that horse (bluffing specifically so I'll be wrong)

There is one thing I do know for sure though: this is not my last review for Undead Unluck!

Not only do we have the Winter Special coming up (eventually...), we also will be receiving a third light novel! I'm absolutely going to review both of those when the time comes, so whether or not we get an epilogue chapter, you will be hearing from me again!

Until then, it has been an incredible honor to have you all read these reviews, respond to them, riff on them, and most importantly, enjoy them. This has been one of the best fandom experiences I've ever had, and that's thanks to all of you

Thank you all for making my favorite manga something bigger than I ever dreamed it would become

Thank you all for reading my work and giving me reason to dive deeper than I might have all alone

Thank you all for being my friends

Now

Let's enjoy life

[thezombieprostitute]

Hey Zombie, quick question about Tech Tuesday. Do you intend for Rose to cross path with one of her former boss again so that Jonathan might find out how she was treated ?

Tech Tuesday: Jonathan Pine

Summary: A dinner date with Jonathan is interrupted.

Warnings: Implied age discrimination, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is 40+ years old and female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Previous

It doesn't matter that this isn't your first date with Jonathan. That you've slept together already. That the entire office knows the two of you are together. The butterflies are still fluttering with nervousness as you get ready. Maybe it's the place he's taking you to? It is higher up on the fanciness scale than you've ever been to before. You got a look at the menu online and warned Jonathan you couldn't pronounce half of the items! He assured you he'd handle the French words for you.

Your face heated up a little in embarrassment at how his fluent French makes you swoon. You have no idea what he's saying but it sounds so lovely. Especially when he says them with such reverence towards you. He could just be reciting a recipe but the way he says makes you believe he's actually saying you're beautiful. Quite the accomplishment for him to get you to believe, especially given your history.

You shake your head. Now's not the time to think of all those horrible bosses you had. All the ones who fired you so they could get more time with young, skinny, pretty newer secretary. But you're with someone better now. A boss who actually treats you with respect. Who wants you to stay. And he thinks you're beautiful. He's even been getting you to think that maybe, just maybe, he's right. It's why you bought yourself the bold red dress you're wearing tonight. It makes you feel almost as beautiful as he keeps saying you are.

Stepping out of your building to get into Jonathan's car, you relish the hungry look he gives you as he opens the car door for you. He kisses your hand, giving you a meaningful look, before helping you into the car. Yeah, he's almost got you believing.

Ever the gentleman, Jonathan holds out your chair for you to sit before taking his own seat next to you. You appreciate that he didn't take the one opposite. While it's good for eye contact, you prefer the closeness of having him next to you. It also makes it easier for him to whisper in your ear the scandalous things he wants to do with you. Whispers that have you squirming in your seat as he smirks.

True to his word, Jonathan handled the ordering of the food. His voice and clear pronunciation giving you heart eyes when you look at him. Does he know how silky smooth his voice is?, you wonder as you gently bite your lip.

The appetizers are served and Jonathan, with your prompting, explains what each one is. He also reiterates that if you don't like something he's picked you are more than welcome to say so. He will not take offense, "especially as it just means more for me." The entire time one of you always has a hand on the other. Whether it's your hand on his knee or his hand caressing your face, or his arm around you. You're always touching and it makes you feel like he truly doesn't mind being seen with you.

Soon after the main course is served your fun is interrupted by someone shouting your name. You drop your fork as you recognize the voice.

You turn towards the source. Sure enough, it's him. "Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?" You feel Jonathan go rigid as he squeezes your hand. A silent indicator that he's ready to stand in as you need him.

"I'm here to eat," Stark replies. "But then I see you here with a boy-toy and I decided to come over and ask if you wanted your old job back."

"No," you huff, before turning back to your food.

"No?" he exclaims. "Listen, I'm not one for admitting I make mistakes---"

"All the more reason for me to not go back to working for you," you interrupt.

He hisses as he breathes in through his teeth. "Look, I lost a lot of clients when I fired you. Hiring you back on would go a long way towards winning them back. So much so, I'll double what I was paying you."

"What happened to the perky little thing who you gave my job to?" Your tone is innocent but you already know what he's going to say.

Rolling his eyes he tells you, "turns out she was better at being bent over the desk than she was working at it. Her incompetence cost me a lot."

"Your incompetence, Mr. Stark," you retort. "I was fine to let her be your plaything while I did the actual work but when she got worried about being fired by HR for not doing her actual job she whined to you and you fired me. Her incompetence is one thing, but you chose to fire me. You fell for her sob story about feeling inadequate. You cost yourself those clients."

"And now I'm apologizing," Stark snipes back. "It's not my strong suit, but fine. I made a mistake in firing you. Come back and I'll triple your pay."

"Not a chance," you shake your head. "My current job doesn't pay as much as you're promising, but I'm treated with the utmost respect for someone of my skills and experience."

"Fucking hell," he sighs. He looks to Jonathan, 'you just gonna sit there? Not gonna defend your girl like a good boyfriend would? Or are you just an escort she hired to make herself feel better?"

"The lady doesn't need my help," Jonathan calmly answers. "Her thorns are quite sharp enough to take you down. Though, if you don't leave us be, I will be forced to ask that you be removed from the restaurant. Perhaps you should go back to your meal? Maybe you'll think more clearly on a full stomach."

Stark gives a huff and an eye roll before turning back towards his table. As soon as his back is turned you let out a shaky breath and Jonathan feels you trembling.

"Are you alright? Do we need to leave?" he asks as he gently turns your face towards his. His brilliant blue eyes are full of concern.

You put your own hand over his, holding him to your cheek. "I'll be okay. That was just...I've been wanting to tell him off for so long."

"Considering the nature of your firing, I'm not surprised," Jonathan admits. "How could someone be so shallow?"

You give a little snort, "it's not just him. Look over my resume. Pretty much every boss I had fired me for shallow reasons as soon as a prettier assistant became an option. Prettier, younger, skinnier, whatever."

He looks pained as he realizes what you've been through. "I have to admit, this does explain several things. And it makes me all the more grateful you've been willing to give me this chance to be with you."

Jonathan cups your face and brings you in for a deep, loving kiss.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[4lexnilsen]

“stop the fucking car,  helena.   i’m done playing whatever game you’re playing.   i’m tired of repeating the same thing over and over and over again only to feel like i’m talking to a wall.”   fingers carding through his locks,  alex has never been quite so frustrated.   this whole psychological bullshit means absolutely nothing —   he’s NOT a bully,  he never makes fun of her,  and as long as she’s respectful towards him and his friends,  that’s the kind of energy he sends out to her in return.   she won’t guilt him into feeling like the villain when he’s simply defending the ones he cares about.   “fine.   don’t elaborate on anything,  keep throwing random diagnosis and insults at me,  see where that takes you.”   how very mature of her.   he rubs his temples,  wishing they’d just explode and end his suffering at this point.

“oh?   i’m revolting?   but it’s perfectly okay for you to sexualize me?   you need to get these double standards sorted out.   don’t expect me to just sit here and put up with all this infidelity talk without saying anything back.”   she literally told him that he was screwing poppy!   how’s that any different?   jesus christ,  how could he ever consider helena his true friend?   she’s an attention-hungry brat,  that’s what she is.   as soon as he focuses on someone else,  he gets accused of cheating and labeled as a narcissistic asshole.   “i’m very happy with my life,  thank you for your concern,  though.”   she’s the only one giving him headaches and causing any frustration in his life.   “do you seriously have to be the most important person in every room?   why do you expect me to prioritize you over sarah or poppy?   what makes you think you’re better than everyone else?”   she loves to talk about his parents,  but at least ed and elizabeth nilsen didn’t raise a spoiled princess who needs the world to revolve around her.

“next thing you’ll be calling me is a sociopath.   i’m bracing myself for yet another unprompted diagnosis that’s nothing but bullshit.”   she can never elaborate on what exactly the criteria is,  how exactly is he so damaged.   does she have a degree in psychology?   clearly not.   she’s probably seen a few episodes of the good doctor and suddenly is an expert.   “i could care less about your daddy’s money,  but if i’m a sad,  broken little boy then you’re just a spoiled fucking brat.”   he rolls his eyes and lets go of the steering wheel,  grabbing the door handle instead and trying to open the door even as the car continues to speed down the interstate.   “I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE.”   before she crashes into a truck or something.   before she digs up more painful memories from his past just to poke holes in them and psychoanalyze his ways.

she infuriates him because she sees right through him —   he would have to have a death wish to act on his words and pull on the brake.   he won’t say it out loud,  but she’s right and doing so would surely send them flying,  spinning and straight up crashing.   he doesn’t want to risk his life or health,  and as much as he despises hell-lena’s guts at the moment,  he also doesn’t want to gamble with hers.   he lets go of the brake wordlessly,  just glaring at her,  pale blue eyes growing ice-cold.   as she begins to accelerate even more,  god,  he doesn’t want to know how fast they’re going,  he does the opposite of what he assumes she wants to see and does his best to appear relaxed.   unbothered.   fuck her and her stupid mind games.   he hopes she gets pulled over,  prays daddy will have to bail her out.   “WHY are you pinching me?!   why is it okay for you to hurt me but a big deal when i defend myself from your abuse?”   his thigh still stings where she’s pinched it,  and he’s sure there’s a bruise forming already beneath the denim.   how’s any of this fair?

“are you fucking serious right now?   are you seriously asking me why i don’t want to show up at my girlfriend’s workplace with a psych ward escapee?”   he can already imagine sarah’s face,  knows how confused she’ll be and would rather avoid making a scene around her colleagues.   helena doesn’t have the right to ruin his relationship or question his honesty and loyalty —   it’s between him and sarah,  has nothing to do with her.   “are you seriously threatening me with prison right now?   when you’re the one breaking every law,  going over the speed limit,  playing with our lives for the fun of it?   that’s how you get what you want,  isn’t it?   first,  you try to impress people,  bribe them into being your puppets and when that doesn’t work out,  you show your true colors and threaten them.   lovely manipulation techniques.”   but it does shush him up.   he’s a man twice her size and she does have enough money to hire lawyers who’d ruin his future in less than five minutes.   “i never want to see you again after this,”   is all he says before tossing her phone back into her lap,  refraining from aiming for her head instead,  folding his arms over his chest and looking out the window.   fuck her.

"just like you make fun of me!? ALL the time? maybe i'm tired of just taking it.. that seems to piss off the actual bullies off really well every time that happens though. they hate it when their victims get tired of it, so it gets turned on them. you're just proving it." people who are kind, finally get tired of being kind after being stomped on and then looked at like the bad guy EVERY single time... this situation, no different. and it's shocking most of all... because she didn't think he would act like this, out of all people. "i've already told you!" she isn't explaining it again and again, when she's already did that... it clearly won't matter so there's no use. and at this point, he's starting to successfully make her feel crazy, almost tricking her brain it really is just all in her head? maybe this girl is absolutely innocent, maybe it's just alex who's been causing the weird vibe. no, not when there's so much proof, it's not her fault he's blind to it. she can't let him manipulate her.

"that's so degrading. you're revolting." if he can talk like that, demean her, sexualize her, how is it not likely that he's just been attempting to be her friend so she can be another poppy? at this point, revealing what a totally different person he's revealed himself in being, helena doesn't trust it anymore. that would make sense, would it not? why he doesn't seem to value her as his friend, like he does his other one who clearly doesn't care to give him what he wants? "maybe it's you taking out your frustrations, that's why i'm not that important. that's why you've revealed your true colors. i get it now." because she's not initiating things in the way he wants her to so she can be another side whore. "clearly i do, since you fit EVERY criteria of one." the sometimes nice to her, sometimes terrible to her part. thinks he's superior part. lack of empathy part. envy of others part. "is that your problem with me? you hate me because i come from a family with money? you really ARE just like everybody else," tears flying out of her eyes now, rosy painted cheeks flushed with heated rage. "say what? putting words in my mouth? but sure, since you said it.. it must be true." something must've made him so emotionally unavailable and that must be the start of it.

eyes briefly flickering from the road to the brake, she's almost at the exit she needs to fly down to sarah's auditorium that she's putting the puzzle pieces together from the small glimpse of the name from the post she managed to dig up before he snatched it away. and she's losing the upper hand, mind quickly circling on how to take back control. "pull the brake at this speed and we'll crash." that's just the facts, he can't pull it or they'll go spinning. and it angers her he thinks he can just take control, so her foot hits the acceleration even harder to ensure he can't pull it even if it risks getting pulled over as jaw clenches and eyes focus back on the lanes she's hanging the hard curve with. left arm jerking back when her wrist is left stinging at his slap, "WHY are you smacking me?! you're the one trying to kill us! i can drive this car PERFECTLY FINE if you'd stop trying to jerk the wheel and make it come to an abrupt stop!" shoving him away from her when he calls her insane and essentially calls her a homewrecker which is so far from the truth it's disgusting, she's done with the conversations about poppy... this is about sarah now.

"why are you running from sarah now? you have something you want to say to her, remember. so i'm just doing what you SAID." TAKING him to sarah, just like he SAID. "please, you think you're the big bad man here? 9-1-1 would easily take you. hitting a woman, and with daddy's money," mocking him, "remember," a new fresh wave of tears flooding her face because she hates he uses something out of her control against her, that he reminds her of all of the people who has always judged her for being the heiress to a wealthy family, and with her emotions angry and spiraling, of course she wants to use it to make threats and sarcastic jabs at him because of how much it hurts when she thought he was her friend and he just keeps driving the dagger DEEPER, "you could go to prison for life." he wants to judge and label her as some rich brat, make her feel like a terrible person because of the background she comes from, then that's what he deserves to get.

[futuremrscameron]

no but kiara and jj being siblings would make mike and anna trying to keep them apart and calling jj a bad influence hurt 10x more

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

————

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[envy-of-the-apple]

Family Man Part 2

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part One

Word Count: 8.9k

thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!

Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.

(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))

Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 

For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 

He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 

And you feel empty all over again. 

It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 

Grief. Mourning. Loss. 

When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 

"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."

You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 

He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 

On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 

In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 

"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

He bows. So do you. 

"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 

He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 

Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 

You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.

You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.

Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.

She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.

These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.

You don’t know where you’d be without her.

She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.

You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.

You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.

Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?

You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.

Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.

You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.

You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.

And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.

“There are stains on your blouse.”

You glance down before shrugging.

“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.

Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.

Another milestone Satoshi would miss.

“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”

You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.

On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.

She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.

“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.

“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”

It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.

She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.

You wonder if she blames you for his death.

“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”

A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.

He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.

His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.

You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.

You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.

You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.

Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.

“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”

When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.

On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.

She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.

The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.

Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.

There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.

“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.

“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.

You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.

“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”

“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”

He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”

You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.

Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.

“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.

You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.

He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.

Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.

“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”

He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”

You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.

He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.

Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.

“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.

You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”

“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.

You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.

When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.

Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.

He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.

“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby

You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.

They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.

He’s good with her.

Like Satoshi was.

You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.

“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”

“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.

She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.

When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.

“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”

“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.

And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.

“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.

“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.

“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”

“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.

“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”

He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.

Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?

“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.

When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.

When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.

Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.

You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—

“How much?” He suddenly asks.

You fumble. “What?”

He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”

You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.

Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.

“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”

You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.

“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.

You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.

“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”

His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.

“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”

Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.

Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?

You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.

“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”

You lower your gaze when you take the check.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.

“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”

He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.

You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.

And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.

Sometimes, you dream of home.

Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.

In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.

Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.

Satoshi was one of them.

When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.

It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.

“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.

You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.

She doesn’t smile.

“Be careful.”

You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.

And then you woke up.

Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.

It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.

You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.

You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?

Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.

The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.

There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.

You still have that trophy a decade later.

You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.

They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.

You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.

You miss home.

You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.

“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.

“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.

“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”

Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.

“What’s been going on?” He asks.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.

It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”

“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

He’s silent for a few more moments and then—

“Maybe you’re haunted.”

You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.

“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”

In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.

“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”

You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.

“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”

To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.

Then, Satoru turns to you.

“Or something like that.”

You aren’t impressed.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.

“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”

Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.

He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.

You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.

“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”

“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”

And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

He looks at you then.

“For cheating.”

You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.

“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.

You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.

Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.

But it was fixable.

Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.

You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.

“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”

She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.

“The same as always,” you respond.

You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.

But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?

“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.

The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.

“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”

You stare at him.

“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”

That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?

“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”

You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”

“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”

Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.

“Okay,” you say instead.

Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.

The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.

“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”

You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”

“You?” You prod.

He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.

“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.

“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”

“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.

You stare at him. He’s grinning.

“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.

“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”

You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.

“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”

He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.

“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”

He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.

“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”

You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“I’m thinking of going back home.”

He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.

“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.

You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”

You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.

He’s silent, swirling his glass.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”

“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”

You deflate.

“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”

You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.

Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.

“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.

“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”

“You could.”

You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

And that everything closes the distance between you and him.

It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...

And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.

You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.

You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.

Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?

Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.

Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”

“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”

You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.

Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.

“I love you.”

It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 

“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”

“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”

He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.

This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.

“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”

He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.

You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.

“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.

“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”

Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?

You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—

You kiss him again to stop thinking.

You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.

Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.

He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.

“Bedroom.” You insist.

He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.

Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.

“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”

Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.

He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.

It scares you.

“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”

You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”

You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.

He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.

He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.

He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”

You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.

When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.

He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.

His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.

He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.

“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”

“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”

You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.

It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.

You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.

“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”

He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.

He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.

It felt so good to stop thinking.

“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”

“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”

It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.

Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.

“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.

You nod. He smiles.

He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.

It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.

Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”

That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.

And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.

You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.

He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.

“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.

Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.

You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.

And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.

“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”

“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.

Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.

“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.

“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”

The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.

“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.

He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.

It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.

By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.

He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.

“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”

If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.

You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.

Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.

“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”

You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.

Instead, he groans.

“I’m getting dessert now, too?”

“What?”

As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.

He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.

He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.

Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.

Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.

“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”

Your eyes widen. So does his.

You think you just ruined everything.

And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.

“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.

You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”

“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”

You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.

“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”

You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.

“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.

“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”

You’re finally back in his arms.

Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.

He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.

And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.

“Give...them...back.”

Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.

He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”

Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.

To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.

“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”

Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”

The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.

“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.

“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”

“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”

Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.

“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."

A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.

Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.

A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.

You say yes.

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[malkaviian]

i was going to draw sayaka and byakuya on the vamp au but realized that i also have to design their clothes and thats a lot of work for a shitpost related to a ship i dont even like

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cabin confessions : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n loves gushing about Percy to her siblings, Percy accidentally finds out about this and he's absolutely obsessed with it.

author: i'll never get tired of cabin ten reader x percy, probs will write more abt them because ugh i just love them, also mentions of marriage!!

She sits on her bed, a brush in her hand as she gently runs it through the little girl's hair, her touch tender and soothing, pouring care into each stroke through the knots.

Her siblings sit in a circle around her on the floor, listening to her and hanging onto her every word as she recalls the time she was just friends with Percy.

"How come you two started dating?" Lacy asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

They already know how the story goes, they have heard about it at least twice now, but every time they look as interested on it as if it was their first time hearing about it.

"We were friends for a long time. I always thought that's all we would ever be." She starts, settling down the brush. "Percy was just... you know, Percy. All charming and brave and, well— completely clueless about my crush on him."

One of them giggles. "You had a crush on him first? wasn't he the one that asked you out?"

"Yes, he was, but it took him long enough to do it." she replies, smiling fondly at the memory as she starts to braid her sister's hair. "We kissed first, can you believe it? and even after that, Percy was still a nervous wreck when he asked me out. It was like he had forgotten how to talk and kept stumbling over his words, I honestly thought he was choking at some point."

The group erupts into laughter.

"And did you say yes right away?" Another sister pipes up, leaning forward with anticipation.

"I don't think he would've survived if I didn’t." She grins, her fingers working on the braid. "He was so sweet, he took me out for a picnic by the lake and he was honestly... just so perfect. I couldn't say no to him."

One of her brothers smirks, leaning back. "I would've made him work harder for it."

"He's worth it. He's always worth it." a chorus of 'awws' fill the room just as she's finished with her Lily's braid. "Okay, who's next?"

Lily grins at her and goes to sit down with the rest of the siblings, happy with her new braid, and the next sister in line takes her place on the bed while y/n grabs the brush again.

She knows they're not done with their questions. "And how did you two kiss for the first time?"

Beaming at the question, she tells the whole story again and again, going through the details while keeping everyone's hair knotless and braided.

Percy has always been amused by y/n's relationship with her siblings. Besides Tyson, he doesn't have anyone else to share a cabin with, so he doesn’t really get too many bonding opportunities as she does. She always tells him about the endless afternoons of talking, the movie nights, the blanket forts, and he can't help but feel just the tiniest bit of envy as he listens.

Right now, Tyson isn't even around because he's too busy to come back to camp this summer. So even if Percy's trying hard to respect his girlfriend's quality time with her siblings this afternoon, he ends up missing her too much.

Which leads him here, finally giving up on spending time by himself, he heads towards cabin 10, hoping y/n will let him crash her sleepover because he just needs to see her.

However, just when he's about to knock on the wooden door, he notices it's slightly cracked open. Laughter spills out, and he can even pick up her laugh among the others.

He doesn’t mean to pry, really, but it's not his fault that just when he's about to announce himself, he hears one of her little sisters asking. "And do you think you'll marry him?"

Percy stops right on his track, something just tells him they're talking about him. His suspicions only get confirmed when y/n is the one replying to the question. "Well, we're still young. But I can't picture myself marrying anyone else, you know?"

Gasps and excited chatter fill the room. Some of them beg for her to be flower girls at the wedding, while she tries, and fails, to get them to quiet down.

Percy's frozen in his spot. His heart skips a beat or two at her words. He leans against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think he wants to marry you, too?" another one asks when the room finally falls silent again.

He does. Percy wants to make his presence known just to answer the question himself.

y/n chuckles softly "Well that's something that you'd have to ask him. But I sure hope so."

"You should propose to him instead." one suggests, they all break into a fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should. Do you reckon he'd like that?" She asks playfully.

Another sibling chimes in "He'd probably faint right on the spot."

Percy can't help himself anymore. Before he can think it through, his knuckles softly knock on the door. Everyone immediately falls silent, turning to look at the doorway, where he's shyly standing.

y/n's smile grows bigger once she looks up and finds him there. "Percy!"

"hope i'm not interrupting anything." he steps in, trying to keep his cool even though his heart is racing.

The Aphrodite kids exchange mischievous looks, some covering their mouths to hide their giggles. Lacy's the one to pipe up. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Percy has to act as if he didn’t know that already, raising his eyebrows as he glances at y/n, her cheeks are already tinted a pretty shade of pink. "Good things, I hope?"

"Of course" she recovers quickly, making some space for him to sit beside her on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Percy carefully steps around the circle of Aphrodite kids on the floor and plops down beside her. "Just missed you." He replies simply, already reaching for her hand.

Her siblings immediately protest. "Don't distract her! it's her turn to braid."

She laughs, setting the brush down and instead taking Percy's hand, her delicate fingers lacing with his. "Don't worry, I'll still braid everyone's hair. Percy's just here to join the fun."

He chuckles, playfully shrugging. "I've always wanted to learn how to braid, I guess"

Her siblings break into laughter, and y/n rolls her eyes affectionately. That's how Percy ends up being instructed by a bunch of Aphrodite children on how to make a perfect braid while he listens to their chatter, laughing as they share stories with him.

Every now and then, y/n sneaks a glance at him, her eyes soft with affection and he remembers what he overheard. He will never forget it. But everytime she looks at him, he knows she wasn't lying just by the love he's able to see in her eyes.

Later, when everyone is happy with their braids and every story they could think about has been told, they start to drift away to their different sides of the cabin and Percy finds his perfect opportunity to mention what he overheard. He can't keep it to himself any longer.

"For the record." He starts, tugging her closer to him. "I can't picture myself marrying anyone else either."

Her breath catches and her face turns crimson. She immediately hides her face against his chest. "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Percy laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "Just let me take care of the proposal, yeah?"

She's utterly embarrased, but she finally laughs, swatting his chest lightly as she mumbles. "Deal"

They settle back into each other’s arms, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as they think about how lucky they are to have each other. Next time, when her siblings gather around her bed asking questions, she’ll have some news to share with them.

[staryuee]

HOW THEY REACT TO YOUR SILENT TREATMENT.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread … sigh

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you and your partner are having a “cooling down period”, a time of détente, after a recent argument. how do they deal with the lack of love from you?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, eula, wanderer, ayato, gorou, tartaglia, lyney, wriothesley, neuvillette, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . as a psychology student ☝️🤓 i can safely say that the silent treatment is usually frowned upon due to its connotations with emotional abuse, therefore i tried my best to make it apparent that this sort of silence is within the boundaries of the relationship ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ ) please communicate with your loved ones if you feel a certain way :)

you and your beloved recently had a pretty bad argument. out of respect for both of your feelings you both decided to have a period of détente to allow a gradual recovery of your emotions and logical reasonings.

there was no need to argue, and there was also no need to be hostile or petty; therefore your silent treatment wasn’t a way to maliciously gain control or make your lover come running back to you, it was a way for both of you to regain composure and come back to the topic when prepared.

that did unfortunately, lead to much less affectionate gestures from both of you. of course there was still the casual “i love you” every morning and night accompanied by a simple kiss, but it never went anything beyond that.

while your lover fully knew why this sort of peaceful coexistence was necessary, sometimes it’s sincerely difficult to not just reach out and kiss you breathless.

you’re so close yet so far, it’s unbearable.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

master diluc has been rather restless lately.

constant muttering to himself, plucking the dried up skin that stuck out from his badly bitten lips, his gloved hands constantly scratching a non existent scratch; honestly, if the fellow residents of dawn winery didn’t know any better they’d think he was possessed and required an immediate exorcist.

adelinde refuses to see her precious baby sink his eyes into ruin purely because he’s out secretly patrolling once he wakes up in the middle of the night to clear his head. you’re always there with him throughout the night: but why does it still feel so empty regardless?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST ?

diluc is no pushover or people pleaser; if you were guilty, then you’re guilty and he’ll wait all the time in the world till you eventually own up and apologise (please let that come sooner or later though otherwise he’ll give into ruin and sip alcohol for a breather). otherwise, if its his fault, or no ones and it was a mere misunderstanding, the silent treatment lasts for a day. not any longer not any less; he doesn’t allow it to.

he’s more than happy to wait forever for you but gods if he ever made a mistake that accidentally led you to elongating this supposed transient silence till the end of time, diluc would much rather swallow his pride and give his all to you. you’re worth more than pettiness, and he’ll prove that to you once you wake up and get greeted with all your favourite luxuries and a bright, relieved smile on his face.

EULA — 优菈

you’re beyond delusion if you think this woman won’t turn this into a healthy-ish competition of sorts.

you wish to avoid her for days on end? she’s already used to the world avoiding her mere gaze, she can withstand the somber feeling of having the one person who’s fully understood her as the complex person she is self-isolating from her for a little while.

never mind, no, she literally can’t. come back to her right now. we have problem right? lets talk about it, isn’t that what you taught her in the first place? what do you mean you need a break and want to clear your head for a while to not hurt her feelings? you think eula of all people cares about something like that?

she’d rather you spit at her than withstand another hour of this mindless nonsense.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

she doesn’t apologise unless she sees whatever caused this perilous argument in the first place truly hurt you and you ended up in tears; otherwise whats the use in pointless words when you can easily hug it out and call it a day?

she lets you apologise under the guise of “if you don’t, my vengeance towards you will be greater than my foes”, but in reality? eula is hardly paying any attention to the words slipping past your lips. all she’s thinking about is how she’ll be able to shake off this uneasy tension that’s somehow been created between you two.

WANDERER — 流浪者

you can’t tell which one of you needed this little breather more, after all, you’d hope scara would allow himself to soften after distancing from you after a while, and scara hoped you’d see reason within your argument and eventually, as always, forgive him.

but forgiveness is a two way straight in the way most people subconsciously ignore; does he and could he ever forgive himself? that image of your teary eyed face, the harsh puffs of breath you heaved to prevent any more molten venom to burn his plastic skin, the slight clenching of your jaw, fuck it hurt.

he couldn’t admit it at the time, but right now after being forcefully peeled away from you for about week and forcing auntie nahida to listen to his venting rambles? he wished he just gave it all up and did something: anything at all. kissed you, hugged you, consoled you, swiped your tears away with his thumbs, fluttered his eyelashes on your cheek gently as he whispered an i love you.

yet all he could do right now was wait.

wait until you hopefully came back, he couldn’t face you. if you abandoned him he’d deal with it. the petals on the floor and the hushed whispers of “they love me, they love me not” are just hallucinations from his worried caregiver, he swears.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

never would he stoop so low as to apologise.

verbally. that is. if he’s aware that he’s in the wrong (believe me that look on your face does wonders for trying to figure out whats on your mind) he’ll begrudgingly come up with some covert way of making it up to you. he doesn’t want to be stuck in this immortalised silence forever; believe me, he likes your talking more than he realises and this little test trial of abandonment was more than enough proof that your existence within his life is essential.

if you’re not there standing by his side, what even is the point in that fraudulent pacemaker of his? your laughter is in the same shape of his heartbeat; if you’re not here, he’s just back to being that dumb little puppet cuddled ashore in the slim darkness of the night.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

bile builds up in ayato’s throat, eyes threatening to spill hazardous tears on his paperwork. he HATES being away from you. yes, you’ll be back comfortably in his arms with a kiss on your forehead soon…but time isn’t making that “soon” come any quicker and it’s killing him.

‘silence’ is only the act of not speaking, right? so he’s technically allowed to sneak in pastries onto your desk when you’ve gone to take a break — he’s also most certainly allowed to write down his frustrations about not being able to be overly affectionate with you and then pitifully sliding them under your door in hopes you’ll read them and maybe write one back.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

he desperately tries to convince himself that if he works long enough, he’ll forget the hollowing feeling in his heart that’s left in the silhouette of you. he puts down his calligraphy pen with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples with rough motions as if to completely rid himself of any lingering thought of you.

that’ll never work, and ayato thinks you two have calmed down enough so therefore he trudged his way into your room, knocking of course, and sat down with you for a lengthy but beneficial conversation.

without a doubt, ayato will be the one to apologise first. whether it’s a conscious decision or not completely depends on how long he’s been away from you; at some point you just fall back into regular routine completely by accident.

GOROU — 五郎

he’s glad you’ve decided to take this sort of approach to your relationship instead of having a painful battle of the wits with him but right now, he’d withstand a thousand hours of scolding than the way his fellow soldiers worryingly clutter around their little general and ask about his well-being purely because those furry ears atop his bundle of bed hair decided to stay drooped down all week.

but he can’t help it! he’s utterly miserable! you didn’t even give him your complimentary “good morning, have fun at work, be safe” kiss before he left the door in the static quiet of your abode. to top this torture off? you haven’t pet him once, and while he’d normally revel in not being treated like an actual lap dog…you’re a huge exception in that rule!

unfortunately, it’s not like he can just outright demand attention from you merely because he’s feeling a bit down on his luck. you asked for peace, he’ll give it to you. he’s a war veteran but treats you like a flower thats sprouted on a ruined patch of sand.

ehem, but please come back to him soon. please?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

whatever it takes to get your pretty hand to ruffle through his brunette locks he’ll do, he doesn’t care if the apology consists of him kneeling down on pitifully shaking his head near your thigh with his lips puckered into a pout. shame doesn’t exist within your relationship right? he’s more than willing to apologise first regardless of who was to blame.

if the argument was a little more serious however, he’ll sit down you on your couch that holds so many sweet significant memories within your mind, his head resting atop your collarbone and tail sneakily swishing from side to side now that your heartbeat was so clear to him. he’ll hear you out, talk through it, but more importantly, love and appreciate you.

TARTAGLIA — 公子

nuh uh. you think you’re getting silence with someone like him around? unless one or both of you fucked up really bad, tartaglia can’t see the point in silent ignorance; if you want to ignore him to personally calm down? sure, do whatever you want honey, you’re still getting treated like the other piece of his heart that you are.

if you’re genuinely annoyed he can leave you alone…for maybe two hours thirty minutes max. he loves you so much, talk to him, he doesn’t care if you insult him out of anger, lash out at him if you must. so long as you return into his arms so he can sway you around within his tender embrace and pepper your face with kisses, he’ll be more than happy and satisfied.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

him all day — call it the big brother complex with having to always apologise first whenever he got into a slight squabble or disagreement with his siblings when he were younger, or call it pure unadulterated love for you and the refusal to continue with this pointless staring battles whenever you guys were sitting across from each other.

whatever it is, just know he takes your feelings seriously regardless of the teasing grin across his face when you try not to squirm from the way his hand traveled from across your waist to the slither of exposed stomach. he just wants to assure you that his love won’t ever fade even if it becomes so deliberately one sided. he’s yours, after all.

LYNEY — 林尼

he’s used to eerie silence that bellowed icy winds against his ears, used to the tension that forced out his fight or flight response, but currently all he could do was freeze and overthink. how come this silence seemed so much more deafening than usual?

lyney doesn’t want this worse than capital punishment torture to continue without at least the slightest bit of laughter mingled into both of your days; he tries his best to curve your lips to even the slightest twenty degree lift using whatever he could. silly little flower reappearing trick there, a sneaky kiss to the side of your neck here; just any fleeting desperate attempt for some reciprocation on your part.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

lyney’s used to apologising first given his experiences within the house of hearth and the father herself. so imagine his surprise when you both incidentally stammer over one another as you two splutter apologies helplessly. god he’s so happy your relationship is built open gushes of giggles instead of the splats of tears because if it weren’t for that cute little accident? lyney was sure the second you opened your lovely lips to speak he would’ve teared up.

he missed that voice telling him constant i love yous, the affectionate cradling of his face against your neck and the way you wouldn’t hesitate to hold his flushed face within your cooling hands to comfort him after a particularly stress inducing performance.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

you left the conversation with an “i love you.” so he knows that you’ll come back to him.

however, the last time he blindly trusted the comforting words of a loved one, it ended with blood on his hands and a lengthy sentence at the fortress of meropide. luckily for his heart and your own, he knows your charms and honeyed words aren’t for show and truly mean something.

wriothesley respects your boundaries and wishes to the t, he won’t speak to you like nothing at all happened but that doesn’t mean he won’t be overly cautious when it comes to your behavioural patterns. if he notices this sentence of silence is clearly taking its toll on you, he will, with no hesitation, talk everything out with you.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

depending on the argument, he’ll apologise first. if it’s rather undeniable that you were the one in the wrong however, he’ll explain his feelings thoroughly until you apologise — the standard. he doesn’t want this silence to end till the fortress of meropide overflows with primordial water so once you see multiple guards on your case more than ever, just know he’d like to talk to you.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

fontaine has been drenched in rain for the past couple of days. every hour, every minute, every second neuvillette spends alone in his office makes him realise just how grand and solemn it is. everything is so mundane and banal…even the cheerful mutters and chatters of the sweet melusines couldn’t bring a smile to his face — much to the dismay of the little sigewinne who even so kindly brought him a cake to cheer him up…

what makes it even worse is that everything reminds him of you…and oh god the muddied clouds have once again been cursed with rain. this unquenchable thirst for your presence cannot be ignored by a mere sip from his intricate cup and being the ever so carefully mindful iudex, neuvillette sees it more than fit to call this hopeless game of silence to quits.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

regardless of who’s in the wrong, neuvillette apologises first. he’s sorry for letting this go so far, he should’ve just trusted his gut and returned to your side even if it meant having to persuade you with his clever tongue or the coiling of his draconic tail around your leg to pull you sweetly closer.

honestly, if he could, he’d make this a punishment in the fortress of meropide for every couple. you committed a petty, technically non offensive crime? well instead of doing some charity work for the city, you’re not allowed by the side of your beloved for a few weeks.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

a bunny within the jaws of a spring locked beast thinking it can persuade the tides in their favour with silence? arlecchino is amused you’d think such cheap tomfoolery would work to solve through your problems.

“darling, come here,” she taps her lap with her blood-stained nail, her eyes looking up at you greedily to soak up every single jitter of your movements as you alas fall onto your rightful throne, “my dumb bunny,” arlecchino coos at you with that devilishly low hum of her voice. “do you think the phrases ignorance is bliss, distance brings fondness, truly work within our relationship?”

arlecchino painfully grasps at your waist, that grip only loosening once you comfortably situate yourself on her thighs and lace your arms around her neck per routine. “i’d expect this behaviour from my children at the house of hearth, not you, angel.” she nibbles on your earlobe deliberately, forcing your lips to part just the way she likes. that perfect look of both surprise and desire; it’s a gorgeous display of your vulnerability.

“explain to me your problems, or else we can be at this forever.”

no such thing as the silent treatment when the very epitome of a wordless shadow has betrothed you.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[dark-konohagakure2]

Could I request a Gaara X reader. Please

He sees her admiring his tattoo while at a neighbouring village, decides that noone will mind him taking her home with him. Gives her a matching tattoo somewhere on her body only he'll be able to see.

tw: dub/noncon, kidnapping, scarification, womb marking, possessiveness, power imbalance, breeding, obsession, abuse of power

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara is somewhat insecure about his kanji shaped scar, having had it since he was a young boy, and he's never once been complimented on it, only pitied and mocked. So when he's visiting a small village on official business and a very cute villager girl expresses her admiration of his 'tattoo', it awakens something within Gaara.

Gaara is the Kazekage, and a respected one at that, so surely this tiny village wouldn't mind him taking a little souvenir with him, so that's exactly what he does. The red haired Sand shinobi feels a sense of contentment as he makes his way back home with his prize tucked snugly underneath his arm.

Despite his unconventional means of acquiring her, Gaara treats her rather kindly, doting on her and not letting her leave his side, and nobody bats an eye at the fact that the Kazekage suddenly has a woman they've never seen before at his side at all times. Gaara thinks it's fate, she complimented his biggest blemish, the mark of 'love' on his forehead, and he wants to give her one to match.

Gaara already knows exactly where he wants to leave his mark on her. He won't do it anywhere too visible, he wants it to be somewhere only he can see, so that it's a special secret just between the two of them, although it will hurt quite a bit.

"This mark means 'love', something very important to me... I'll give you the same mark right here, on your most precious spot, then we'll be bound together by our love forever... It only hurts for a moment..."

He'll use his sand to leave the kanji shaped scar just above her pussy and directly over her womb, marking her precious womb as his property and his alone. Gaara will even gently hold her hand in a comforting manner until the pain and her tears subside, although it doesn't take long before he finds himself getting a bit excited.

Now that he's marked her womb, he wants to fill it as well, claiming her body both inside and out. He needs an heir anyway, and he can't think of anyone more qualified to be the mother of his children then such a sweet and perfect girl who was able to see the beauty in something as nasty as a scar.

Gaara will be gentle despite the fact that he's practically forcing himself upon her, easing his cock in and out of her tight pussy, his face buried in the crook of her neck and he pants heavily and murmurs words of praise and love to her, his hips firmly yet gently grinding against her own.

This will go on for a very long time, taking hours until he's completely sure that he's thoroughly bred her full of his offspring before he finally pulls out of her, leaving her pussy leaking with his semen as he looks down at her with a gentle smile, a rare expression from the usually stoic Kazekage.

"Th-There... You did a great job, my love... I'm sure our children will be just as sweet and caring as their mother..."

Gaara is glad that he has found what he believes to be true love at long last after so much yearning for love, and he's not going to let her go anytime soon, and if she does get away, he wouldn't mind giving her another mark, just somewhere much more noticeable.

[willowed-wisp]

könig as a dad (part three)[ könig ]

part one | part two

AGES 10 - 14:

- These are what he dreaded the most. Where kids think they’re smartasses and get addicted to video games and other sources…

- But he’s presently surprised when your two sons are very polite in supermarkets.

- They’re tall and more mature women ask for them to get things from the higher shelves- he was a proud dad that day.

- There’s definitely a rivalry between the boys but a friendly one.

- They walk your daughter home everyday that König is away

- I think at this stage, König asks for more of a strategic position which means he doesn’t go into the field.

- And you thought you’d never see that day, not complaining that he was at home. The most he was at work in the city was half a day, returning to your bed and trying to make another baby (you swear he still has baby fever)

- Friends of the boys don’t believe the age difference between you and your husband, because somehow König still has a slight baby face… he looked in his late twenties when you met him (he was about late thirties) and you were in your mid-twenties.

- Your daughter says to her dad, “I want what you and mumma have,”

- “And what’s that? Three little ones?” He tickled under her chin, he cherished that smile every day of his life.

- “No… how you look at each other… love…”

- He is NOT open to the idea of her getting a partner- whoever they turn out to be- he doesn’t want his little mouse to grow up.

- Your boys are on the rugby team and your girl does cross-country and long distance running

- All physical capability taken from König, unless you’ve done sports in the past- then you bicker over who’s responsible

- He definitely enrolls the boys in martial arts…

- Then your daughter begs him to go, she wipes the floor with her brothers.

- Teaches all of your kids carpentry, and your eldest absolutely gels with it. It’s like second nature to him.

AGE 15-19

- No boys in the house, that’s König’s rule, you stand by it in some respects especially when she gets older.

- However, “Wouldn’t you have her talk to you about people rather than going behind our backs?”

- He contemplates the idea, “She is my little mouse…”

- “Little mouse is becoming big mouse, König… don’t push her away by being papa mouse…”

- The next day on the way to her track and field training, she turns to you, “What did you say to dad? He’s been going on about little mice and ‘little mice don’t push away papa mice…”

- You’re confused to say the least, “But he also said that I can have people round the house- as long as my doors open,” That sounded strange and unlike your husband.

- “That’s good… did he say anything else?”

- “He’s been asking me names and addresses…”

- Ahhh…

- “Don’t give him last names or addresses, honey…” You looked at her, face dreaded with guilt. “You already told him, didn’t you?”

- You turn the car around after dropping her off. And find König staking out a 16 year old’s house, “Sweetheart… what are you doing here?”

- “Don’t play innocent with me… we’re going home. No more of… THIS…”

- He did stop, but still did background checks… he’s allowed to do those (his own logic)

- Your daughter only brought a girl home, they would study and bake with each other in the kitchen.

- “It’s nice she has a friend…” Your husband was so clueless.

- His eldest son raised an eyebrow, knowing the truth… “Talk to her, dad…”

- That night when it was just the family, your little girl came out to König. She was crying, terrified that he wouldn’t accept it- being a bit older than her friends’ dads.

- But all he did was bring her into a bear hug, like her brothers had when she came out to them. König really didn’t care what she identified as, as long as she was happy… he’d be happy.

- As for your sons, König doesn’t want either joining the military. Luckily for him, neither does.

- Your youngest wants to go into teaching, and your eldest wants to become an engineer- taking on his dad’s numerical intelligence.

- He was much more relaxed when it came to dating for the boys. You had the talks with them, much too awkward for König to do himself.

- Your youngest son would become a father at 19… fully supported by you two.

- Part of König is glad he has a grandchild while he’s under a certain age and can run around. Treats the grandkids like his own children.

- Maybe make them cry unintentionally but that wears off.

König is so proud of the family you and him founded on a whim after being together only a year after you met.

————

masterlist

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: The things Sylus is afraid of and the one thing he isn't. Despite everything, it's still you.

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Author's note: A little headcannon of sorts. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Sylus is afraid of you. He understands better than anyone the effect that you have on him. If others think he is smitten, then he will say that he is devoted. No one is able to comprehend the yearning for your touch or the love that he harbours for you. It feels like sin devouring him whole; clawing its way through his heart and into his throat. Worship threatens to spill, his vessel not nearly enough to be capable of containing it. But he keeps silent, lest the overflow scares you away again.

Sylus fears that you might leave him. He can tell that you are still wary of him, and he cannot fault you for it. After all, was he not the very reason you are still this guarded? The nature of him— of his environment— makes him observant. He sees apprehension in your eyes and how it causes your body to tense, locked by your bones. Watches patiently when your voice trembles, when you hesitate to choose. And because he has already mastered being attuned to you, he simply waits.

He doesn't doubt that you will choose him. You have done so before, and you will do so again. He is still your Sylus, your quite literal soulmate. For you, he will have the patience of a saint.

Occasionally, you catch him in a disheveled state.

“Do you know what a mirror is?” Sarcasm rolls off your tongue— second nature. But your hands are gentler, more honest. You card a hand through his hair, sweeping his silky locks into place.

He only gives you a half-hearted smirk. Cocky thing. Sylus chalks it up to knowing that he's good-looking, reflections be damned for it will never do him justice. Yet that's not the case. He doesn't tell you about how that shopkeeper's words linger in his mind. And since then, Sylus tends to avoid mirrors. He knows that he is being irrational; he does not appear as a Fiend in this life. But how could he look at himself knowing that you were or might still be disgusted by him?

“On a subconscious level, she's either rejecting you, scared of you, or... Disgusted by you.”

Above all, Sylus is terrified that he will lose you without choice. Yes, you can leave him, ask him to not pester you anymore. And he will respect your decisions. He will fulfill your desires, as he always has, even if it means to tear him apart. But he cannot fathom the idea of your life lost to tragedy and mocked by whatever gods care to gaze upon you both. He defied fate before and he continues to do so all for you. By any means necessary, he will give you the life you demanded all those lifetimes ago.

The only thing that Sylus does not fear is death. He will jeopardize himself, put his body on the line because he cannot die. You made sure that he couldn't, so why not use that to his advantage? Excruciating pain is a price he is willing to pay for the comfort that he will die by your hands. This one solace, can grant him this mercy. Is it not comforting, to know that the only fate he cannot defy is his beloved's loving hands torment?