#very much his loss. but then why am *i* the one left feeling so hurt and tossed aside

[drunkardsprayer]

i’m so sad i wish i could just stop being sad and aching

[littlemisssatanist]

Hitlist

the jackal x fem reader

~ i am a whore for eddie redmayne so you should thank his face for being so gorgeous

~ this is 2k words of poorly written and unedited smut. if you see typos,,, no you didnt.

~ i need his face in my chest thats like the only reason i wrote this

~ ty for everyones lovely comments on the last part!

~ look at my art of my beautiful husband who is too old for me

~ BEFORE I FORGET. i have a longfic idea for this sorta universe,,, a mr and mrs smith type of situation crossover w sherlock bbc as a case fic. what do we think

part one | part two

You lead him back to a hotel room. Your hotel room, though not for much longer. The people who had hired you paid for everything, and once they heard you had betrayed them, they would eventually be able to track you down. The faster you left, the better.

The Jackal kept you in his sight the entire time, staring into the back of your head as if he was trying to cut a hole right through it.

It’s not like I would have hurt him anyways, you thought mulishly, poking your tongue into your cheek, troubled. Your mind had already been made up before you had even stepped into the room.

You could never hurt him.

As you walked into the room, he stalked past you and started examining everything, keeping an eye on you all the same.

“It’s clean,” you offered, but he only shot you a side glance, not bothering to acknowledge you had said anything. You worked hard to keep yourself from letting the hurt show on your face.

Instead, you ask: “Married?” 

Trying to lighten the mood, you couldn’t help but notice the ring on his finger. By the way his face tightened, you knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Divorced,” he muttered. “You?” he added, as an afterthought.

“No,” you shook your head. You had thought about it once, a long time ago, but it never worked out. You simply could not stop thinking about him.

The Jackal sat down next to you on the bed, done with his search. He was close, closer than you would imagine comfortable. This close, you could see every freckle and mark on his face.

You are definitely not complaining.

“Her loss,” you whispered. At his questioning glance, you clarified: “Your wife.”

The tips of his fingers brushed over yours and you shivered.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, it was my fault. She deserved better than me.”

His eyes flickered shut as he leaned in closer. You could feel his breath on your face.

“Probably,” you agreed, tilting your head away to admire the earlier hickey you had left. He blinked a couple of times, confused by the sudden distance you had put between them. Then you pressed your hand into the purple mark, and he hissed and pulled away. 

He went to lean against the headboard and you followed him, climbing into his lap. His hands immediately found your waist even as he tried to push you away.

Instead, you only pressed his hips against his, hands caging him in on either side of the headboard.

“Come on, J,” you crooned. “Don’t you miss this?”

“You tried to kill me!” He snapped. “Forgive me if I’m not so forthcoming.”

You frowned. “You were literally all up in my business not even five seconds ago. Besides, if I wanted you dead, then I wouldn’t have announced my presence,” you cupped his cheek as gently as possible. You couldn’t stop looking at his freckles. “I was never going to kill you.”

He paused, eyes threatening to flutter shut at your touch. Then he pushed you away again, seemingly remembering why he was mad at you. “Then why did you take the job in the first place?”

You resisted, pressing your forehead against his. “I was trying to protect you,” you said mockingly slowly, as if trying to make him understand something very simple. His cheeks reddened with humiliation and anger. “I knew that taking the job would give you some time. And the only reason I threatened you was because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

The end of your words turned into a soft whine, and you nosed his face into his. Your thumb pressed past his lips and into his mouth, gagging him. His tongue immediately met your thumb, swirling around it on instinct. You moaned, kissing the edges of his mouth.

“Get off,” he managed to mumble through his make-shift gag, saliva dripping past his chin.

“Alexander,” you murmured. “Look at me.”

His name, his real name, snapped him out of the lustful haze your actions had put him into. It had been so long, how had you even remembered that? He should have never told you.

He pushed you away and you finally relented, letting him throw you back onto the mattress and climb on top of you.

“Fuck you,” he said, before swooping down and capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was hot and searing, and you could feel his large hands feeling up your body.

“That’s the idea, J,” you mumbled into his mouth, running your own hands up his back and tugging on his shirt. You needed him naked. Now.

He pulled away, biting your bottom lip as he went, tugging his shirt above his head. You watched from beneath him, admiring the ways his abs flexed before he dropped his hands and caged you in between them.

“You look nice,” you breathed, your hands creeping up his chest. “Ah… I remember this. But the background was different. Ah-!”

J buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting down harshly onto the soft skin there. At the same time, his hand slipped down your pants and underneath your panties, finding the growing wetness between the apex of your thighs.

“It… it was something like,” you sighed as he slipped two fingers inside, “a desert scene? R-remember that, J? Fuck!”

He curled the fingers inside you, his free hand making a large bruise the way it pressed into your waist so tightly. He kissed up your neck and jaw and eventually found your mouth, muffling the words that couldn’t help but spill out.

He remembered it too. The Al-Qaeda operation, the wedding party, the car bomb. You had been a junior sniper working with his team, and he could not help but notice the way your quiet gaze kept falling on him. You met him in his room that night, slipping past the door silently. You weren’t so quiet then, and you weren’t so quiet now.

When he killed the rest of his team, he let you live.

Maybe it was a mistake to do that. But the way the moans kept falling from your mouth, he wasn’t in any position to regret his decision. His thumb pushed at your clit, circling it faster as your voice grew to a higher pitch, as moans and gasps filled the air quicker. He swallowed your sounds as they came out, not letting you get in any air.

The hand holding your waist came to rest at your neck. It was so thin, so easy to just wrap his fingers around it and choke the life out of you. He began to apply pressure, just the tiniest bit, but the way your breath hitched, he knew that you knew the power he had right now.

Your chest heaved up and down against his. Dimly he realized that he had neglected to take off your blouse and bra.

He pulled away slightly, continuing his circular movements on your clit. A thin strand of saliva connected your mouths, and he broke it with a soft flick of his tongue. The hand on your neck tightened, and you released a strangled groan. 

You were vulnerable. Completely at his mercy.

But you found that you didn’t mind. You wanted it. A relationship with him, one in which you could trust that he wouldn’t hurt you, the same way you could never bring yourself to hurt him. 

The pressure on your neck furthered, and your hands instinctively went to his wrist, gripping it tightly. He stared into your eyes. You could feel the wave of pleasure in your stomach growing, legs twitching subconsciously, tightening around the hand in between your thighs.

“P-please…” you managed to choke out, arching your back and rolling your eyes as the pleasure passed the precipice and washed over, stringing your body taut before allowing it to collapse into what felt like a melting puddle.

His hand left your neck, brushing over the dark bruise he had left behind. Something in him felt vindicated, glad to have caused you pain. He kissed the deepest part of the bruise, smiling against your skin as you inhaled sharply at the touch. 

You bring your hands to brush through his hair, gripping it tightly to pull him away from your neck, half heartedly throwing him away. He rolled off, groaning, painfully hard.

“Give me a moment,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. Wow. “Fuck.”

“Good?” He asked.

You nodded, before realizing he probably couldn’t see it. You let your hand find his instead, squeezing it. He sighed.

“I need to go take a cold shower,” He said, moving to get up.

By some miraculous show of strength, you managed to sit up before him and pressed your hand against his abdomen, shoving him back down.

“No. We’re not done yet.”

He stared at you as you swung your leg over his lap, hovering above him. His face was still flushed red, making his dark freckles stand out against his skin. His eyes flicked from between your face to where his erection made a tent in his pants.

“Ok,” he muttered. “Take off your shirt.”

You obeyed immediately, fingers thumbing to undo the buttons on your blouse. The Jackal watched you hungrily, hands coming back to hold onto your waist. They were burning hot against your now bare skin, moving up your spine to unclip your bra and let your breasts free.

He cupped them; the heat making you gasp as you worked to take off your pants. You managed to get them to hang at your knees, finally sitting down on his lap and pressing against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips pressing upwards.

You circled your hips, mouth falling open at the stimulation to your clit. It was still overly sensitive from his fingers earlier, and the roughness of his jeans did nothing to help soothe it.

“I need your cock in me,” you moaned. “Please.”

The Jackal let out a strangled sound at your words, managing to sit up and push down his pants. His cock sprang free, nudging against your soaking wet panties. You grinded against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his back muscles.

He pulled at the band of your panties, allowing them to snap back against your skin. One of your hands finds itself back in his hair, pushing his face into your chest. You can feel him grinning, a low laugh rumbling from his throat.

Finally, finally, he lined up his cock with your pussy and pushed inside. Your mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ at the feeling of complete fullness. He was burning you up from the inside.

He pressed kisses to your bare skin, face still buried in your chest as he kept his hips moving against yours. Pleasure began to build up in you once more, and you knew by the soft grunts and moans that fell out of the Jackal's mouth, he was close too. 

“Inside,” you whimpered, clutching onto him so tightly you wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't ever be able to separate from you. “P-please.”

You raised your hips, his cock slipping out completely, before slamming back down. Your lips met, more clashing teeth than a kiss. His tongue consumed the inside of your mouth, stealing away your breath as you came once more.

Still riding the high, you had enough sense to realize he had also come, just seconds after you, cum filling you and dripping out slightly. 

You swayed slightly, and the both of you fell to the side, his cock still inside you.

Your chest fell up and down. The Jackal shifted closer towards you, placing his head back in the valley of your breasts. Your hand immediately comes to his hair to keep them there.

The two of you lay like that for a while, before you groaned.

“We need to go,” you muttered.

The Jackal mumbled something you couldn't hear. You begin to get up, but he doesn't move, the heavy weight forcing you to flop back down. 

“J,” you patted his back.

“... give me five minutes.”

You sighed. “Yeah, ok.”

part one | part two

tags: (for those who commented they wanted a second part (if you didnt want to be tagged,,, uh lmk) @affective-disorder @simp-ly-writes @freya260

[wellofdean]

I've been reading lots of commentary on my dash about Dean's apology to Cas in The Trap that is, in a sense, re-litigating who is most to blame for their rupture, and who should be apologising.

On the one side, Cas, whose drive to protect and save the ones he loves leads him to go it alone and keep vital information from them, and on the other, Dean, whose anger, however justified, makes him cold, hard and uncompromising. Cas, who left, or Dean, who didn't ask him to stay. And, I think: can't they both be in error and standing in need of compassion? Is love a thing to be earned and deserved, or is it like grace, which is free and unmerited and complete forgiveness?

For me, these are two characters who are under tremendous pressure and in repeated dire circumstances, and who have given each other that kind of grace over and over and over again for years, and who have chosen each other every time a choice was there to be made. In the The Rupture, Dean is too angry to make talking about it viable (and I am not blaming him, he has his perfectly valid reasons! But, that's a fact) and Cas is too offended, hurt, and too proud to stay and bear Dean's anger, so he leaves.

A few episodes later, in Golden Time, Cas is told Chuck is back and is reminded of what they are fighting for, and who they are fighting against, and realises that his place is in that fight, at their side, whatever Dean's feelings, and that he has to go back. But, the tension remains -- Dean is angry, Cas is aloof. They go to hell. Rowena says "fix it" and reminds them that they don't have time to waste on grievances, and then Michael says "Since when do we get what we deserve?" And looks them both in the eye. Then, they go to Purgatory.

What happens in The Trap, for me, is that Dean, thinking he has lost Cas, looks into his own heart knows that his anger kept them apart, and he gives Cas grace and forgivenes, because he loves Cas too much not to and it doesn't matter if Dean has a right to his anger, or what anyone deserves, because the apology is to satisfy his own soul, and his own need to be better. I don't think it matters who is right and who is wrong. I think they are both right, and they are both wrong. Cas did apologise, and Dean was too angry to let him, Cas coming back to bear that anger and help is a capitulation and an effort to do what is right.

I love that Dean forgives Cas before Cas can earn it with his 'win', and don't think it's a matter of anyone deserving anything. Dean's very nature is love and goodness, and the constant striving to act on it; his anger works against those things. There is no basis for them to talk about what ails them if he can't let it go. Dean knows it's doing him damage, and he apologises for it. His conscience demands it, and grace cannot be a thing that is owed.

I love that scene, I love that Jensen acts his heart out in that scene, and I think that scene is about Dean's heart, and not about anyone's culpability. Both of them are so broken down by their losses and have such brutal histories of trauma, and that's why they are both falling back on habits that don't serve them. Cas came back, Dean gave up his anger. Do the problems still exist? Absolutely. But nothing is served by being apart and angry.

[for-those-who-wait]

it hurts me to ask this, but how would blorbo!Hunter respond to the death of flapjack…

Blorbo Hunter has cat brain where he doesn't really have a complex thought process (there's another ask about this in my inbox that I'll answer once I doodle some more, I'll try to go more in-depth about it then) so I think it would be that situation where one of your pets passes and the other is confused about why their buddy isn't around anymore and why their owner is suddenly very sad

I would really like to make a comic about it but it would take a while and my brain is mush so, taking crack seriously, I think it would happen like this (very limited memory of what happens in the beginning of For the Future):

Blorbo Hunter is probably in somebody's pocket or bag for the whole altercation with Belos in Thanks to Them, so he didn't actually witness anything. Everyone is very torn up about it after they go through the portal, the blorbo is a little confused about why Hunter looks sad and weird, but he's just kind of chilling. Hunter can't really stand to look at the blorbo for a bit (something about anxiety about loss and wanting to distance himself emotionally as a coping mechanism) so he passes him off to Luz and the gang to watch over while he broods in the corner at the Owl House like normal. Blorbo Hunter is just hanging out, he's kind of wondering what's up since I think Flapjack would be as constant a presence for blorbo Hunter as he is for regular Hunter and he's similarly not used to not having that presence nearby. They are friends, they love each other, and he wants to know where his friend is!

I think blorbo Hunter has a little bit of a signal thing going where he'll make little gestures about things he wants (he just learned that Flapjack is more likely to interact with him if he opens his arms like he wants a hug, and he kept doing it). So the gang is familiar by now that when he splays his little arms out, he's referencing Flapjack. And he doesn't actually do that until they're all calming down, slowly trying to fall asleep at the Owl House, and he finally wriggles away to find Hunter (because he follows him absolutely freaking everywhere and he might as well have a natural homing beacon for that boy)

Hunter's not really trying to sleep, he's been Irreparably Traumatized, and blorbo Hunter climbs onto him and splays his arms out like "Where's Flapjack?" since Hunter usually knows where he is, and blorbo Hunter has associated Hunter with Flapjack appearing. Hunter isn't even sure if he should respond to that, because he knows by now that the blorbo just can't really understand the concept of loss like that. Hunter's probably tearing up a bit by now because of all the stress and emotions he's shoving down, and now he's got this innocent little thing looking up at him for guidance that he feels he's incapable of providing because Flapjack, the one thing the blorbo is asking for, is gone in a way that Hunter can't explain and the blorbo can't understand.

Blorbo Hunter, ever the cat, at least recognizes that Hunter's upset. The blorbo climbs up onto his chest, probably lays right up against his chin, and just sits there for the sake of closeness and an attempt at comfort. And for his part, I think Hunter would just grieve a lot about it because Flapjack was probably there to help him process even accepting blorbo Hunter in the first place (I think Flapjack would immediately love the blorbo and would have to spend a long time convincing Hunter to give him a chance as well), and now he's left with the guilt of having initially disliked the blorbo and also killing his friend. Like "I killed Flapjack with the hand that I am currently using to try and comfort this weird clone-cat-creature he was friends with, I'm so incredibly messed up and terrible for this."

This child can fit so much trauma and self-hatred in him holy crap

ANYWAY sorry for the ramble, hopefully that answers the question, thank you for asking it :))

[devine-fem]

I know a lot of people don’t read for Ra’s Al Ghul and understand because it is hard to find good characterization and solos for him period but if you need a reference here’s the complexity of Ra’s Al Ghul’s character, especially if you wish to write him.

Let’s extablish this: Ra’s Al Ghul is evil. He is a villian but not purposeless, he has motivations, ideations, as to why he does what he does. The Demon’s Head is a philosophy after all.

In the comic I’m going to talk about frequently, Ra’s aims to topple empires built upon the betterment of humans but to the destruction of animal health, habitation, ecosystem, and people who are a threat to the Earth itself, he then makes sure the next person who takes this Empire aims to either shut it down or improve it in a way that no longer allows said empire benefit from malicious means.

Batman: One Bad Day explains Ra’s Al Ghuls youth and loss of his home and family at the face of a siege, with nowhere to go and no protection, he was left defenseless until he was protected by the wolves in the wilderness which led him to believe that the forest itself protected him. This is why I have a hard time hating Ra’s personally, I could never hate someone who’s gone through every catastrophic event of our ancestory, I imagine he’s victim to a lot of historical tragedy and any attempts to find happiness in a pure, authentic way probably was snatched from him. He’s likely seen the worst of society and I couldn’t hate him for that.

It’s important to note that Ra’s Al Ghul can love within centuries of his life, then he can be abusive.

He believes all life to be just as worthy and precious as another. He believes all life is worth being saved though after all the hell that humans has put the Earth and it’s children through he has grown bitter and angry. He’s experienced the pit madness over and over, it’s likely simply a part of who he is.

Over spending hundreds of years alive, so much grief and death every single year for centries, he’s become traumatized. Now he attempts to save humanity from itself because of one bad day.

Ra’s Al Ghul has even said that Jason Todd’s unnecessary death caused him to grieve, so much so that he sought Jason’s body out and brought him back to life.

Here is Ra’s Al Ghul breaking down and tears for having to put his pet down so he’s very much not emotionless.

Here is Damian arguing with his father over whether Ra’s Al Ghul’s ideations are correct or not. Damian’s feelings toward Ra’s are likely extremely complicated but I am sure there is more bad than good but that doesn’t mean it’s all bad.

Here is Ra’s Al Ghul telling Damian that he is proud of him and has a deep respect for him. Also note that in Birth of the Demon, Ra’s Al Ghul has said that he prefers Bruce and him to be allies instead of enemies and even considers Bruce his son.

Ra’s still wishes he could be allies with Bruce and fantasizes about fighting alongside him to this day.

Ra’s threatens Damian’s life but immediately after admits that he was just bluffing, and he would not have hurt Damian.

When Ra’s mortally wounds Bruce, he lets Damian have a moment with his father given that he’s the one who fatally wounded Bruce in the first place.

Ra’s says explicitly that he was doing what he is doing for Damian’s future. He states again that he does not believe one life is more important than the other, even humans.

I think it's very important that what Ra's does is extremely traumatizing and would not make sense to a child. He functions in a way where he thinks he is right and what he is doing comes from a place of love and compassion, including the things he does to Damian.

Whether you agree with his philosophy or not is up to you, but he truly believes he's doing what he is doing for the bettering and benefit of his family.

In conclusion, he is somewhat human, he's somewhat of a madman, he believes human life is valuable but as valuable as a healthy bird soaring through the sky, his actions come from a place of love though sometimes (often) he may be abusive. He would not kill a man without reason, he would not kill an animal without reason, he says above that he thinks killing to survive is different from killing for pleasure, he believes he's doing the same as killing to survive. And finally, he has no interest in anyone or anything that does not fullfill his role as the demon’s head.

[nackrosor]

~Warm, Soft and Alive~

Captain John Price x sergeant fem!reader

8,5 k. - Your captain comes knocking at your door in the middle of the night after the umpteenth nightmare of you dying in his arms jolts him awake.

warnings: porn with plot & feelings, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, soft dom, light power dynamics, praise kink, sleepy sex, multiple orgasms, mildly dubcon (just because you're very eepy), dry humping (except it's very wet), first time together, underlying romantic fluff, I'm not sure if this can be counted as somno but just in case I'm mentioning it.

John has seen many people die. He has witnessed a great deal of bloodshed, both among enemy's and friendly' line. He had his own soldiers fall on missions, fine men and women giving their own lives in order to save others. Some even took their last breaths in his arms. He remembers each one of them.

Everything was heightened during the early years. Every death devastated him, causing him nightmares and awful flashbacks... But as the years went by, his skin thickened and his mind grew used to the atrocities. Nothing could get through to him anymore.

Or so he thought.

He can't seem to shake off the image of you bloody and unconscious, laying in his arms as he puts pressure on the gnashing wound on your side, trying to reduce the blood loss. He can't forget the anguish he felt while looking at you in such a miserable state. How on edge he was on the frantic ride back to camp, with you falling in and back from consciousness the whole time. Those weak groans and cries of pain that left your lips still echo in his ears. He can't forget how lost he felt as the medics took your limp body from his arms and rushed to the operating room to get you under the knife. To save your life. You had lost so much blood on the way... There was a high possibility that you wouldn't... That you... He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if you did. Thankfully, you’ve always been so strong. One of his best soldiers. You perdured. You lived. You healed. Still, he can't forget a second of it all. The sight of your limp battered body sagged against him haunts his dreams to this day. Months after the event. No matter how many times he sees you strolling about the HQ, chatting with your mates, smiling and nodding at him as you pass by. Every night he has the same nightmare of you dying in his arms, and his mind is pestered by fear and doubts. What if he truly lost you? What if you didn’t make it?

Another nightmare has woken him tonight, robbing him of sleep. And at this point, he knows there will be no peace for him until he sees you breathing and standing on your feet with his own two eyes. He can't wait for the morning, for you to wake up. He needs to see you right now, lest he loses his mind entirely. 

That's why he's marching to your quarters through the dark hallways of the HQ. Pace hurried, heart aching in his chest, head still whirling from the dreadful images of your life slipping away from those pretty eyes of yours. He can't take it one second longer. His fist hits the metal surface of your door a bit harder than he intended to, but he needs you to hear him and come open the door as quickly as possible. 

You jolt awake at the sudden knock on your door. Your heavy eyes flicker to the alarm clock on the nightstand, a groan leaving your lips upon noticing the green light signaling 2:40 am.

With much effort, you turn on the lamp then drag your feet off the bed and towards the entrance, groggily swaying the door open.

"Who the fuck-" You're ready to protest and tell off whoever dares to interrupt your sleep, but the words die on your tongue when your half-closed eyes land on your captain.

One glance at your half-asleep, messy look and all the tension washes off of his body like soothing water. 

“Can I come in?” John’s voice sounds shaky, the relief of seeing you battling with the effects of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.

"Uhhh-" you look up at him, momentarily taken aback by his request, your mind still clouded by sleep. Why is your captain at your door, at such a late hour, asking to come inside your room? Perhaps you're still lost in your dreamworld. 

With a sluggish shrug, you eventually move aside and let him step inside. 

John shuts the door behind him, quietly. It is darker inside your room than out, but he can make you out in the darkness thanks to the faint yellow light coming from the abajour on your nightstand. 

His eyes trail down your body, checking you over as discreetly as possible for any signs of injury; a habit he’s taken on since that day. There’s an urge to grab your arms and hold you still so he can run his hands over you, check that you’re real and solid in front of him.

You don't notice his scrutinizing gaze as you rub your hands over your face, trying to wipe the sleepiness out of your features.

"Hm, cap?" you call out for him, your voice raspy and drowsy. One of your hands lazily tug at your thin top, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. "What happened?"

The way you pull at your clothes has John quickly sweep his gaze over the exposed skin. He’s seen you in a similar attire countless times before, but for some reason tonight this sight of you has his stomach flipping.

“Nothin’ happened. I just-“ he breaks off. John can’t admit that he’s here because he woke up from yet another nightmare of you bloody and broken, dying in his arms.

“I needed to see you.”

The words take a moment to register in your hazy mind, and when they do, you blink at him in confusion.

"Hm. Me... ? Why?" you ask him hesitantly, a slight frown taking form on your face. You shift awkwardly on your feet, your head tilting to the side as you look up at him with your doe eyes. Your fingers scratch mindlessly at an old scar on your bicep.

His eyes flicker to your arm. The sigh has his heart twisting in his chest. He knows all of your scars, old and new. And he remembers that one clearly, even more than the others. Perhaps because he wasn’t the one to patch you up that time.

John takes a step forward, closing the space between you two. It’s suddenly stifling in your room, and he’s hyper aware of how thin your top is and how much he wants to touch you. 

Your head cranes upward as he steps closer, your eyes unwavering from his face.

"...Cap?" you whisper softly, your frown deepening at his silence. You hold onto your arm with undisguised unease, warming up your bare skin with your palm.

John reaches to brush some of your messy hair away from your face. Your skin is warm beneath his palm, soothing the coldness in his chest. All those moments of seeing your lifeless body flicker in and out of his mind, and here you are. Warm and soft and very much alive.

He can’t stop himself. John brings his other hand up to lightly touch your shoulder, his fingers tracing the slope of your bare collarbone.

Your flinch of surprise to his touch is delayed, your tired eyes widening imperceptibly as they dart to his hand on your collarbone before moving back to his face.

You're not sure what's happening. Sleep still lingers in your mind, muffling your thoughts, slowing your instincts.

"John...?"

The way you say his name, all soft and quiet and surprised, has his heart giving a thump against his chest. John is aware he’s being too forward. He’s your Captain, he shouldn’t be here, this close to you. Touching your bare skin, in your room. It’s not right, it’s not proper. But after waking from those nightmares for the umpteenth time, all he wants to do is touch you. Reassure himself that you’re safe, that you’re real and here standing in front of him.

John can’t look away. In the low light of your room, your eyes still manage to stand out, full of life even when clouded by fatigue. His fingers trail from your collarbone to your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along the underside of your chin. The contact has you shivering and your eyelids fluttering. You lean into his touch on instinct, heart stuttering in your chest.

He’s suddenly reminded of many a night spent together on a cold ground, of times when you’d curl up beside him and he wrapped his arm around you and kept you warm and safe and alive. He doesn't know if you remember, if you've ever noticed, but he does remember. He craves that feeling again. 

John lets his touch wander down the side of your neck, feeling the quick beat of your pulse. Alive. Alive. Alive.

"What's the matter…?" you whisper drowsily, heavy eyes locking onto his again, your hand reaching up to wrap around his wrist.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, hear it in the groggy whisper of your words. You don’t seem to register what’s going on, not like he does. The way your hand gently wraps around his wrist causes his heart to miss a beat, a pang of possessive need filling his chest.

“Just-“ he swallows roughly, trying to control the sudden urge to push you down on the bed and cover your body with his own. “Need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your brows furrow at his words, head tilting again in confusion, your doe eyes staring deeply into his.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

That pout you make when you're confused? He finds it adorable. And you’re pouting now, staring up at him through heavy eyes, not a clue in the world about the memories or the nightmares that have been tormenting him.

John’s fingers grip your chin, holding your face steady so he can look at you. To really look at you. Your soft face, your slightly chapped lips, the dopey eyes that don’t seem to understand.

“I need to make sure,” he repeats. His voice gravelly and deep, rough in a way that even surprises himself.

You blink slowly, sluggishly, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to close them.

"Cap, I'm all in one piece." you say softly, a hint of protest in your voice. Lazily raising your arms as if to point out that you are in fact all intact, you add, "see?"

The innocent gesture has his stomach twisting. Your top rides up, baring more skin, a slice of your stomach exposed in the dark. When you drop your arms again, the movement causes the fabric to ride up even more, the top shifting along your shoulder and causing the strap to dip down, just enough to show the upper edge of your breast.

John’s eyes fix on the sight, on that sliver of smooth, naked skin. The need to run his hands all over you, feel everything and confirm you’re here, is so strong that he releases your chin and grabs at your forearms instead, fingers curling around your soft flesh.

He pulls you a little closer, until he can look down at you easier. A rough sigh leaves his lips as he gives you a slow glance over. One hand pulls your top back into place. His fingers linger on your bare skin, brushing along the strap.

"I can see that.” 

Your stomach flips at the way he grabs onto your forearms, at the way he stares down at you with such intensity. You still can't wrap your head around what's happening; it all feels like a dream, both so vivid and dazed.

With your arms restrained by his grasp, you bend your head to one side and rub the corner of your eye with your shoulder, causing the strap to drop again. This time, he does not slide it back on. 

"Then... Can I go back to sleep?" you ask him softly, quietly, a hint of plea in your voice. A yawn escapes you right after.

John’s grip on your flesh tightens at the sight of your yawn, but it’s the sound of your slight plea in your quiet voice that makes his stomach do a flip.

“Not yet,” he mutters, not sure if he’s doing it to make himself feel better or because he’s enjoying the rush of power it gives him, holding you. “Gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

A breathy groan leaves your lips at his words. Your eyes, heavy and droopy, blink lazily at him.

"What... is... it?"

John’s fingers wander down, tracing along your collarbone again and lingering at your pulse point. You’re so tired and half out of it, that you don’t even seem to realize what he’s doing. He’s having a hard time controlling the urge to pull you against him, wrap himself around you and let the feeling of you pressed against him ease the flashbacks in his mind. You’re so soft and warm beneath his hand. The fact that he’s touching you like this, that he’s touching your bare skin and you’re letting him, is making him feel drunk on power.

“Do somethin’ f’me?”

You simply nod, slowly and mindlessly, bleary eyes drooping and resting for just a moment before you return your gaze to him.

"Whatever you need, sir..." you murmur under your breath, your words garbled from weariness.

Sir.

He nearly winces at the sound of his title coming out of your sleepy mouth. It does something to him, hearing you call him that when you’re like this. Soft and malleable and so compliant in your groggy state.

John is a strong man, but that? That makes him weak. So weak that he almost pulls you flush against him right there and then, to just hold you and feel you, really feel you. His mind immediately conjures up the many things he needs from you, some of which have nothing to do with his nightmares. You’re barely even fully aware of what you’re agreeing to, how vulnerable you are right now... But he takes a deep breath in, keeping his thoughts under control, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Need you to not be so reckless in the future.”

The words are gruff, but there’s an underlying hint of worry in them. He hates how much the sight of you lying limp and wounded in his arms messed with him, screwed with his mind. So much so that he hasn't been able to get some shuteye in months. 

"Reckless?" you parrot, looking lost. Your face lazily scrunches up in a puzzled frown, your eyes dropping to slits. Your mind is too muddled to connect the dots, to realize what he's referring to. The incident that almost took your life is so far off in your thoughts, so far off in time too, that you barely remember it happening at all. The only poignant memory you're left of the event is the large but healed scar on your side.

"Reckless." John repeats, his fingers leaving your collarbone to trace along that one little faint scar on your bicep, his mind instantly reeling with images of that nasty gash on your side he tried so desperately to clog with his hands. “You could have died.”

The rough tone of his voice seems to lift some of the fog from your mind, the words 'you could have died' resonating within you. Your hand twitches, yearning to move to your face and rub your eyes again, but his hold keeps your arms still.

"But I didn't." you whisper, your voice raspy. "And it's been months since."

John's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around your arms. It's been months since it happened, and he still gets nightmares about cradling your bleeding body in his arms. Even months later, the sight of you being so close to death causes him to jolt awake with his heart hammering in his ribcage. Yes, it has been months, but for him, it happens again and again every fucking night. That moment is ever present in his mind.

“And I don’t want a repeat of it.” He says darkly. John glances down at you again, trying not to get caught up in the sight of you. “I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

You blink at him, his voice making your stomach churn. When he adopts that imposing tone of his, all you can do is nod and whisper, "Yes, sir."

John lets out a low huff out of his nose at the immediate obedience. That sense of power he’d felt earlier spikes, burning hot in his chest. 

He should back away. Let you go back to bed and get some sleep. You’re tired, you’re vulnerable and sleepy… and wearing that goddamn skimpy excuse for a top.

But instead, he hears himself saying: "Lie down... and let me see the wound." 

His order has your fuzzy mind spin. Your tired eyes widen in disbelief and confusion, seemingly regaining some focus.

"T-The scar's perfectly healed, cap. Why would you need to-"

The words stumble from your lips, groggy and tired, as you try to make sense of his demand. He can see the surprise flash in your weary eyes at his request, can feel the way you go to protest against his order. John’s grip on your upper arms tightens, his fingers pressing down into your soft flesh, shutting you up before you can finish your sentence.

“I'm not asking.” he says gruffly, his voice that low, authoritative tone that you’d usually instantly comply with. He moves even closer, making you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

“Lie down and show it to me.”

Your breath hitches at the way his grip tightens on your arms, at the way his voice drops gravely as he reaffirms his command.

You only stall for a moment, gulping, doe eyes boring into his, before you gently pull back from his hold and pad to the bed, tiredly easing yourself down onto the mattress. Your fingers roll up the hem of your top to the underside of your breasts, exposing your left side to him.

You’re disoriented and confused, mind fuzzy from sleep, but you still listen to him. You listen to his order. John’s mind is reeling as he takes in the sight of you lying on the bed. You’re obeying him so easily. So readily. And goddamnit, it’s making him feel insane. You’re following his every word like a good little soldier…

John lets his eyes rake down your form on the bed. You look so vulnerable, so soft and tired. It sparks a possessive urge in his chest. His eyes track the way your messy hair splays out on the pillow and the way your top slides up as you bare your skin to him. He follows you to the edge of the bed. His eyes keep flickering down to your stomach, to the bare skin that looks so very soft and warm and inviting.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits down beside you with one knee settled on the bed and the other leg hanging from the edge.

He knows he’s being pushy, taking advantage of you like this, he knows it. You’re half out of it and clearly confused and he’s using it to his advantage. But the nightmares are too fresh on his mind, still replaying in flashes, and you looking so damn vulnerable and soft beneath him right now has all his instincts on edge.

John's eyes hungrily devour the sight of your exposed side, his eyes falling on the soft curves and the pale, fading scar; the wound reduced to a light puckered line, but nonetheless a stark reminder of how close you came to dying. How close he came to losing you.

You lie there, silently, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him. Your breathing is slightly altered just like the pace of your heart. Even through the drowsiness, you seem to realize how odd the situation is... The effects John's presence in your room, on your bed, so close to you, have on your tired body are evident. What you can't seem to pick up on is that strange flicker passing across his gaze as he examines your scar.

You keep silent though, simply staring up at him and keeping the fabric of your top rolled up, slightly pulling up your braless breasts with your hand as well, to push them out of the way.

John's eyes follow the way your chest slightly rises and falls with your breath. He notices the way it seems to stutter as his eyes drift over you. He doesn't know what to focus on. Your messy hair sprawled over the pillow, the soft curve of your breasts just barely exposed as you lift up the fabric of your top, your bare stomach and the faded scar. His eyes keep flickering from one part of you to the other, his mind going haywire at the sight of you, vulnerable and lying in front of him like this.

His mind begins to fill up with all kinds of thoughts. Thoughts of taking your top off entirely. Seeing all of you bared to him. Feeling your soft skin against his and running his hands all over you. Feeling your warm body under his own.

No matter how much he tries to resist, he can't refrain from reaching out with his hand and let his calloused fingers graze the bare skin of your scar.

The jolt of your body and the sound of you drawing in a sharp breath has his instincts flare in warning. But you don't recoil, you just look at him with wide, hazy eyes. Your body so close and warm and tense beneath his hand. So responsive to the touch, reacting without you even meaning to.

John's hand continues to graze over the skin of your scar, his thumb rubbing over the skin slowly, gently, feeling the way your stomach flexes beneath his touch. His eyes flicker up from the pale scar to look at your face.

"Does it still hurt?”

"It-" you try to answer, but your voice comes out raspy. That forces you to take a moment to clear your throat and wet your dry lips before trying again. "It itches or tingles from time to time... but it's nothing, really." you admit in a whisper, voice still raw as if reluctant to come out. Your fingers tighten a little on the fabric of the top, keeping it still on your chest.

"I see."

John's fingers keep moving over the scar tissue. Feeling the bumps and ridges of the skin, his eyes fixated on your stomach, on how you respond to his touch. Every breath and twitch and soft gasp makes his entire body flare up. It's a struggle to keep his mind somewhat coherent.

His eyes slowly move to your hands balled into the fabric of the top, the way you're holding on just a little bit tighter. He can tell that you're conscious of the fact that you're not fully clothed and that you're feeling vulnerable. Yet, he can't keep his hand away.

"Does it hurt now?" He reiterates. His hands continue to glide across the scar, fingers slowly tracing along the soft curve of your stomach.

You meekly shake your head in response. Your neck cocked slightly to the side, allowing your gaze to drift to his hand and watch as his fingers travel over your skin, so carefully, tenderly, yet... possessive.

"It... tingles a little." you whisper, muscles flexing again under his touch.

He's intoxicated by the sight of you underneath him, and you're responding so sweetly to his touch. Vulnerable, exhausted, but oh, so soft, warm, and sensitive. It's making him lose his mind, seeing you like this. Feeling your heat against his fingers. Seeing you in that damn top barely cresting just under your breasts.

Without thinking, he shifts on the mattress, leaning down to press his lips on your scar.

You gasp sharply, body arching at the sudden contact. Your tired eyes widen and the fabric of your top falls from your hold as you plant your palms on either side of you on the mattress, slightly lifting your torso from the bed.

John is getting addicted to your noises. To the way you gasp and arch beneath his touch. It's like a sick taste of what it would be like to really have you like this. To have you writhing beneath him, moaning and gasping because of him.

His hand tightens on your stomach. He can feel the muscles flex beneath his touch, the way your body reacts on instinct to his lips on the scar. He doesn't think. He just acts. He kisses the scar again, feeling a sense of possession wash over him at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips.

You flinch again at each kiss, soft gasps falling from your lips as you stare down at him, confused, dazed...

"C-Cap...?" you hesitantly call for him, your voice barely audible, breathless. "W-what are you-"

"Shh."

His free hand comes up to rest on your side, fingers splaying across the skin and holding you in place. Holding you down. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's losing control, feeling drunk just from having you below him, reacting to his touch. Letting him do all these things... letting him take all these liberties without even fighting back.

He shouldn't be doing this. Taking advantage of you like this. But your skin is just so soft, and you're so responsive to him, and he can't stop himself. This is his medicine. His medicine against the nightmares, against the horrible memories plaguing his mind. 

Soft gasp after gasp is falling from your lips, sweet in John's ears. The sound and the sight of your body arching below him, writhing at his every touch, is driving him insane. Your fingers digging into the sheets, your body trembling and shaking in his hold, the way your chest rises and falls with your labored breaths. It's all just so damn good. A stark contrast to the sight that wakes him up every damn night. He needs to see you like this. To have you arching and writhing and gasping under him. To see you alive.

He sucks a hot, slow kiss into the sensitive skin of your abdomen, tasting the salty sweat on your skin. His fingers dig into the flesh at your side, holding you down against the bed and keeping you completely in place. His other hand drifts up slowly, tracing over the soft curve of your ribs, his fingers brushing against the bottom curve of your breast, slipping under the top.

"Oh~!"

The unexpected sensation of his rough fingers touching the delicate flesh of your breast sends your fuzzy thoughts spinning. Is this really happening? You can't think straight. And you're convinced that even without the lethargy of weariness inhibiting your judgment, you wouldn't be able to think clearly. Not with your captain kissing your tummy, cradling your breasts, and keeping you pinned to the bed. Your handsome captain… whom you secretly adore...

Your mewling gasp makes a bolt of heat shoot up his spine and all the blood in his body head straight south. The noise that escapes from your lips has his hand reflexively closing over your breast, his fingers squeezing on the warm, supple flesh. A dark, possessive part of his mind revels in the noises you're making, in the way your body shivers at his touch. In having you pinned down with his hand and mouth on your skin. No fight back, no pushing him away, no words of complaint fall from your lips as he kisses and touches and holds you down with little effort. He would pull away from you if you asked him to, he believes that strongly. He would never hurt you, even with the promise of making you feel better. But you aren't pushing him away. You are not protesting. You're not showing him any signs of objections. And it isn't only because you are worn out. He can see it in your eyes and hear it in the way you respond to his touch. You like it, you enjoy his attention. And that's enough to spur him further.

His fingers delicately caress the smooth curve of your breast, feeling the pillowy and tender flesh just beneath his fingertips. He has lost all sense of control at this point. All sense of reason. All he can think about is how soft you are, how warm and malleable beneath him, how deeply he craves to touch more of you…

He lifts his hands, tugging at the fabric of your top, revealing your chest to his gaze. He can't resist a second longer, and he pounces on your breast, attaching his lips on your hard nipple. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your expression, your glazed eyes, the way your back arches up, and your lips part to let those delicious moans escape.

A shiver of pleasure strikes your tired form. One of your hands moves spontaneously to his head, fingers threading in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, against your chest. That provokes a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. It only serves as confirmation that you’re not trying to stop him but rather holding him against you. Encouraging him, even. And he's more than inclined to indulge you.

He's lost every ounce of his restraint at this point. He can't recall why he came to your room in the first place. What was he seeking for? Just to look at you. Or perhaps he subconsciously hoped for more. Now... There is no going back from this. And all he knows is that he's going to make you feel good, make you feel alive and to engrave the sight of you, high on pleasure, into his tortured mind so that it may take the place of any other horrible memories he has of you.

"John..." you whine softly, breathlessly, your half-closed eyes peering down at him, watching as he cradles your breasts and sucks on your nipple, scratching and tickling your sensitive skin with his beard. Your entire body is ablaze, tightening from both fatigue and yearning.

Hearing the sweet quivering sound of your voice uttering his name in the quiet night has his heart thunder in his chest. He keeps his focus on your face, watching how the mist in your eyes seems to intensify. 

He pulls away from your tits with a wet sound just long enough to speak, his voice deep and rough. "Say my name again."

John's mind is slowly slipping into a haze of lust and possessiveness. He's never heard his name sound like that ever before. It's like a drug, something that hooks over his core and keeps him there, wanting to make you utter his name again and again in that pleading tone as if you were begging for more.

He can't take it any longer. Without any warning, he's pulling back from your chest and peeling his shirt off, discarding it as if it was scorching his skin. He doesn’t give you time to register one action, before he rushes onto another. Rough hands grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down in one firm and swift motion.

Your muffled mind struggles to keep up. Droopy, glazed eyes try to follow his movements, your hands idly resting on the mattress, your bare chest raising and falling heavily, mouth open and drawing each breath in quick, quivering gasps. Your newly exposed thighs press together out of instinct, attempting to give you relief from the ache in your core. You can feel the dampness of your panties as they brush against the inner flesh of your thighs. You can feel how aroused you are for him.

John's eyes immediately catch the subtle movement of your legs bending at the knee and rubbing together. And his hands don't take long to follow. He's now hunched over you, his large build dwarfing your smaller, supple body. His hand travels along the inner surface of your trembling thigh, gliding over the smooth skin till his fingers reach the edge of your underwear, then slide across the thin fabric. He can feel the heat and the wetness through the material and that’s enough to trigger a deep groan from the back of his throat, a sound that's somewhere between an exhale and a growl.

This night has gone so far off course he doubts either of you will be able to look at each other the same way after this. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is being with you, and making you feel good. He's not thinking anymore. Thinking has fled his mind. 

He pushes your legs apart, letting his hands run up your thighs towards your center, feeling your muscles tense at his touch.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” he coos, gliding his palm over the expanse of your panties, making you whimper in response, trembling in delight at the contact and his words.

His voice is low, deep, and full of praise as he looks down at you, watching intently the way your body reacts to his touch.

“My pretty girl…”

He repeats the motion, this time with a little more pressure, rubbing the flat of his palm against your clothed heat, watching with a deep, possessive pride the way your thighs shiver and twitch at his touch. He can feel the dampness leaking through the fabric, the heat and the moisture soaking into his skin.

"My reckless, pretty, pretty girl…." he says, his tone firm and territorial, with a tinge of frustration edging it.

He sweeps his hand over the small patch of fabric that covers you, pressing the heel of his palm to your swelling bundle of nerves, drawing a tight circular pattern over it while relishing the way your thighs spasm and your eyelids flutter.

"Giving me such a fright…"

The firm, unyielding pressure of the palm against you sends waves and waves of ecstasy shooting straight to your core. You attempt to speak, to ask him what he means, but only whimpers leave your lips.

He drinks in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, thighs twitching and clenching, chest rising and falling with you heavy breaths, trying to speak but unable to form coherent words. You're so desperate for him, so responsive to his touch, it's making his head spin. He wants to see more of you, he needs it to forget the nightmares. He needs you. 

He moves closer, his hand still firmly rubbing against your heat, fingers curling on the drenched fabric, as he nuzzles your neck and presses scorching, wet kisses all over your skin. His mustaches and beard tease your skin, amplifying the tingling feeling that spreads throughout your body. 

His gaze burns into yours, holding you captive as he moves his palm over your heat in slow, languid circles, watching every expression and twitch of your face from up close, taking every noise that escapes your lips as a hint, making him adjust his touches until he gets the prettiest, loudest moan from you.

"Getting yourself hurt…"

He rubs his hand even more firmly, his palm moving faster and faster, applying more and more pressure on your sensitive nub, as if to emphasize every word he is saying, but it only causes you to lose more focus on his voice.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me… to see you in danger?” he whispers, his voice deep and rough. His free hand slides under your head, to hold onto the nape of your neck. “To see you in pain?”

If you were out of your mind before, you're being totally pushed out of your body now as he takes you closer and closer to the edge. You hear him, you understand what he is saying, but you are unable to form a single thought; you lack the energy to answer or apologize.

Your whole body is buzzing like a live wire, every nerve on fire, your mind blank with primal urges. 

He's watching your face, watching your eyelids flutter with each stroke of his hand, watching your lips part and your tongue slip to moisten them, watching you shiver and writhe under him, whimpering and desperate for release.

"You give me too many damn heart attacks, you know that? Keepin’ me up every night…"

“M’sorry-” you manage to cry out, gazing up at him but battling to keep your eyes open. Your hands find his tensed arm, and cling onto it for support as you feel the knot in your belly tightening, your body arching in anticipation.

Your apology is hardly coherent. He can hear the slur in your jumbled words, feel the tremors in your frame, see your eyes struggling to stay focused, your body arching and bucking and quivering under his touch, your fingers digging into his arm as if you're trying to hold on for dear life.

“I know, doll…” he croons, lips grazing the side of your jaw, close to your ear. You can feel his warm breath fanning your skin, rising goosebumps all over it.

“You’ll be the death of me… but you’re so damn beautiful-”

You look so helpless, so lovely like this. He just wants to give you what you want. His hand grinds against you, harder but steadier, increasing the pressure in a demanding and relentless motion. His eyes keen on watching the way you wriggle and arch, the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw falls slack as he ultimately pushes you over the edge.

"That's it, doll... that's it... come for me... my sweet girl…”

Your release is a sight to behold. Your body tenses like a bowstring before you climax, your moans and gasps turning into mewls of his name with the last shred of breath in your lungs, your eyes flying wide open and rolling back in your head, your nails sinking into his arm… then your entire body goes limp. Your legs tremble and spasm beneath him as he guides you through the aftershocks. John doesn't let up, doesn't stop moving his palm, prolonging your peak until you're left spent and boneless, breathing heavily. Only then does his hand slowly come to a halt, brushing one final time over your soaked panties as he lowers his forehead on yours. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, his gaze glued to your pretty face, his fingers leisurely rubbing the back of your head. When he moves slightly to pull back and take you in, he becomes acutely aware of the strain in his bulge, struggling against the confinement of his jeans. He quickly unzips them and lets his stiff length breathe, with him drawing in a shuddering breath as well.

He chances a look at your panties, the possessive pride in him flares up at the sight; the fabric is so drenched it’s become see-through. His fingers gently move over it, his eyes instantly flashing to your face as you protest weakly at the contact. You're still lost in the high, eyes closed, lips parted, and chest heaving heavily. He’s never seen anything more beautiful; the image is going to be forever burnt to the inside of his eyelids. Well, he hopes so. He’d gladly wake up every fucking night at the memory of this, instead.

John watches you for a moment, letting you regain your bearings. If he could, he would keep you in this state, breathless and blissed-out… but he needs more. He’s only had a taste and he’s already addicted.

“You with me, doll…?”

He murmurs the words against your lips, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth at the way you don’t even pretend to be coherent. You were barely conscious before, he doubts you’ll be able to keep your eyes open for the rest of the night… but he needs you to be present for what comes next.

He dips in and draws your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before gently nipping it between his teeth, like he’s coaxing you back to consciousness.

You whine softly, eyes fluttering and slowly managing to open up. Your hand instinctively reaches out for his hair. 

Your fingers pull on his short strands just the way he likes it, making his eyes grow dark. And he can’t help but chuckle as he notices your half-lidded attempt at a smile, watching your tired self struggle to lift the corner of your mouth as if it took all your strength to do so.

He reaches down, fingers curling around your jaw and gently shaking it to make sure you focus on him. “There you are…” He coos, his voice deep and gravelly. “Did I wear you out already, sweetdoll?”

You groan, eyes dropping closed again and slowly opening up a few seconds later.

“Hmm… ‘was already worn out-” you slur, voice hoarse and quiet, almost as if it's coming from someplace distant. 

You’re barely lucid, half-conscious, and yet you’re still trying to sass him. That’s his girl.

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he leans in to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He’s smiling widely as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, traveling up your jaw, the corner of your mouth, your cheek.

"I know, sweetheart. I know..." He murmurs the words against your temple, his fingers gently stroking the side of your face, caressing over your cheekbones, your eyelashes, your mouth.

"But you're about to sleep on me. Can't have that…"

He wraps his fingers around your jaw and gives it another gentle squeeze. “You’ll have to stay awake a little longer, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

He keeps his firm grip on your jaw, waiting patiently for your hazy eyes to focus back on him. The expression you wear, dazed and exhausted, is like something out of his most depraved, shameful dreams.

“I don’t know if I can, John…” 

His expression softens at the sound of your weak voice. He can’t deny that you look downright adorable right now, your eyes droopy and half closed, your jaw slack in his hand, every inch of you vulnerable and malleable in his grasp. 

He lets go of your jaw and gently runs a hand through your hair, smoothing the loose strands away from your face. “Try for me, doll. Can you at least try?”

Your head lolls tiredly against the pillow, following the movement of his hand, a quiet hum leaving your lips. "M'so tired..." Your slurred whisper is barely audible, your voice growing ever distant. Your eyes cross as your eyelids droop again. 

John sighs. He can see the exhaustion in your face, the way your eyes keep wanting to slip close against your will, how much you desperately want to give into the fatigue. You look like you’re about to pass out at any moment now.

His hand keeps on caressing your hair as he weighs his options in his mind, trying to figure out what he should do. He can’t deny that he wants to do so many things to you… One above all, peeling those ruined panties off your legs and burying his face in your wetness, devouring your cunt and every drop of your juices like a man starved and feeling your soft thighs twitch and tremble and clamp against his head. Then he would sink his cock inside your still fluttering walls and watch your spent body come alive again an again and again as he fucks you all night long.

His eyes drop to your thighs, his jaw clenching tight. He can feel his stomach twisting and his erection throb painfully in longing even only at the thought of doing all of that to you. But you’re too exhausted. Too out of it. He wants you to enjoy every second of what he plans to do to you, but in your state you wouldn’t be able to.

His eyes flicker to your face again and he leans in to gently kiss your lips. He feels you respond, even if meekly. He pulls back to look down at you again, your eyes reduced to slits but fixed on him. Your hand lazily reaches up to cradle his cheek. He smiles at the gesture, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Maybe he can do one last thing before you doze off to sleep. 

Carefully, he eases himself down next to you, lying on the mattress on his side and gently moving your body so he’s spooning you.

“Stay awake for me just a couple more moments, hm? Just a couple more, doll.” he croons in your ear as he wraps one strong arm around your middle and moves his other hand to his pants to hurriedly tug them further down, together with his boxers. 

You mumble sluggishly in response, but relax into his warmth, head lolling back, forehead brushing the rough skin of his cheek. He places a firm kiss on your temple while digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your belly and pulling your panties to the side with his other hand. He shifts, bringing his hips closer to yours and letting his hard length rub along the crevice of your ass.

“Mmh… John-?”

He squeezes you harder as he presses his cock against you, moving it up and down a few times before guiding it between your thighs and through your soaked folds. A low groan rumbles through his throat, blending with your weak whimper. His breath fans the side of your face as he gently pushes his groin into your ass, coating his length in your juices, his tip hitting the moist fabric of your panties, eliciting one more exhale from him. He pulls you flush against him until your body is molded into his. Only then does he begin to buck his hips back and forth, letting your drenched folds stroke his cock and your panties tease its head. He won't fuck you, not properly, not while you're not fully present, but he is going to steal one more orgasm from your exhausted body - and pleasure himself in the process - before allowing you to drift off completely.

“It’s alright, sweet girl… It's alright…”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin and planting lazy kisses all over it. John keeps his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand splayed over your soft stomach, holding you in place against his body as he moves leisurely against you. His pace is so slow and steady that it feels like it's lulling you to sleep. That's what he wishes to do; he wants to ease you back to sleep by numbing your nerves with pure bliss. He wants you to collapse with his cock grinding against your cunt, stimulating your swollen nub with each slow, deliberate push.

You’re boneless against him. Moaning ever softly, body too tired to wriggle but tensing up in ecstasy all over again. He can feel the flutter of your stomach under his palm, the quick steady puffs of air leaving your nostrils. John moves his free hand to your hip, letting it glide over your smooth skin until it closes around the underside of your thigh and gently lifts it and places it over his leg. Both of you moan at the new position which lets you both feel more of each other. 

He feels your hips shake and hears your shallow breaths getting louder. He knows you’re already close. That’s good. You’re still awake for it. That's all he wanted. The hand resting on your belly glides down your mound, slipping under the fabric of your panties and touching your heat. He groans at the contact. You’re so fucking wet and hot… The pads of his fingers find your clitoris and start to rub tight circles over it. His lips press into the side of your neck, feeling your pulse, while you squirm faintly at the added stimuli. You make such pretty sounds for him. Soft mewls and moans, whimpers and gasps. Even weak and tired as you are, your body’s still so reactive to him. 

“That’s it, doll… you’re such a good girl…” he praises in a breathless whisper upon your flushed skin. “Stay with me… just a bit longer…”

When his hot breath brushes against your neck, he can feel a shudder go down your spine. He can hear your breathing getting heavier, your body twitching and trembling against him, and the whole feel of you is driving him insane.

It just takes a few more thrusts of his hips and flicks of his fingers for you to come undone again, spasming weakly in his arms - arms that hold you snugly to soothe your tremors. You cum all over his length, letting out a feeble cry so deliciously filthy that it makes his hips stutter. He halts altogether before he can over stimulate you.

“There you go, my sweet girl… There you go…” he coos in your ear, lips brushing against your cheek, before he buries his nose in your hair and drinks in your scent. 

John squeezes you tightly in his embrace until your shakes and ragged breaths subside. He watches your eyelids flutter one more time before they drop and remain closed.

He feels your body sag against his, your muscles going entirely limp in his arms. He keeps you nestled into him, his hand resting on your stomach and softly kneading soothing circles over your scar, while your other leg lies boneless over his. He can hear your breathing even out, slowly falling deep and regular, the warm puffs of air hitting his arm with each exhale. For a few moments, he remains still, listening to the sound of your breathing, feeling the rise and fall of your chest… trying to figure out if you’re still conscious, but your soft even breaths confirm to him you’ve finally fallen asleep.

He glances down at your serene expression, eyes closed and lips parted. Even in the shadows, he can see the light drool trickling from the corner of your lips. You’re completely knocked out.

John takes a few deep shaky breaths, his fingers digging into your hip. He allows himself a few more thrusts, taking care not to disturb your sleep. It’s not long before he falls apart, dumping his load inside your undies and muffling his moan with your hair.

He takes a few moments to regain his bearings, breathing deeply, getting drunk on the scent of you and him mixing together. Then, with great care, he fixes your clothes on your unconscious body, as well as his own pants, and wraps your form in his muscular arms, pressing every inch of you against him, until you're completely enveloped in his embrace.

He can’t help but notice how right it feels to hold you like this, to have you nestled against his chest, protected and secure in his arms.

A content sigh escapes his lips.

Closing his eyes, he knows this time no nightmare will jolt him awake. Not with you, warm, soft, and alive, sleeping soundly in his arms. Not with the steady drumming beat of your heart drowning out the demons in his mind.

With one more kiss brushed upon your bare shoulder, he whispers, "Sleep tight, sweetheart." before succumbing to his own exhaustion.

MORE STORIES 🥀

Please also consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi if you want to (but mostly can) support me, thank you ❤️

[moonmaiden1996]

Hi 😊👋 Corazon and Sanji both are my favourites (not that they're both blondes but they share the same endless kindness 🥰). So yeah I'd love to read sth about Corazon ♥️. I'm not sure if he ever had sex or even an relationship but he has so much love to give. Maybe you could write sth about spending a night with Cora? Might be the first time for both as a couple. 👀

18+ with some spoilers

So, I’m in two minds about this. Corazon is 100% a virgin. His trauma runs far too deep. After watching his mother die and his brother kill their father, his entire existence became a mission: a duty to keep his brother’s monstrous tendencies in check and save as many people as he could. It’s hard to imagine he’d ever think of anything beyond that.

But then again, maybe he would. After all, they’re gods—why wouldn’t his brother use others for his own pleasure, as cruel as that is I am not sure how his brother could escape his brother inclinations. Personally, though, I think Corazon is desperate for connection and would avoid his brothers desires at all costs. There are moments when he catches himself watching a couple at the port, jealousy bubbling up inside him as he observes how in love they are, the way they look at each other, and how they laugh. Sometimes, he sees young families—a mother laughing, a father pushing a stroller while their baby coos up at them—and he aches for that life so intensely his mind begins to wander.

In those stolen moments, he imagines a faceless woman by his side, pushing a stroller, while Law runs ahead with a smile he’s almost too proud to permit. He thinks about it so hard, he once walked straight into a lamppost, much to the hilarity of the other executives.

But then comes a miracle. Left for dead, he’s saved by a passing merchant, and for the first time, he’s allowed to live a little, to fall in love. (I’ve seen Dressrosa—let me dream, okay?)

Falling in love isn’t easy for Corazon—or, let’s call him Rosinante. It takes time. Time to heal. Time to process. Time to trust. The fire that once made him a spy had dimmed, flickering weakly in the wind of his pain and loss. And yet, you—you, the sweet little woman who came into his life—were the spark that reignited that flame, making him blaze brighter than ever before.

At first, he’s hesitant. Very hesitant. He feels monstrous compared to you, towering over you with his broad, lanky frame and muscle-packed build. He’s terrified of hurting you. To him, you’re a beacon of light in his darkest days, and the thought of his brother finding you, hurting you, or—god forbid—coveting you, is his deepest fear.

It would take your gentle patience to help him through this. You’d speak to him of your burning desire but never force or badger him. You’d make it clear that you’re waiting for him, whenever he’s ready. And when he is ready, he’d want to be careful.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he’d mumble against your skin during one of your passionate embraces—those moments where his kisses seared your skin and his hands wandered, peeling away clothes to reveal heated, blushing flesh.

“You won’t, my love,” you’d reassure him, kissing that sensitive spot on his neck that made him shiver.

“But…” His protests would falter as his eyes took in your soft, eager figure, flushed and inviting.

“Hush, my love. Let me,” you’d whisper.

And he would. He’d let you lead, following your every direction like a devoted worshipper. He’d marvel at you as you straddled him, your skin glowing in the soft light.

Now, let me tell you—this man is proportionate. He’s thick and long—not ridiculously long, but enough that you’d feel every inch of his size. You’d have to take your time, working your way down on him as he watches with a mix of awe and concern.

“Love… don’t push yourself,” he’d frown up at you, worry etched on his face.

“Hush…” you’d moan softly, taking your time, moving up and down his tip, your movements drawing gasps and shudders from him. He’d tremble beneath you, marveling at the sight of you taking him in.

This man would be sweating and rigid, utterly captivated as you slowly worked your way lower, stretching yourself to accommodate him. His long, elegant fingers, guided by your hand, would find that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your moans would fill the room, spurring him on, until you finally took him fully. His hands would pull you closer as you reached your peak, a shattering orgasm ripping through you.

Corazon would be a mess, overwhelmed by the sensation of you fluttering around him. If he didn’t lose control then and there, it wouldn’t take much more to send him over the edge. But true to his gentlemanly nature, he’d restrain himself, making sure you’re satisfied before letting go. And oh, how he’d adore watching you ride him.

Afterward, as you cuddled up, he’d take meticulous care of you, ensuring you were cleaned up and comfortable. You’d marvel at how gracefully this man moved—well, until he faceplanted onto the floor, completely naked.

I adore this man. Corazon, Sanji and Shanks are my favs! I think I have a type for goodhearted men who could defiantly rock my world. Oh the day dreams I have about these three.

Buttt Corazon is undervalued in my opinion! I just want to shake Oda till he finds a way to bring him back. But this is all I have for now.

I hope you like this, I had great fun imagine this tall, blonde, gentle giant. Keep you asks coming! Anything and everything! Any character....go on I dare you...I double dare you!

[crimsoncandy04]

At long last here it is, the unwilling sex slave of The Balladeer pt 2!

(note; It's stated in canon that Scaramouche of course refuses to allow himself to feel his emotions. So I believe that unless he was EXTREMELY obsessed with someone, he would probably just deny himself any romantic feelings and focus on his own goals even if it hurt. So I made my bro COMPELLED to love Y/N so he couldn't ignore his feelings. It's giving yandere but I tried to keep his internalized hatred for humans and mistrust of them as much as I could too. I have to get this part of the story out of the way, so I apologize if it feels forced or slow. I promise Wanderer will deliver in part 3 to make up for things though;))

The man who called himself Aether had stayed with you for the first few days after he brought you to the place called "The Grand Narukami Shrine" but then he had to leave for reasons you couldn't comprehend. You felt so unbelievably lonely and homesick. Longing for your master's embrace every day and dreaming of him every night.

You struggled to talk back with him at first, but eventually you found your inner voice again and were able to properly speak to him when he visited your dreams one night.

"Master I miss you so much. I don't know where I am but I want to be with you. I wish you were real so much! " You whined as you tried to reach out for the black and white apparition that surely was just a figment of your imagination. To your surprise he took your wrist and pulled you closer to him as his other hand found the small of your back and kept you in place. His monotone voice spoke in a shockingly calm tone this time as he whispered huskily in your ear.

"How do you know I'm not, sweetheart?" God this felt so real to you.

His lips trailed down your neck and his chin gradually came to rest on your shoulder as he held you tightly in his arms.

"It took you so long to speak to me again Y/N. Tell me, are you angry with me? Is that why you ran away?" He purred. An underlying predatory tone in his words as he turned to inhale the scent of you. Still not daring to ease his hold on you.

"No master I would never get angry with you! And I didn't run away, someone took me while I was sleeping! Please forgive me!" You pleaded. You felt him shudder a little.

"Liar. You left me to go back to that TRAVELER didn't you? Why else would you have let him take you away so easily?" He suddenly began to squeeze you so hard that it hurt. You struggled to take a deep breath as he continued.

"Don't worry, my pet. I will forgive you on one condition. Come back to me. I promise I'll let you off easy for this transgression if you just give up now and return home like a good girl ~"

You finally got enough oxygen to respond.

"master please I'm not lying! I don't know where home is or I would! Please don't be angry!"

He eased up a little. A soft hum leaving his lips as he then asked you something else.

"Tell me where you are then Y/N. Where did he take you? Give me the truth and I promise I'll have you back home with me before dawn. Speak my pet. Give me as many details as you can." Master sounded so comforting...so familiar. Archons you just wanted this nightmare to be over already so you could feel him again. So you told him the truth.

"Some big shrine. It's really high up. They won't let me leave because they say it's dangerous. There's also a huge tree in the center. Oh please save me master! I want to be with you!"

He pulled away then. A deranged smile crossing his face as his eyes dilated as he seemed to be thinking about something then. His voice was now shaky sounding.

"That place? Of fucking course he brought you there." Master started to laugh then. A very scary sounding laugh.

"He'll regret this. They all will. Don't worry dear. I'm going to get you back. Just stay where you are. I'll see you sooner than you think. "

You feel him release you. A terrible feeling of loss entering your body as he pulled away from you and disappeared entirely. You called out for him. Now all alone in what looked like a shadowy abyss.

Was this a nightmare?

You opened your eyes suddenly. Sitting up quickly in your bed as the sounds of explosions could be heard from outside.

You got out of bed and carefully went to open the window of your room and look out into the courtyard just beyond.

It was actual chaos.

Masked people were fighting armed soldiers. meanwhile several people including two shrine maidens lay dead in the sand as a fight raged on with no purpose from what you could see. However you weren't stupid and decided to get away while you had the chance.

No one had seen you yet and as you crept out of the opposite door to the small building you were in and fled down the mountain side, no one saw you then either.

Well you thought so at least.

You were halfway down when suddenly you felt a strong hand grab a fistful of your hair and yank you backwards onto your ass.

You looked up into the infuriated gaze of your master as he stood over you now.

"Well well well. Trying to run away again Y/N? And here I actually thought-" he suddenly started laughing again. Sounding very scary and even unstable as he suddenly kicked you HARD in the side. You screamed as his psychotic eyes leered down at you with little sympathy.

He rolled your foot over with his own and then began to press down on your ankle as he smiled cruelly at your tears.

You heard the bone snap before you felt it.

You were screaming and crying now as you felt him then kneel down and spread your legs before aggressively pulling your clothed sex against his own. He groaned before slowly grinding his hips between yours. His hands finding your throat as he began to use your body to get him off probably for the last time while he began to strangle you.

You tried to kick and fight as your survival instincts were activated then but it was a futile effort.

His hand traveled down your chest as your vision darkened then. Stopping suddenly as it landed on your lower abdomen.

You felt pain. But not fear as your world then went dark.

Your last thought being a pleasant one as your damaged mind could only be grateful that your death had been at the hands of your beloved master.

However things weren't over for you just yet.

You found yourself suddenly standing in the same shadowy abyss that you had seen in your dreams earlier. Except this time instead of Scaramouche, you saw a woman who resembled him in an almost uncanny way.

Scaramouche. So that was his name. Funny how you just seemed to forget for a while...at least your spirit could still remember your tormentor's name.

The woman with long violet hair suddenly turned to face you. Her eyes were kind. She even greeted you with a soft smile as you looked down and noticed a fox asleep in her arms.

"who are you? What is this place? Also am I dead?"

The young woman slowly walked over to you then. Reaching out as if to take your hand.

"here, I believe these belong to you."

You took her hand and suddenly every question you had was answered. You could remember EVERYTHING.

The vision hunt decree.

Scaramouche kidnapping you.

Miko leaving you to save your friend.

Aether coming back for you.

The child you were supposed to bring into the world.

How could you have forgotten so much?

The woman began to fade away just as quickly as she appeared then. A soft pink glow emitting from her silhouette as her spirit vanished.

After that you were thrown back into a world of excruciating pain as another bright violet light suddenly struck you in the chest.

"fuck. Fuck! Open your eyes damnit! Open them NOW! I swear...if you don't-" you slowly gained awareness as your eyelids flew open then and your gaze landed on a very disheveled and distraught looking Scaramouche. He had been pushing down on your chest. Practically crushing your ribcage in an attempt to restart your heart. Your body pulsed with electricity as you felt nothing but stiffness and agony in every inch of your body.

He immediately lifted you into his arms and planted his lips on yours.

Yet this time you felt nothing.

You wanted him to get the fuck away from you actually.

But something told you to hide this and play along.

So you did.

But it was too late.

He noticed the difference.

"You're acting cold sweetheart. Have I truly made you resentful of me this time? Oh well." He reached out to lay his palm against the top of your head.

"I guess I should've expected this. Don't worry, I'll make sure you learn to be a bit more forgiving."

You felt the tingling sensation you felt the first day he took you then. Your body wanted to relax but this time, anger welled up inside of you quickly, and despite your sore and broken body, you suddenly reared back with your good leg as hard as you could in the small space it had and kicked Scaramouche straight in the dick.

He dropped you for a second but didn't yell or even move. You barely even had time to try and pull yourself up before he was on you again too.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind. One holding your waist and pulling you back against him as the other went up your shirt and roughly groped your boobs.

His cool breath against your ear only disgusted you now.

"don't be like that my heart. Just relax. If I wanted you dead you would be. Though I'm tempted to choke you again for that little stunt you just pulled, I do understand your anger towards me. You should have told me before though my sweet. All of this would have been avoided then." He cooed as you felt his hardness against your ass then through the layers of fabric in between you both.

"ugh! Told you what!?" You snap.

You feel him squeezing one of your breasts much harder at the sound of your tone. A warning.

"that you're pregnant with MY child. Congratulations by the way dear. You're mine forever now no matter what ~"

This man was sick.

You immediately went limp and tried to loosen his hold on you. He was prepared for this however.

He almost sounded disappointed as he suddenly struck you in the head from the side with one of his hands. Moving faster than any man you've ever met.

His voice is the last thing you hear before you're knocked unconscious.

"rest my pet. You're not well right now. Don't worry... I'll make sure you're taken care of."

When you opened your eyes again you were no longer in Inazuma. To your surprise however, you were still... sentient this time. However you couldn't feel most of your body either.

In fact the only thing you COULD feel was someone's hands carefully caressing your stomach and chest as the other held you up from behind.

You looked around and suddenly you wished you had just stayed dead as you realized the new situation you're in.

Scaramouche was holding you in his arms as he gently massaged and kissed you as if you were his lover or something. What was left of you that is.

Because as you looked up and noticed the large reflective wall in front of you and saw yourself in Scaramouche's lap, your eyes widened in sheer horror as you notice that all four of your limbs had been amputated in your sleep.

He noticed your horrified expression and leaned down to speak to you in a soft tone which was unlike him.

"I know you're unhappy with me. And this will take a while to get used to. But if it means keeping you close and keeping our child safe from harm, then I'll do whatever it takes..."

You feel his hand slip under your dress then. You aren't wearing anything besides the thin silken garment and his fingers find their way into your cunt easily.

You watch in the large mirror before you as your body gets aroused and he plays with you in an almost gentle manner this time. Yet even as you cum on his fingers multiple times despite yourself, something inside you feels almost defeated in a way. Broken.

Is this really your life now?

Did you do something wrong?

What god had you angered to have earned an ending like this in the loving embrace of a vile man with a crooked view on love and family who claimed to only want to protect you and hold you close?

You didn't have much time to think before you felt Scaramouche lift you up a little and then slam you back down onto his cock roughly.

You were completely helpless to him in every way.

***time skip***

3 months have passed since you were made into nothing short of a living sex toy for the self absorbed and insane harbinger Scaramouche. Your belly was much bigger now and despite everything else, you found that in order to keep your own sanity perhaps, you learned to cherish the small things in your new life.

The man was very much willing to give you anything you wanted.

From the lavish silk robes and gowns he adorned you in daily, to the expensive perfumes and soaps that were used to enhance your beauty and soften your skin, to the pricey foreign delicacies he had brought in daily for your snack time and meals...it was very obvious that Scaramouche spoiled you and did everything in his power to make you comfortable.

And at night when he would visit you in his bed chambers, sit beside you as you lay on your new satin cushion and begin to kiss and pleasure you, you realized that you had started to enjoy it.

You had no worries in this world anymore. He handled everything from your medical checkups to your hair appointments.

You just had to rest and grow the life inside you for him.

You were getting comfortable in your new routine when suddenly one morning, Scaramouche confessed to you that he was going away for a while but would send for you in the future to join him in time.

Fear and anger immediately flooded your tiny body upon hearing this.

He was just going to LEAVE you like this?

He had told you that he would just be in Sumeru working on a personal project and that you would be well looked after while he was away.

You pleaded with him. Demanding to know why you couldn't come with him.

He just shrugged and said if he told you, you'd be in trouble. So it was better that you remain hidden and waited for him to finish things in Sumeru City first.

The conversation had ended there.

You were at a loss.

What was going to happen to you while he was away?

What about your baby?

All you knew, was when he left that night, that you had a terrible feeling in your gut.

[nashdoesstuff]

crest RAMBLES because i’m so normal about him <- i am regular

okay so. first and foremost crest is my take on nicemare. because i don’t really like a lot of interpretations of nicemare,, that’s just my opinion, though— i don’t like them much really but i do think they have potential!! so i gave it a shot and crescent is the result of that.

here he is!! my goober ever <3

second. he and his sister [celeste] were born in around the late 1550s. no specific birthdate [yet] but they were born in that decade. crest stood by the tree as per usual, defending nim’s new form as best he could, even if it didn’t go to plan sometimes.

during the apple incident, he only ate around half of the apples on the tree before the villagers started attacking him, so a lot of them were left to roam the universe after crest fled. celeste was put into stone with a spell after crest finished killing every villager, mostly because he was scared of hurting her with the new magic that had overcome him and that was beyond his control at the time.

he was. very sick. throughout the first year of his corruption. in this multiverse the apples make their consumer feel sick and nauseous, alongside other side affects. these can last or worsen, depending on how many apples are consumed. in crest’s case, since they were around 500, he was sick for several months, staying in one universe and mourning what he presumed was the loss of his sister, and the actual loss of his mother, whom he killed accidentally. due to the fact he never consumed every apple, “passive’s” soul was not lost, and crescent still controls his own body. his corruption only controls his body when crescent is angrier or influenced by surrounding negative energy. this can be best shown through crest’s eyelight— which typically is blue and purple [this is also known as crest’s ‘neutral’ state.] when it is entirely violet, crescent is usually showing genuine, strong positive emotions, or experiencing sadness, fear, or likewise. when his eyelight is entirely blue/cyan, his corruption has the majority of the control, and crest has a lack of sympathy. fortunately, entire corruption rarely ever occurs, only in situations of anger or extreme negativity.

he travelled the multiverse young, and stood in one universe for the rest of his childhood until he decided to travel again. he stood in another universe after falling in love with someone for some 20+ years, leaving a month after said lover’s death. after that occurred, he began to live loosely, only staying in a universe for at most a week or two before departing once again. this changed in the 1800s when he found an abandoned castle and called it his home.

his sister awoke from stone in the year 2065, in which you may remember from this comic where crest recalls celeste disowning him. after this happened and celeste befriended ink, crest met killer, horror, and dust, alongside cross who joined them two years later. crest treats his boys like family, and is a father figure of sorts to them. [sound familiar?]

after celeste’s corruption, he made a truce with ink to help both of them fight her off. as time passed, however, the two became closer and closer and eventually fell in love. they married around a year into their relationship.

now, my main issue with nicemare universes is they never really put reason to nightmare’s kindness. why is it that nightmare is seen as heartless to everyone but kind only to those who know him closely?

my explanation for this is crest’s requirement for other’s suffering. his corruption requires him to feed on the suffering of other people, even if he doesn’t want it. so, he goes to universes and harms them, only because he must. due to this, people find it more difficult to trust him. however, since his boys know and trust him, they deem him as the kind-hearted guardian he is ^^

additionally, as to why he’s nice, i think he used to Not Be. like he wasn’t too kind in his childhood. he used to get into fights and didn’t socialize, blah blah. these events occurred most frequently before the age of 13 because he was just on edge due to everything that had occurred in the village and had a very difficult time seeing that others weren’t going to hurt him. but as his magic developed and he was able to better feel the intentions of others, he grew to understand other people much easier than he was able in the years prior. he managed to grow out of that “guilty until proven innocent” mindset, and made some acquaintances and even developed some feelings for boys he grew up around. 

so! some fun facts about crest:

he is an avid tea and coffee drinker. he has coffee once in the mornings, and jasmine tea twice or more a day. he drinks coffee for energy since he doesn’t sleep ^^

he is gay! he would rather watch paint dry than kiss a woman

originally, he had a lot of internalized homophobia. he was told being queer was wrong growing up, so when he found out he was he Hated Himself for it. it wasn’t until he met his first boyfriend when he realized it was okay to be gay, and even after he passed he thought his partner’s death was caused by a higher deity being angry with them for loving each other. he only stopped believing this in the mid-1900s. 

crest is autistic and has some difficulty with social cues. he runs the castle on a strict schedule, only barely changing it. he rotates between 3-4 outfits and refuses to wear anything else unless it is an occasion. he also hates velvety textures, and cannot wear any sort of fabrics/textiles on his hands without freaking out about it. this includes bandages, gloves, and fabric on his hands for a prolonged period of time. this also extends to touch— long-term hand holding or unauthorized touching makes him extremely anxious. basically, if anything is on his hands that he doesn’t want on there, he will Not like it. his special interest could be considered the multiverse.

he does like rings though! he wears five in total.

he isn’t very fond of corrupt dream/positivity guardian variants. he just. doesn’t like them. his sister scares him enough.

he has a type when it comes to love interests: artists. he loves artists of any kind— his first boyfriend was a musician, and ink’s… ink. any other crushes he had were either painters, musicians, writers, or actors.

crest does doodle on occasion, mostly in journals he uses to take notes around the multiverse. he’s been keeping journals since adulthood, and has kept all of them since. he keeps all of his journals on a bookshelf in his office, and he has a total of 200+ journals, some specialized in certain universes and others moreso as travel diaries.

he primarily listens to classical and acoustic music. he has a record player and refuses to use anything else to listen to music in his free time.

he is 5’0”.

crest is insecure about his body, particularly his goop/negativity coating. he sees it as a reminder of the worst day of his life.

yeagh i’m normal about him. anyways feel free to ask me questions about him. thumbs up emoji

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When Paths Diverge - Y.JH

💔Who; Yoon Jeonghan x female reader 💔What; Angst. Established relationship. Break up. Vampires. 💔Wordcount; 2.2k 💔Warnings; Honestly, Jeonghan is not exactly a good person. Though it's not really explored in this. Reader realises that their relationship is not healthy and stands up for herself! References to turning/loss of humanity but no actual descriptions of that. I don't think there's actually anything specific to warn about, but let me know if I'm wrong.

Summary; After decades together, after everything you've been through, you can't believe that this is all it takes for the rose-tinted glasses to slip from your eyes and allow you to see the truth of Yoon Jeonghan, the man you thought you would spend eternity with.

-2024 Masterlist-

AN- I have no idea where this whole idea came from, it just hit me and it was supposed to be more of a quick flashback scene in a fic about them meeting in the future but instead this happened. It's very different to anything I've written in a long time so I hope it's okay. Big thank you to @kwanisms for helping me with the header by supplying Jeonghan pics! 💖

Edited: 21/12/24

“You are not the person I fell in love with anymore,” it's said so simply, so effortlessly, like he's rehearsed those words a thousand times in front of the mirror. Perhaps he has. You wouldn't put it past Jeonghan and his never-ending need to be seen as nothing short of perfection. "You are nothing like the woman I fell in love with those years ago."

“You can't seriously be saying that,” you respond disbelievingly.

“I am. You have changed, my dear, and not for the better.”

“Of course, I've changed, Jeonghan! It's been decades since we met and you turned me in that time! Of course, I've changed!”

“I have not.”

“Maybe that's the problem, Jeonghan. Your inability to make even the slightest changes to yourself and expectation that the world will bend and mould around the shape of you.” You scoff and shake your head while getting up from the couch. He remains seated in the same formal, upright posture he always does.

Unchanged in all his centuries of life.

You had given up your humanity for him, left everything behind for him, yet he can't even relax his posture even once. It isn't the first time you've noticed it, but it is the first time you've ever spoken it aloud, spurred on by his own hurtful words.

“Humans are supposed to change as we grow, Jeonghan.”

“We are not human any longer. I cannot even remember how it feels to be human. Maybe that is the cause of our differences, that you can still recall those memories.” He too gets up and straightens his already neat shirt as his always-so-level gaze meets your upset one.

While it usually settles you to see him so calm regardless of circumstance, always so in control and the voice of reason, now it just hurts.

Even now, during what your entire being knows is the end of your decades-long romance, Jeonghan's expression shows no sign of feeling, well... anything.

Shortly, you try to recall a time when he let his truth show beside the gentle little smiles he's treated you to over the years, yet you can't recall a single memory. You don't know how you've never realised before how much that hurts.

Suddenly, you're struck with the thought that perhaps, you never truly knew Yoon Jeonghan. You had thought that you were his exception; the only person he allowed to see the man behind the mask, yet now you're realising that he has kept even you at arm's length even when you were wrapped up in them and tucked safely against his chest.

You knew, still know, that he cares for you in his own way. You're just now realising that it's not enough and never was.

“Did you think I would become emotionless like you these decades? Is that why you agreed to turn me in the first place? To remove my physical humanity and hope the rest would follow?” Your heart breaks a little more when he only stares silently at you.

There may be no sign of a response from him but Jeonghan is quick-witted and always has a retort; he has never once missed the chance to correct someone. His lack of answer is louder than his words could ever be.

“Right.” You take a deep, steadying breath, making his gaze dart down shortly to your expanding chest before he looks back at you.

You used to think he found your quirk of taking unneeded breaths amusing, or perhaps cute, but now you know the truth; he doesn't look at your chest fond of the sign of the human habit remaining. But in disdain. He's been waiting for you to drop all your links to humanity, yet you refuse.

Humanity may not be a very elegant species and full of flaws, but as a whole, they're good, have morals and work hard to stick to them.

But vampires? Well, after so long living, morals seem to become a rather grey area for them so you've seen.

You always thought Jeonghan was a rare exception to that, but you know you've overlooked more than you should've in the name of love. Not in his actions towards you but to other humans. He's always put himself above humans and so long as you continue to keep your little shreds of humanity in your chest, he'll always see himself as above you too.

“I guess I'll pack up and leave,” you declare, already walking to your shared bedroom.

You don't stop to look around it, take it in for one last time. You already know what you'll see. Signs of the both of you; old mixed with new, him and you. A clear distinction you had stubbornly refused to see for the truth of what is it, two separates that can't make a whole. Not when your edges have been formed in your humanity and the weaker points smoothed over by Jeonghan's hands to fit against his own edges, yet you still have too many sharp points he could never flatten out. You hadn't even realised he was trying to.

“Just like that?” He questions, following you smoothly and watching as you pull out the large case from under the bed, which usually only shows up when he takes the pair of you away on an expensive luxurious holiday somewhere cold in summer. To escape the sun blistering the sensitive vampiric skin covering your bodies.

You have never seen him blister and had never experienced it yourself either as Jeonghan has always swept you both away at the first sign of the sun's heat, but you trusted his words entirely. Trusted him.

It won't be until the coming summer that you realise that he hadn't been entirely truthful. Yes, a vampire's skin is much more sensitive to the sun's rays than a human’s, but it's much less instantaneous than he had made out. The newfound knowledge will make you wonder what else he hadn't been honest about and send you on a task to relearn everything you know about vampirism, and the world in general.

But now.

“Are you expecting me to grovel and beg for you to change your mind and allow me to remain by your side?” You huff, shoving items into the case, though not everything you own because frankly you don't care for all the silks and jewels. That was all Jeonghan wanting you both to always be donned in the best money can buy. “Since when have I begged for anything, Jeonghan?”

“Never.”

“Then I haven't changed as you claim.”

“And you will not?” It's the first time he's outright about his wants here. It makes you pause your harsh packing to look over at him incredulously. “You said that you love me; you tell me every day, my dear, yet you will not even try to tempt me to open my arms again with an offer of change?”

“You think I am the one who should change here? Jeonghan, I gave up my humanity for you, I gave up my family, my friends, my life, everything for you and you think I need to do more to prove my devotion to you?”

“Is that not what love is? Proving one's devotion?”

“Then where are your attempts to prove your own to me?” You point out. “Over the course of this conversation I've come to the rather jarring and honestly heartbreaking realisation that you have not once ever changed for my sake. You've spent decades manipulating my very heart to your own whims yet you remain as stone hearted as ever. Unmouldable. I wish I knew that when we met; that you truly are just the empty shell of a being that man accused you of being. Thinking about it, maybe I should've picked him that night.”

“That man is a vile excuse for a vampire.”

“Is he?” You think of the beautiful, tall man from all those decades ago. He hadn't seemed very vampiric to you at the time and even less so now that you think back on it. He seemed more, human. More like you. “I should've taken his hand and let him save me from you.”

“Save you?” Jeonghan repeats softly. The first sign in this ordeal that he isn't entirely apathetic. “You have never needed saving from me; I have never done a thing to hurt you, nor will I.”

“Not physically at least.”

“There is no other way that matters.”

“The fact you can say that and truly mean it, is perhaps the scariest I've ever seen you, Jeonghan.”

“I do not understand.”

“And that makes it worse.” You turn and get back to your packing. “But at least I finally know you're capable of admitting to weakness.”

“You are my weakness.” That makes you pause again, though you don't turn to him. “I do not want you to leave.”

“I don't want to either, not really, but I can't stay if nothing will change, if you won't change, Jeonghan. I deserve more than that. You always say that I deserve the best; that you'd give me every star in the sky if I wanted them to hold in my hands, but you won't even change your own centuries-old, outdated habits and thoughts for me.”

You pack slower this time, not because you're trying to put it off; you know your departure from the home you can no longer call your own is inevitable. You're moving slower because it's finally starting to catch up with you and bloom saltwater in your eyes. You're trying to stop it from falling any faster and hoping that your own movements will slow the descent at least until you are out of the door. It will only hurt worse to be the only one crying again when he should be crying with you. But you know he won't. He never has.

“I do not know if I can do that, my love.”

“Then I can't stay. If you ever manage, I'm sure you will find a way to let me know.”

“You really are leaving? With no intention of seeing me again?”

“Not unless you change. I can't be the only one trying to be a better version of myself for the other.” You shove a final jumper into the case and zip it up.

You don't really have anything sentimental to keep, it all reminds you of Jeonghan and when he had turned you, he convinced you to let go of all reminders of your past as it would only hurt too much. You had believed him at the time, had full faith and hadn't taken a single memento of your family or human life. Though now you just think he was trying to make you lose all ties to your humanity to change you at your core, not to protect your delicate heart.

“Where will you go?” He asks, stopping you from leaving the bedroom by standing in the doorway and putting a hand on your arm. You brush him off though don't look at him, you can't.

If you had, you would've seen the pain starting to seep into his eyes.

“A hotel, I have enough money to do that until I decide where to make a home for myself.”

“You will not go far, will you? I cannot bear the thought of such a distance between us.”

“So I should suffer for you instead?”

“No.”

“Then let me go without a fuss, you owe me that much at least.”

Jeonghan is quiet for long enough that you almost lift your lowered damp gaze to look at him, yet he speaks just in time to prevent you from doing so.

He doesn't know that you are about to look up and see real emotion in his eyes for the first time, that you would seen his heartbreak and immediately reconsider leaving. If he had known, he would stay quiet longer and let you see him for the first time.

But he doesn't know, so he opens his mouth and speaks quietly. “I owe you a lot more, I am starting to understand that now,” he admits. “I will not stop you again, just know that I will be here waiting for you to come back. I shall do everything I can to change myself but this is our home, my love, and it will remain this way ready to welcome you back when I discover out how to prove myself to you. You can change it however you like when you return, but until then, it shall remain this way.”

“Don't do that.” You frown. “I won't want to return to this.”

“I thought you love our home?”

“I do now, but I won't then. To find it unchanged will just remind me of the past. Let it change with you, reflect you and if you find me one day and bring me back, I can add pieces of me back into it again.”

“If that is what you want.” You nod and adjust your grip on your case. “I love you; I wish it was enough.”

“Me too, Jeonghan.” Your lips press together tightly to prevent more words from spilling from them in amongst the sobs threatening to bubble out into the thick air between you, and you walk past him the second he steps aside.

The front door of the house is barely closed behind you before the tears start to flow. You stop to take a shuddering wet gasp before rushing to your car to throw the case into the back and drive.

You don't know where you're going, you don't know what will happen but you hope with everything in you that one day, you'll find yourself back on the same path as Jeonghan and meet a man changed for the better.

A/N- Don't be shy to let me know what you think! As I said in my author note at the top, I don't really write stuff like this, all serious angsty type things but if I know people like it, I will try to write more in the future!

[msmk11]

Trou Noir

Regulus Black x gn!reader

WC: 665

CW: Angst; hurt no comfort; Regulus’ death; mention of bile (no graphic description just the word)

Summary: Mourning your husband.

Day 12 of mk’s mad dash

A tragic romance. That’s what people liked to call it.

“Right person, wrong time” they would sigh.

And you hated it. Maybe it was true. No, it was true. But they had no right to say it. They were the same ones who had silently judged from afar- who’d scoffed and claimed that you two wouldn’t last.

They had no right to mourn.

You remained seated stiffly in a hard folding chair as everyone rose to pay their respects to you and your brother-in-law.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, he will be missed,” they all said, the words piercing your heart bit by bit until it shattered everywhere.

You tried to keep from scoffing. Most of the people at this funeral ignored your husband on the daily. When he needed their help the most, they turned a blind eye. They scolded him and called him a coward, an outcast, a villain. They couldn’t miss him when he was never a part of their lives in the first place. They couldn’t long for Regulus- someone they never had.

But despite the sickening insincerity that forced bile up your throat, you trudged onward with a stony expression. It’s what he always did in the face of discomfort, anyhow.

Your brave, beautiful Regulus.

Finally, after what felt like days, the few remaining guests filed out of the small church in which the funeral was held. Now there was only you and Sirius left.

Sirius.

You never much liked the older Black boy- especially after he abandoned his brother. But Regulus never stopped loving him. Even when he tried to hide it, you always knew that your husband longed for the relationship he once had with Sirius. His brother was everything to him, even when he’d been discarded by him like trash. So, though you had no empathy for the older Black, when the fiery Gryffindor broke down into sobs, you knew what Regulus would’ve wanted you to do. Ever so carefully, you reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

Sirius turned towards you with tears streaming down his face, “I- I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for him. He would’ve still been alive had I not left him behind.”

He began to cry even harder.

“No, you shouldn’t have left him behind” you agreed, “But Regulus forgave you. He always wanted you to be happy and safe, even if it meant he wasn’t.”

“You’re probably just saying that,” Sirius sniffled.

“Black,” you began, “I’ve never been fond of you and I've been pretty honest about it. Never have I once put something nicely to avoid hurting your feelings. I sure as hell am not starting now. I’m telling the truth.”

The man nodded with a small smile.

A sharp pain shot through your heart.

Who would’ve thought the two brothers shared a smile?

Refusing to cry in front of Sirius, you stood and began to gather your things, using your flutter of motion as a chance to hide from the man before you.

“Well, I need to be heading out, Black. I’m very tired. My condolences,” you mumbled.

As you turned to leave, he protested, “Wait! Can- can we meet up sometime? To talk about Reggie? I- I want to know more about him. Maybe then I can find a way to forgive myself and move on. Maybe you can move on too.”

You hesitated.

What right did Sirius have to ask you such a question after all this time. What was he owed after neglecting your husband for years? Why should you say yes?

Maybe it was because misery loved company, or because you were drawn to anything related to your husband, but you finally sighed in agreement.

“Fine. But don’t call him Reggie. You lost that privilege long ago. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron on Friday- 6:00.”

You and Sirius would never be the best of friends. But perhaps, through conversation, you would both heal from the Regulus-sized hole in your hearts.

[potatogratins]

— you're on your own, kid

꒰ summary ꒱ in the midst of an important game, a preoccupied yuki ishikawa thinks of breaking up with you. he plans to do so when he gets home, but different outcomes and realized feelings sets him up for another course.

꒰ genre ꒱ angst ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/gender-neutral reader ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 1,321 ꒰ published ꒱ august 31, 2024

꒰ a/n ꒱ another yuki one shot! i've honestly enjoyed writing him so much, even if this comes off as more depressing compared to two of my previous one shots. i still have a lot of ideas, some of which are halfway done. thanks so much for reading my other yuki one shots, and if you haven't, please don't hesitate to find them on my page and read them! if you enjoyed this, don't forget to leave out a comment! thanks again!

In every game, there’s a winner and a loser. For Yuki, he knows that there’s no winning or losing in this match. Because the game he wants to win isn’t on the court, it’s at home.

He doesn’t know when or where, but it began with the tiniest things: how the books were supposed to be placed, how the toothpaste was supposed to be squeezed out, or how the food was supposed to be cooked. Earlier on, he was less critical with how things went around at home—you were new to your humble abode, you were new to him. Things will adjust in their own time.

“Yuki, where am I supposed to put these plates?” You once asked.

Yuki put out the biggest sigh. “We’ve been living together for a year. I’m sure you’ll remember where they are.”

There was an inexplicable feeling in him, like he had wanted to hint the answer to you—no, not in that way. Perhaps, maybe, in a way that you’ll come to your senses and know the answer. He hates telling the obvious and the repeated, and the action of doing so is beginning to put pressure in his entire body.

You frowned, then began to open every cabinet, until he walked up and opened the very last cabinet for you.

“Remember, the plates go here. Please remember that. Please?” He told you.

You both looked at each other. Things will adjust in their own time, you both thought.

The opponent prepares to serve the ball. The cheers are loud, but to Yuki’s ears, they slowly falter away. The cheers turn into heartbeats. Yuki looks at the ball intently, but there’s a troubling thought at the back of his mind.

“Just tell me what you feel. Anything. I don’t care if it will hurt me,” You begged.

In the few weeks prior to the game, you and Yuki have bickered over things left unsaid. Maybe it was a terrible habit of his, but his emotions could never find a way out of his body. 

“Why would you go around telling people what’s going on between us? I didn’t even know that you felt this way. I’m tired of going around in circles. Can’t you just tell me what you feel without putting out the important details?” You berated him.

“Let’s break up,” you told him.

He ran up to you and begged you to stay.

He said, “Things will adjust in their own time.”

They were a set of words that were supposed to help both of you put this relationship in motion. A prayer for every wrongdoing. Now, a chant to summon you and stay.

Before he knows it, the ball has been traveling around. He’s out of his trance, and chases after the ball. Now the ball’s in front of him, and all he needs is to get this point so he could at least savor a win before what he feels might be a major loss. Then he begins to jump, and when he’s up in the air, he’s in a different kind of heaven. It’s the only place where time stops.

Two years, you and him. But for Yuki, it was four years, for he had been yearning for you in the two years before you got together. He’s chased you—and oh, what a chase. He had always fantasized doing everything with you, from quick vacations to sweet nothingness. He’s wanted to do so many things with you, that he’s even thought about them in his sleep:  He once woke up happily after seeing you hold a child in his dreams.  But what a waste of time—all that imagining—has been.

For the path he took was always meant to be taken alone.

He spikes the ball, hoping to get the final point, but the ball lands outside the boundary line. The cheers are now in absolute silence. There’s a look of disappointment from his face, but God knows what caused it.

Yuki will be preoccupied with the game’s loss for the next hour. But when he travels all the way back home, all he’ll think about is you. He will rehearse the lines he plans to tell you when he walks in the door and finds you sitting on the couch. He will drink the remainder of his water bottle at one of the stop lights because he knows that he’ll be raising his voice at you. When he parks his car and gets his bag out of the trunk, he’ll have to take in a few deep breaths, wasting ten minutes in the parking lot. He’ll pace around the elevator as it heads up.

Then when he finally gets home…

You’re not there.

He goes around the house, searching for your belongings. Your Snoopy cup is gone, and so are your floral plates. Your clothes have been cleared out from the closet, as well as the photos that once sat on the vanity mirror. Your DVDs are gone from the shelves. Only one toothbrush sits on the cup in the bathroom.

It seems as if everything is a dream. If anyone walked in on him at this very moment, they would assume that he lived alone. All the proof that you once lived here is gone.

He sits down on the couch and stares at the floor. He’s imagining things again: he should chase after you once more, and ask you to stay. Why did he think of throwing you away? Who’s going to ruffle his hair now? Or kiss his fingers every time they hurt? Who’s going to listen to his every thought? Who will be the cause of his happiness?

He damns himself. The way he hesitates. The way he hides. The way he sometimes looks down on you when he now realizes that he’s not any better.

He lies down. As he adjusts his head to the pillow, he feels a hard object behind it. He finds a small Cinnamoroll miniature. You once told him that this tiny dog was your son, and you squealed every time you’d see Cinnamoroll in the mall. You joked that you’d replace all the household items in the house to make them Cinnamoroll-themed, and that everything your children would inherit were going to be related to that small, white dog. He’s thinking of keeping it, for in this miniature was his hopes and dreams for and with you.

As Pablo Neruda once wrote, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

For the next few months, he’ll put it in his pocket when he goes out for groceries. He’ll hide it in the bottom of his bag when he travels. He’ll kiss it before every game. 

The photos on his phone mean nothing. The miniature is the only remaining testament to your existence, your touch. It’s the hope that you’ll get back together. He knows you’re out there, wanting to get back together with him. You will get back together. He knows because, according to him, he knows you.

What a foolish thought.

In his four years of knowing you, you were always one step ahead of him, and it seems that he was none the wiser about that fact.

A year later, he looks at the miniature after a game. He stares at it, then throws it into the trash can. Then he forgets about it, and then you. Days pass, then weeks, then months. You’re no longer you, but a former lover, an individual of meager importance. In the story of his life, this paragraph is the last you will find yourself in. 

For the path he has walked has been lonely and bare, for many years he will continue to walk by himself, and till the end, he will walk alone, and the path he will walk is long and far, with nothing but the endless road when he turns and looks back. 

[randxmthxughts]

Unrequited - Chapter 5 / finale - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

chapter 3 | chapter 4

wc: 8k

a/n: can't believe this is the eeeend!!! i'm so excited to finally post this and see what you think. it's been a journey and i hope you enjoyed it just as much as i did! replies and asks are greatly appreciated

unrequited masterlist | general masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey thought he made the right decision to let you go, after all, he knew from the very beginning that it wouldn’t work out. As the Olo’eyktan, his responsibility was to prioritize his people, so it was only fair that he stopped getting distracted by his desires and focused on his duty. Yet, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he made a mistake. That maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to start over and he had turned it down.

He didn't realize the toll that your last conversation had taken on you, leaving you completely shattered. He had disappeared for weeks on end, leading a search party to investigate the outskirts of the forest after the battle with sky people. It was a long time coming, but it still seemed too well planned to you. 

Tsu’tey also didn’t know about the number of nights you spent crying in your bed, or the way your soulless eyes were searching for him in every person during communal gatherings, despite knowing that you wouldn’t find him there. He didn’t know that Takuk, who had stayed back at the Home Tree, attempted to court you in a rather awkward manner, which was obvious to everyone. With Tsu’tey’s absence, and Takuk’s clear interest in you, people had begun to whisper and speculate that it was never serious between you and the chief. Takuk was an honest man, and Tsu’tey was too good to be true anyway, they’d say.

And it hurt. It hurt too much because there was a shift in the air. You didn’t push Takuk away, having no energy to fight back the swirling rumors. You stopped showing up to your lessons with Mo’at, despite following through with the ultimatum she gave you that night. Technically, Tsu'tey had broken things off, and you were a free woman once again, so you could resume your lessons, but what was the point? Becoming a tsakarem to lead alongside a man who didn’t want you?

You drew another long sigh, as you sat weaving a basket. Not that you needed one but the loss of appetite and the absence of healing lessons left you with little to do, and so you occupied your hands with a mindless task. Takuk sat beside you, absentmindedly polishing his weapons, his voice a constant chatter that barely registered in your mind. Most of your time with him was spent like this, with you barely reciprocating his advances, hoping that Takuk would eventually grow bored of you and stop his affection. And if he didn’t, maybe you’d finally break down and accept the idea of being loved by somebody else. 

“May I speak with you?” Neytiri casted a shadow over you, blocking the sunlight.

You paused for a moment to nod to Takuk, silently asking for privacy. Neytiri’s gaze bore into you, searching for a hint of your state. As soon as Takuk left, she sat in front of you, taking the unfinished basket out of your hands and putting it aside. You shivered, the absence of distraction made the thoughts come rushing back.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Neytiri’s voice was firm, almost like she was angry with you, “You look drained.”

You couldn't help but feel resentment at her words. Of course, you weren't like your usual self. You had lost sleep over the only person you loved, and it was unrequited.

"I'm fine," you replied curtly, avoiding her eyes. It wasn’t like you didn’t hear those words from her before.

“I am not blind. You need to snap out of it and let your mind rest,” she stated, taking in your appearance once again. You felt exposed under her gaze, seeing right through your fragile facade.

“I’m doing my best,” you shook your head, a painful lump growing in your throat, “Doing what everyone thinks is right.”

“I want you to do what you think is right,” she pointed at your heart.

You shook your head, wishing for her to stop. Neytiri sighed with disappointment at your stubbornness. She has been pushing you around for weeks now, trying to get you back to your lessons. She was convinced that Mo’at was right and that you were a good fit for becoming a tsakarem, so abandoning that opportunity and letting Takuk linger around you seemed like a waste of time to her. Whether you would end up with Tsu’tey or not, Neytiri believed you deserved to be recognized for your efforts and talent.

“The Great Mother blessed you with a gift, how can you refuse it?” she spoke softer this time, trying another approach.

You winced at her words, standing up quickly to gather your things. There was some commotion in the distance, and you spotted a group of warriors returning to the clan, just in time for the communal dinner. Neytiri noticed where your gaze had landed and gasped when she spotted Tsu'tey. But before she could react, you had already stormed off.

Tears were now threatening to spill out, as you realized he returned. The prospect of seeing him was on your mind every day since he left, yet you were too afraid to face him.

“Y/N, wait,” Neytiri yelled, chasing after you, “We’re not finished.”

You ran into your hut, not even bothering to check if she was still following you. The items in your hands slipped out and fell to the ground as you pathetically tried to wipe away the tears that were streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks.

“Eywa will guide you two to each other,” Neytiri’s voice cut like a knife through your chest, causing you to let out a painful whimper at her words.

“It’s out of her power to make him love me.”

Neytiri stood by the entrance, feeling a little guilty for pushing you. If she had known that Tsu’tey would be back by now, she wouldn't have tested you today. The call for the communal dinner rang loudly through the Home Tree, alongside cheerful whistling, indicating that the search party would be celebrated that evening.

“He is just scared to admit it,” she added, her voice low.

"I can't keep holding on to something that's not there.”

You shrugged, feeling frustrated with her persistence. You were unaware of the talk Neytiri had with Tsu’tey and how heavily it weighed on her mind. She was the only one who understood how deeply he was wounded by the pain of losing Silwanin. How he couldn’t bring himself to open up to you because he was afraid of losing another person he loved, and that the responsibility of being a chief was clouding his judgment. Neytiri was convinced that you’d be able to heal his wounds, but she struggled to show it to you.

“Alright,” she sighed, defeated, “Let’s go and eat.”

“You go, I have lost my appetite.” 

Neytiri hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, before nodding and leaving your hut. It was pointless to argue, so she made a mental note to bring you food afterwards. Her face scrunched up in irritation when she saw Tsu’tey standing outside, wearing a regretful expression that suggested he had heard your conversation, or at least the last part of it.

“Well?” she quirked her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to go and talk to you.

But as she stared at him in anticipation, Tsu’tey seemed to change his mind. He shook his head and walked away, leaving Neytiri disappointed. It was clear that he was torn between his feelings, and she didn't know what to do to help him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The physical distance Tsu’tey had to put between you two during the past weeks caused him a constant headache. It felt like Eywa was playing a cruel game on him, as night after night, you appeared in his dreams. He would awaken in a cold sweat, the memory of you convincing him to beg you to return to him, once he was back at the village. But then the next night, as soon as he was determined to win you back, the image of Silwanin would infiltrate his dreams, and guilt would consume him.

Y/N. Silwanin. He hadn't visited Silwanin for a long time, fearful that seeing her would awaken the longing he had buried deep inside and revive all the pain. But as he pondered on his dreams, Tsu’tey realized that Eywa was sending him a sign - a solution. 

When Tsu’tey brought out his kuru to the glowing Mother Tree, for the first time in years, he felt like he was on the right path. He knew that Silwanin would be waiting for him, but he was still scared to face her. He had so much to say, so much to ask, but he didn't know how to start.

Closing his eyes, Tsu'tey focused on his connection with Eywa and felt a gentle breeze surround him, wrapping him in a familiar warmth. A pair of hands, soft and comforting, encircled him in a loving embrace.

"Tsu'tey, my love, I've missed you," a voice whispered into his ear.

As he opened his eyes, Tsu'tey found Silwanin standing before him, smiling brightly. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, and for a moment, he forgot that she was gone. He held her tightly.

“I missed you too, yawne,” he whispered back, his voice choked with grief. When her fingertips traced his face, he had to close his eyes to stop the tears from flowing.

“I’ve been waiting for you to visit me for a long time now. I thought you forgot about me,” she pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said with disappointment, shaking his head. "I was too scared to come."

“Why were you scared?” she questioned, with an unknowing look, but Tsu’tey hesitated to respond, “Is it about me?”

“You’re not… not here,” he revealed.

“I am not?”

Tsu'tey felt a lump form in his throat as he recounted the painful events that led to her passing. Silwanin listened patiently with a peaceful expression, as if everything started to finally make sense to her.

“I see,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that alone, my love.”

Tsu'tey shook his head, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the emotions that flooded his heart. He was pulled him into a tender embrace, which made him weep like a child. For the first time in forever, it seemed like a weight was being lifted off Tsu’tey’s chest. 

“Tell me about your life now,” Silwanin placed a hand on his cheek, eager to learn, “You’re the Olo’eyktan. Neytiri is a good mate to you, yes?”

“Neytiri is a good mate to Toruk Makto.”

“The Toruk Makto?” Silwanin widened her eyes. From Tsu’tey’s brief story, she recognized the dreamwalker, “But what about you?”

“I’m not mated with anyone.”

Silwanin pressed her lips together, seeming displeased with his answer. It hurt her to know that Tsu’tey wasn't moving on with his life and was torturing himself. He watched her expression change, and gulped down nervously, before confessing.

“There is someone… but I don’t know if I can be with her. Ever be with anyone.”

“Is she good to you?” Silwanin’s ears perked up in curiosity, 

“She is,” he nodded with a sigh, “But I cannot make her happy..”

“Tsu’tey, of course you can,” she argued, “You are only torturing yourself if you’re pushing her away.”

“But what about you?”

“Stop worrying about me. I only wish for you to be happy, and if she can ease your worries and make you feel at peace, then who am I to stop you?”

Tsu’tey’s lip trembled at her words. Just like he remembered, Silwanin was understanding and kind, always looking out for him. And as always, she knew better than him what was right. He nodded slowly.

“It’s time to move on, Tsu’tey,” she smiled softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“You’re right,” he whispered, “I will always love you.”

“I know.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey returned back to the Home Tree, eager to find you and tell you he was a fool. His heart raced when he spotted your silhouette disappear into the thick greenery of the forest, but before he could follow after you, a pair of hands pressed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Tsu’tey let out a low growl of annoyance upon realizing that it was Jake standing in his way.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, brother? Haven’t seen you in weeks, and you’re already disappearing somewhere,” Jake teased, enjoying the sight of the Olo’eyktan becoming increasingly irritated.

“I have to find someone,” he mumbled, trying to walk away, but Jake was quick to block his path.

“Is that someone Y/N?” 

“It is none of your business,” Tsu’tey spat out.

Jake stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Tsu’tey with an observant gaze. Tsu’tey felt his patience ran out, eager to end the conversation and follow after you, before you’d disappear. Then he realized.

“Why did you say Y/N?” 

“Because Neytiri told me,” Jake responded, his tone suddenly turning more protective, “I didn’t believe it at first, but if it is true, you should be more considerate of Y/N’s feelings.”

Who was Jake Sully to get protective over you? To add on, who was he to protect you from Tsu’tey? As if he could ever hurt you. Tsu’tey stiffened at the thought.

“Neytiri shouldn’t have told you, it is none of your concern.”

“I think I get a little say in this, since Neytiri told you she was pregnant before she told me,” Jake answered. He waited for Tsu’tey to protest, but it seemed like the point was strong enough to keep him quiet, “Anyway, like I said, if you’re going to keep playing with Y/N, you should stop now.”

“Who said I was playing with her?” the Olo’eyktan suddenly felt defensive. Was it truly the way he was seen? Inconsiderate?

“It seems like it, she is a mess,” Jake continued, “Look, I don’t know her well, and I have no idea what went on between you two but it clearly affected her. Y/N is not well, Tsu’tey… Neytiri has been watching her every day since you left because she is concerned for her. So you either fix it, or you let Y/N move on, alright?”

“No, I will fix it,” Tsu’tey nodded with determination.

“Okay,” Jake stepped out of his path, “Okay, go fix it.”

Tsu’tey nodded again, his mind already focused on finding you, his feet carrying him through the bushes where he saw you disappear. He felt agonized, knowing that he hurt you so much it was obvious even to a skxawng like Jake. Tsu’tey didn’t even feel angry for getting scolded by him, because he had no one else to blame but himself.

His senses sharpened as he scanned the area for any sign of you. It didn't take him long to pick up your scent and follow your trail. As he walked, he felt a growing urgency to apologize to you, to tell you that he regretted his words. He didn't know if he could make things right, but he needed to try.

It felt like hours had passed when Tsu'tey finally caught sight of you up ahead, sitting on a fallen log and watching the river. You often came to this spot to wash off after meeting up with him, and as you sat there, your mind couldn't help but wander back to him. With your back turned, you didn't notice Tsu'tey lingering in the back, though you felt a presence nearby. It felt like your mind was playing tricks on you, but before you could turn to look, Takuk caught your attention.

Tsu’tey watched his trainee make his way over to you with a snarl. He felt a surge of jealousy and frustration at Takuk giving you a flower and you accepting it. He had been gone only for a few weeks, and Takuk already made a move? Were you only polite to accept the flower, or was it something more? Remaining hidden, Tsu’tey watched as you and Takuk talked. He could see Takuk's longing gaze but couldn't see your reaction, making him uneasy as he stared at your back. 

Shifting on his feet, Tsu’tey was caught off guard when Takuk suddenly turned his face and spotted him. The Olo’eyktan cleared his throat, now forced to step into the open. His heart clenched when you turned around to face him, your eyes tracing his features.

The formalities were exchanged quickly, though Tsu’tey couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, it seemed like there was something different about you. His eyes roamed over your face again and again, and he felt like he was deprived of you, wanting to memorize every small line and engrave it into his mind. Tsu’tey wasn’t sure what exactly changed but he noticed the shift in your gaze - your usual adoration was no longer evident in your eyes, making room for anger? You seemed almost irritated to be in his presence.

“Takuk, may I ask you for a favor?” Tsu’tey spoke, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from you and focus on his trainee.

“Sure, what is it, chief?” Takuk responded eagerly, completely oblivious to the way you watched the Olo’eyktan.

“I want you to gather a meeting with the search party and the rest of the warriors. Make sure everyone is updated on what happened in the last weeks, so everyone’s informed. I will join you a little later and tell you of our next plans,” Tsu’tey ordered. Takuk nodded in confirmation.

Sending Takuk away meant that Tsu’tey would be alone with you, and that scared you. You didn't want to fall apart in front of him once more, not after finally coming to terms with the fact that it was over.

As his past trainee and a trusted warrior, Takuk often received small and big orders from the Olo’eyktan. And Tsu’tey did not lie; he was indeed planning on a meeting with the rest of his warriors to begin the work. But once again, it was clear to you that Tsu’tey's timing and orders were as intentional as a trained hunter hitting a bullseye.

“Y/N,” he spoke softly, your ears lowering instantly at the tone, though your mind was telling you to be angry, “I missed you.”

“No,” you shook your head firmly, “You don’t get to say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Tsu’tey insisted, taking a step towards you, but you backed away from him, your heart hardened, “I’m sorry for the way I left things off.”

Unbelievable. After everything he had put you through, he had the audacity to show up like this and tell you he missed you? It was too late. The damage was done.

"You're sorry?" you scoffed, "Is that all?”

"No, I regret my words,” his eyes searched yours for a sign of forgiveness, “But I’ve changed. I am not that man anymore who couldn’t give you what you deserved. I’m not scared anymore.”

"It's too late for that, Tsu'tey," your voice was shaky, "I don’t want somebody who doesn’t want me… not anymore. I’ve learned my lesson. I moved on.”

Tsu'tey took another step towards you, but you held up a hand to stop him. 

"Please, just go.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey never knew the true weight of jealousy until you. It was always easier with Silwanin. He was intimidating to begin with and the whole clan knew about his love for her, so nobody dared to even think about courting the chief’s oldest daughter. But having given Takuk a permission to court you himself and seeing you continue to spend time with that man, while ignoring Tsu’tey’s every attempt to talk to you, made him furious. As the Olo’eyktan, Tsu’tey felt corrupted to use his position to get back at Takuk. He became ruthless during the training at the camp, pointing out Takuk's mistakes in front of his own students. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help his anger. 

Tsu’tey was also so desperate for your attention that he even forced himself to ask Neytiri for help. She scoffed at his request to seat you with him during the communal dinner but agreed to help anyway. Though, as she led you by the hand and you neared the circle, it was clear what she was trying to do. You pulled out of her grasp and sat down on the other side to avoid being near him. Reluctantly, Neytiri had to follow and sit down next to you, shooting an apologetic look to Tsu’tey. His heart sank once more at the failed attempt, and Jake had to reassure him with a nudge.

“Why won’t you speak with him?” Neytiri whispered, as you blatantly ignored Tsu’tey’s eyes piercing through you.

“I don’t want to have to do anything with him,” you replied harshly, occupying yourself with your food.

“He is truly sorry for the way he behaved,” she continued, trying to get it through you but you were too stubborn to listen.

The pain of being left by Tsu’tey was incomparable to anything you had ever experienced before. It cut so deep into your soul that you hardly recognized yourself anymore. You lost your appetite, with it, some weight, and the usual spark in your eyes. Mentally, you closed off and fortified your walls, to stop letting yourself hope. You refused to put yourself in a position where you were chasing after someone who didn't want you again. If Tsu’tey regretted his harshness towards you, then so be it. Your desire was to hold onto what little dignity remained, and if you let him close, it would have been completely gone.

“You’re wasting time,” Neytiri continued, “I have never seen him so desperate for anyone’s attention before.”

A big lump started to form in your throat: Neytiri always knew how to push your buttons. Your heart still swelled with the love for Tsu’tey but your mind was telling you to stay angry, not let him in. For once, you were listening to your mind instead of blindly following your heart. Not everything you love is good for you.

“Try some of this,” Tsu’tey’s voice rang loudly in your ears, your eyes quickly following his movements.

He crouched down in front of you, offering you a meat wrap in his open palm. All eyes seemed to be drawn to the chief kneeling in front of a regular clan member and sharing his food. It was a highly respected but rare gesture, usually perceived as a big compliment, or as a sign of courting? Your eyes darted between his hand stretched out towards you and his face wearing an expression of anticipation. You were acutely aware of the attention you were getting, and the more you stared at him, the more embarrassed you felt.

What was he trying to gain from you with a public gesture? Make you comply because of his title and give in? Did he think it would change things in private? You felt anger boiling up inside of you, as you announced as loud as you could.

“I am grateful for the gesture, Olo’eyktan Tsu’tey, but I feel ill, so I must refuse it. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you stood up, not giving him a chance to respond.

Tsu’tey, like the rest of the clan, stared after you, as you walked away, clutching at your stomach as if you were in pain. He had to swallow his pride once more and return to his spot. Tsu’tey listened quietly to everything that Jake was then telling him, about the ways humans courted each other, how he shouldn’t have put you into such a position, and it made him lose his appetite. Was the thought of him so disgusting to you? 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You continued to turn a cold shoulder on Tsu’tey, whether he showed up at your home to talk and you would walk out on him, or he approached you when you were with others, occupied with anything else but him. Days and nights passed, but you just didn't understand what he wanted from you.

So you found yourself wandering deeper and deeper into the rainforest regularly, trying to lose yourself in the lush greenery. Your thoughts were consumed with the mistakes you had made, and you tried to convince yourself that Tsu’tey's intentions to apologize no longer mattered. You were fed up with feeling sad over him, and anger had taken its place, though you still yearned for his touch each night before you slept.

You were completely lost in your thoughts, when a low growl shattered through the quiet of the forest. A palulukan sprang in front of you, hissing furiously. Panic surged through you as you forced yourself to back away as slow as you could, though it was pointless. You were defenseless; running from a hungry palulukan was like playing into the dangerous game of a trapped helpless prey. 

Just as you thought it was the end of your life, the palulukan slowly lowered its head to your height. A glimmer of recognition flickered in your mind as you took a deep breath. Was it possible that it recognized you? The palulukan cautiously took a few steps towards you, its growls softening as if it decided against attacking you. 

“Y/N, stay back!” Tsu’tey yelled, leaping between you and the animal, arrow already aimed.

"No, don't shoot!" you cried out desperately, "It's her! The one we saved."

The animal jumped back with a low hiss, sniffing around Tsu’tey as it began to recognize the man who saved her. Tsu’tey glanced back at you, and as you nodded to confirm your words, he slowly lowered his weapon. But he remained in front of you protectively anyway.

“She grew twice her size,” he commented with an observing eye, a hint of pride evident in his voice.

The palulukan caught and recognized your scent, seeming to relax and slowly retreating, flicking its powerful tail in a sign of trust. You marveled at the sight, watching the animal leave and disappear into the dense flora. A breathy chuckle escaped from your mouth, and you stepped out from behind Tsu’tey to bid a farewell to the palulukan. Like a sign from Eywa… you could feel her presence. It wasn't a coincidence. 

“What are you doing here? This is not a safe place to be,” Tsu’tey quickly snapped back to reality, addressing you harsher than he usually would.

“I can be wherever I want to be,” you put a distance between you.

"I don't want any member of my clan wandering this far alone and unarmed. Especially not you," he gestured to the empty space where your bow and arrow should have been. You fought the embarrassed blush - it was your slip up.

“I don’t need a babysitter. So stop following me around.”

“Not unless you talk to me,” he persisted.

You were growing irritated once again, crossing your arms on your chest. Arguing was wearing you down, sucking out all of the remaining energy. 

“Then you talk, I have nothing to say to you.”

“I’m sorry,” he began, and you couldn’t help but scoff at the words, “I truly am. I was a fool to hurt you, to push you away. I was scared because I thought I couldn’t give you what you deserved.”

“I don’t know what you want for me, Tsu’tey. Forgiveness? Do you want me to take the apology and move on?” you questioned with a harsh tone, “Because I am trying to do what you wanted me to. I don’t protest Takuk’s courting, I stay away from you and I’m trying to move on no matter how much -”

“I see you,” he interrupted, stepping closer to you.

“You see me,” you repeated confusedly, but your tail wagged aimlessly, betraying the small pang of excitement. Did he really mean it?

“I do, I see you,” he nodded, lowering himself to the ground in front of you, “Please, give me a chance.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of Tsu’tey kneeling, his hands wrapped gently around your ankles. You stared down at him, observing the way his face etched with true regret and something else? Like there was an admiration for you.

“What are you doing, Tsu’tey?” you swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything," he spoke desperately, his grip tightened as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, "I tried to push my feelings for you away, but they were too strong to fight. I can't bear the thought of you being with anyone else but me… I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

"Love?" Your eyes darted back and forth between his, trying to find any hint of lying, but all you saw was sincerity.

“Yes, I have fallen for you completely. My mind and body belong to you… my heart belongs to you now,” he whispered, as his hands reached for yours.

Tsu’tey, the man who had once claimed he could never love you, was now on his knees pleading with you to give him a chance. His eyes were glistening with tears, and you unintentionally mirrored him, feeling your own starting to roll down your cheeks.

All this time, you had thought he wanted your forgiveness for his harshness, but what he really wanted was to be with you. His heart belonged to you? You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to wake up from what felt like another one of your nightly dreams. But it was real. Tsu’tey had confessed his love for you, and it was entirely real.

“Can you find it in your heart to take pity on a foolish, cowardly man like me? Do you think you could ever love me back?” he looked up at you with so much hope. Tsu’tey refused to back down now, when he had it all out in the open. 

“Tsu’tey,” you let out, freeing your hand from his grasp. He would have died on the spot sensing rejection if you hadn’t brought your hand to cup his cheek tenderly. “I have loved you since we were kids, you know that, don’t you?”

“Truly?” he whispered, leaning his face into your touch, “Even after everything I did?”

“Always, no matter what happens, I could never stop loving you,” you confessed, lowering yourself to kneel in front of him.

Tsu’tey searched your eyes for any sign of doubt, his mind struggling to keep up with your words. But the way you looked at him was unmistakable; he had seen that loving, eager gaze before. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, tasting his own tears mixed with yours. You shivered at the feeling that was so different, yet so pleasant. He loved you. Tsu’tey loved you! 

Infectious warmth was spreading through you, and it felt like you were dreaming. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palm. Tsu’tey took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Tsaheylu,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours.

You’d be his, he’d be yours. He was scared that you’d push him away, but as you reached out to bring out your kuru, an abiding affection filled him from head to toe. He rushed to bring out his forward too, and as you were close to connecting, you couldn’t help but whisper.

“I see you,” you said, meeting Tsu’tey’s gaze.

“I see you,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face.

Your kurus connected, forming a tsaheylu, and you leaned forward and kissed him again, feeling the power of it coursing through your body. It was like the two halves were becoming one, and you could feel everything Tsu’tey felt. All of the doubts and fears were slipping away now that you had proof he was telling the truth, he loved you, and his mind and body were consumed by the thoughts of you. Tsu’tey felt your love too, everything you ever told him and did for him was with the intention of loving him… being hopelessly devoted to him. He could sense the way your heart raced and synced with the beat of his own.

As Tsu’tey continued to kiss you with an almost feverish intensity, it caused a rush of warmth to spread through your body. His kisses were gentle yet urgent, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he didn't show you enough affection. You couldn't help but hold him tight, wanting to feel his warmth and closeness after being apart for so long.

You ran your fingers through his braided hair, marveling at how much you missed the feeling. The way his lips moved across your cheek, your forehead, your jawline - leaving hot traces on your skin. His fingers tracing the curves of your body. Him exploring you like he was discovering you for the first time.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey was desperate to show you his regret, how he truly felt miserable for hurting you. He was forgetting that you could feel it too, as he committed to absorbing every little sound you made, his lips moving over your folds, long digits stretching you out simultaneously. He was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but squeeze him with your thighs, letting out a loud whimper when he sucked on your clit.

“Tsu’tey, please,” you whispered, your limbs starting to tremble at the tension in your core, “I need to feel you.”

He hummed against you, sending pleasant vibrations to your sensitive button. It was difficult to hold himself back but Tsu’tey wanted to pour out all of his love to you in the moment, to show how much he prioritized your happiness. You, you, you. It’s all you could hear in his thoughts, how he ignored the painful tension in his own body before sending a wave of pleasure through yours. You throbbed around his digits, fingers falling to his hair as you pulled his mouth away from you. He gazed into your half-lidded eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of you melting underneath him. At the feeling of your pleasure spreading through you and flowing with a taintest wave back to his own head.

He then rocked into you gently, slowly, savoring the moment. And you didn’t mind. You missed having him nestled in between your hips, angling himself in a way to pleasure you, to reach that spot inside you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. He groaned, the tsaheylu intensifying every feeling in every nerve of his body. You kissed him again and again, becoming one with Tsu’tey, letting all of the pain slip away and make place for love.

The idea of his pleasure only heightened yours, and you could feel the knot tightening within you as the pressure built up. Tsu’tey picked up his pace, whispering your name and confessing his love, but you couldn’t hear him. As your bodies intertwined, the thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air. You came, squeezing him so desperately, he was forced to follow right after you. Your moans vanished and disappeared into the back of his throat.

He had been so lost before, so broken and shattered, but with you by his side, everything seemed to fall into place. Your touch was like a balm to his wounded soul, healing the scars of the past. And the way you looked at him - with such tenderness - made him feel like he was the only person in the world.

Tsu’tey pulled away slightly, hovering over you with an observant gaze. You couldn’t help but smile hazily at the feeling of him still inside you, reaching to cup his cheek. He knew it. You were completely his for the rest of your life. How could he ever think you were a distraction when you were his cure all along? All of the self-loathing and hatred he felt seemed so unimportant when he had someone like you love him. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You couldn’t get enough of each other, and it’s been weeks since Tsu’tey and you became mates. Yet, no matter how much time you spent together, you always rushed to him at the end of your day. It was mostly with you in his arms, spending restless nights of passion, and conversations about the future, as you went to sleep. It was one of those nights when you laid on his chest, in a peaceful quiet, when Tsu’tey broke it.

"I've been thinking about something," he said softly, tracing circles on your back.

"Mhm, what is it?" you asked, looking up at him with a curious smile.

Oh, how he loved your smile! It was all he yearned for now that he got a taste of seeing you so happy. With him! Tsu’tey still couldn’t believe that he could make you smile and laugh so much, your cheeks hurt. All it took him was to admit his love, and your heart was healing alongside his, quickly, beating loyally for the other’s. He leaned in to kiss you softly, something he did often mid-conversations because he couldn’t keep it in anymore. Now that it was out in the open and you were mated, Tsu’tey quickly learned to stop worrying about everybody else but you. So if he wanted to hold you during communal dinners, he’d do just that, completely oblivious to your ashamed flushed face.

“I had this dream last night… And many nights before that too.”

"What was it about?" you raised an eyebrow in surprise. He rarely shared his dreams with you, because he found it to be pointless.

"It was about us," a smile spread across his face, quickly mirroring on your own, "I saw a big family. I also felt Eywa’s presence in it."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the mention of having a family, the idea of one with a man of your dreams was unsettling, overflowing. You have been in love with him for so long, it was still hard to believe he was yours sometimes. So having Tsu’tey dream about having a family with you made you emotional. Noticing your intense thinking, Tsu’tey wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you close. He had learnt his lesson, there would be nothing more unspoken left in between you. He did not wish to hurt you again.

"I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and raise a family.”

"I would love that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He grinned.

"Then it's settled," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt grateful to Eywa for the man lying next to you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

THE END

But wait, I have a bonus thingy (I didn’t know where to include it so):

Despite you slowly getting used to the idea of being the Olo’eyktan’s mate and getting more involved in his duties, you cannot seem to get back to yours. It is difficult to face Mo’at again, to take up healing, which you were so sure was your calling. Did you truly deserve to be a Tsahik? What if you were not talented enough? This killed Tsu’tey, as he would have preferred nobody else but you to become the clan’s healer.

He spent days trying to talk to you about it, having already announced his news of finding a mate to Mo’at. She wasn’t surprised to hear it, knowing that her hunch was always right, but you refusing to follow your tsakarem path upset her. Tsu’tey was determined to change that. When he saw his words were typically swayed by you into a different topic, he would send people to talk to you. It began with Jake and Neytiri, some of your healer friends, eventually he even asked Mo’at to scold you for your stubbornness, so you avoided her the best you could.

His plan outgrew itself when random clan members would come into your hut injured and ask for help, but sensing that it was his orders, you would send them away to seek help from Tsahik. 

To say that getting injured was unintentional would be a lie; the idea of rushing to you for help seemed like a solution to Tsu’tey. After all, you would treat your mate if he was hurt, right? It was a stupid plan and you’d probably get mad at him for being careless, maybe not talk to him for a day, but if it could spark that interest again, why not take the risk? He learned from Jake Sully that all is fair in love and war.

When Tsu’tey stumbled into your hut with a loud groan, your eyes immediately spotted traces of red all over his thigh. You rushed to him to help him sit, scanning for other injuries, your heart racing with worry.

“Tsu’tey, what happened?” you questioned him.

“Jumped into the bushes from my ikran and scraped my leg, but I’m alright,” he groaned.

“You have blood,” you pointed out, “I’ll get Tsahik.”

“No, yawne,” he put his hand over your thigh to stop you from getting up, “I want you to help me.”

“It's better for Tsahik to do it. I don’t know how,” you shook your head, the two of you knowing well it was a lie. You were perfectly capable of cleaning him up in a matter of minutes.

“Y/N,” he said softer this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, “Please would you help your mate?”

You stopped the protest, the red painted on his thigh seeming to reason with you. Then nodded with a small sigh before getting up to gather some supplies from your stash. Tsu’tey couldn’t help a satisfied smile that creeped onto his lips, as he watched you work. His wound wasn’t as bad as it looked, he cut skin which caused the bleeding, but it wasn’t deep enough to bother him. 

You worked quickly, feeling the way his eyes lingered on you, reminding you of the time when he first came in with a broken arm into the Tsahik’s hut. You looked up at Tsu’tey to find a glimmer in his eyes with a wicked smirk he was desperately trying to hide.

“This looked worse than it actually is,” you noted, finishing up, “Why are you smiling?”

“No reason,” Tsu’tey shrugged, “Just happy to see you back in your element.”

“I am not back in my element,” you huffed, putting the supplies aside and shifting in your seat to face him, “Why would you even jump off your ikran without landing first?”

“I don’t know, just wanted to jump,” Tsu’tey said but his growing smirk was raising your suspicions. 

“Do you think that I’d believe an Olo’eyktan would go off jumping his ikran mid-flying, as if he was a fresh warrior?” you questioned with an angry flare in your voice, “I can see right through you, Tsu’tey. This was careless… stupid of you.”

“But yawne, admit it, it felt good to treat me, right?” Tsu’tey ignored your scolding, hand reaching out to pull you to his chest.

You were genuinely upset with him for going the extra mile for you, but you couldn’t help it when he was so sweet. His arms wrapped around your middle, burying his face in the back of your head with a satisfied hum. 

“Tsu’tey, it is not funny,” you tried to continue with anger, but it came out too low, “You shouldn’t injure yourself like that for me.”

“I just want to see you do what you like to do. Is it so bad to wish you used your talents?”

“I don’t have talent for healing -”

“I don’t like it when you lie to me,” he interrupted.

You fell quiet. He was being sweet the past week, trying everything to get you back into healing.

“Fine, I’ll give it another chance…” you trailed off, and it took a moment for him to turn you around with a joyous laughter and kiss you with all the gratitude he felt.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Oh, and bonus canons to resolve some of the plots:

Takuk found out about you being mated with Tsu’tey soon after, being one of the first. 

he came to ask you to spend time with him when saw Tsu’tey come out of your hut

later that day he felt the change not only in your mood but also in your scent, and it all clicked in his head

being respectful of his Olo’eyktan and having doubts from the beginning that there was some truth to the rumors, Takuk didn’t take it to his heart

his whole life he looked up to Tsu’tey and he was happy to see the man beaming with love

you and Tsu’tey both felt bad for leaving things unanswered but eventually it passed

there was no more tension Tsu’tey felt between himself and Takuk

Neytiri threw the fact that you’re together into Jake’s face almost every day

every time they saw you two, Jake got ready to receive that satisfied smirk from Neytiri

of course, it was her who found out about you mating with Tsu’tey

the second they saw each other on the next day after your mating, they exchanged a knowing look

he thought it’d be fair to tell Neytiri first for everything she did for him

you quickly slipped into your usual self, even happier than you were before Tsu’tey and it didn’t go unnoticed

while it was a bit sudden to them, the clan mostly reacted well when they saw Tsu’tey hold your hand

eventually everyone realized that happy Tsu’tey = happy clan, so no one dared to even think anything negative

you and Tsu’tey began to make your own place, in the meantime, he would come and spend time at your hut

he’d sometimes finish up his chores for the day earlier to come and fetch you from Mo’at

she was not eager to let you go but she couldn’t say no when she saw your smile whenever Tsu’tey walked in

and though you had your doubts at first, after the tsaheylu, trusting Tsu’tey was the easiest thing you had to do

after feeling what he felt for you and hearing him reassure you every night, you felt like the most important person to him

which you are

Tsu’tey was grateful for finding you, after losing everything else

as lessons went by, it was only logical that Mo’at announced you to be the new tsakarem

connecting with Eywa became one of your favorite things, as you were not ashamed of what you had or didn’t have anymore

your connection grew stronger and often you got signs from her, one of the perks of being the future Tsahik

the love between you and Tsu'tey also grew stronger with each passing day, and you felt like you've finally found your purpose

Jake always said something about you falling for Tsu’tey first, but him falling for you harder

you’re not sure what it really meant but he assured you it was a good thing back on earth, !!!romantic!!!

of course, Tsu’tey and you started discussing having kids (like a few weeks in) but decided to hold on to it for a little bit longer, so that you could focus on each other and your new duties

but it didn’t take too long until you gave in…

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (since this is the last chapter, if you guys want to be moved to my regular taglist please let me know): @mechformers @xx-mayday-martyr-xx @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @live-laugh-neteyam @cawi00 @sovereignsylvia @wifey0209 @jakescumdump @vxncxntt @avatarbyamara @vviviivvivivivvivivivi @aracelikara @brooklynscherry-z @teyums @bestwlwmonster @totesnothere04 @n7cje @suntizme @weasleytwinwheezes @neteyamslovrr @crustskullz @vane28282 @youngbananamilkshake @elissanatok @perplexing-vex @zoetrope1997 @yeosxxx @kurogxrix @sakura-onesan @saltedcoffeescotch @daeneeryss @silententhusiastdreamer @omnifanfic @skyofnight @stargirlrchive @doromoni @anxietydrogz @marsbars09 @deliciousdilfmentality @theunfortunateplace @tinystarfishgalaxy @mayonaise-mmm @marsbars09 @faerienotfound @ohshititsfenharel @meowiemari @ttkttt @arsonfrogger @isabel-ffl-xoxo

[lychniis]

⚘ — COSMIC BALLET.

i. SYNOPSIS : sometimes you wonder if your spark could outshine his centuries old light. ( jing yuan x reader )

ii. WARNING(S) : mentions of mortality, comfort, Jing Yuan needs a hug, we all do, really. This is all very rough and unrefined I wrote this on my phone hdhdhdhd. Inspiration.

# masterlist

&& . jing yuan · ( hello dear sun of mine ; you shine ever so bright )

JING YUAN SHINES WITH A LIGHT too bright for a human. It's the sun embodied, carved onto muscle and skin like fire on flesh, and the art of kintsugi itself, and the people would look upon him and walk their orbits and live their lives.

He'll pour his wine out and rearrange his xianqi pieces and watch the years on the Luofu tick by with war, then peace, then war, then peace again. He'll change strategies. He'll land his checkmates. He'll count every victory and loss. Then he'll shut his eyes and dream of a world where he was a distant speck, anything but a burning star.

And still, he shines —

( Bright, bright, brighter and you fear the hearth shall soon give out. )

— And still the people look to him. For the planets center their suns, the asteroids chart their course, the universe exists in itself, a state of orderly chaos. Jing Yuan was the Luofu’s heart, the people's heart and that great light was a terrible thing that could never be diffused ( only burn out as time wears upon it ).

You wonder where he gathers his strength, if he could keep dancing this cosmic ballet. Jing Yuan was still Jing Yuan, a human with his soft insides and his fragile soul. And he holds that sun in him. He holds the face of The Hunt. He holds onto Lan's will. He falters. You watch him stagger at times. You see his weariness and something, something in you cries.

You wonder if you could do such a thing too ( you cannot, for your life was a limited, fleeting thing and the daunting weight of immortality scares you too much, like the cold metal of a vice ). You wonder if your comfort would show any effect.

"If you are the sun..." You ask him one day, when the world was quiet and you slip deeper into the warmth of your sheets. "Then what am I?"

You feel his weight shift behind you, his warmth press against your back and his breath against your skin. They were the subtle hints of proof, of his life, of the humanity that stirs in him. You inch closer. "That's a strange question to ask in the middle of the night."

"I know it is. But I'm curious. And I can't sleep when I'm curious."

He laughs that deep, rich laugh. You feel something, it's a wild sort of adoration, a strong urge to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. It hurts. You push it away.

"A spark," he decides after a moment's silence, like the word is a funny joke you don't quite understand. "Sparks hold potential. Sparks can burn brighter."

"Not as bright as you."

"Of course you can." He replies. He seems sure of himself. He kisses your lips, your neck. He looks at you with a reverance, with worship on his fingertips, with a wistful, desperate longing. "They may not see it, but I do. I will."

You want to laugh. He sounds silly, foolish, and it was a strange way to describe someone as meticulous as him. You only hold a few decades of life left. You hardly believe you could come to be something so profound. "Why?" You ask him.

He gives pause. There is a sacred thing nestled in your question, something that should be handled delicately.

"Because..." He carefully picks his words. You feel his fingers curl in with yours. "You're mortal." Your lips part. He keeps speaking. "And when you love me, when you live and feel as you do — in my gaze, dear heart, you far eclipse this old worn soul of mine."

Ah. You blink. Ah, he was being sincere.

"Do I?"

You sound small. Jing Yuan smiles. He leans into you, nose grazing against yours. The gold in his eyes have dimmed to a mellow affection.

"You do." He nods. "And I am honored, so honored to be loved by you." He kisses your knuckles.

You do not speak. But you hug him, hold him as close as humanly possible. Jing Yuan shuts his eyes. He lets his light dim in your presence. You let yourself eclipse him, as he says you do.

You let him rest.

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

BAHAHAHAHA I wrote this whole thing in college on my phone help dhdbdjd. But hey, something short, a bit of a buffer so hehehe.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill this form up!

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AINE | 2023. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

[justanotherlifeff]

Use of an unrequited love

Sukuna x reader [Final part of “Love is Meaningless” and “Posession”]

[Trigger warning: Kinda rapey and borderline non con. Sukuna is a red flag. Sukuna has some very backdated views on how women should dress. Sukuna is the trigger warning]

You always had these vivid dreams your entire life. Dreams that seemed awfully real despite being inexplicably blurry. You remember a time before you were born, before anyone you know existed. You remember a small hut, a decent family, a village full of friendly people. You remember a cave near the forests, the smell of homecooked food in a bento box, the sound of water at a passing by stream, the feeling of wet grass on your bare feet. You remember crimson eyes, a blurry figure, and an intense feeling of love. You remember so much, the sensations, the smell, the taste, and yet, you couldn’t remember who that man was, the one that took your heart for himself. You remember helplessness, fear, and pain from being stabbed and it all goes blank each time. And then, you woke up to face reality, as you always do after these dreams. However, this time you were looking into those crimson eyes that had always existed in those unreachable dreams.

You didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was being hit in the head while trying to fight Sukuna after he took over Megumi’s body. However, you were definitely terrified, given the fact that in the traditional Japanese room with you was the king of curses himself, waiting for you to wake up with an unreadable expression on his face.

How adorable, he thought, when you regained consciousness and had that look of abject horror. To think you of all people would look at him this way someday. Fate truly was laughably cruel. “I won’t hurt you, brat.” He chuckled, finding your reaction hilarious, and yet, more painful than any wound he had ever suffered. To think, the woman who accepted him with open arms a thousand years ago looked at him like the curse he was. Didn’t he fall for you because you never looked at him this way back then? What even was left of that love you two had? “Where am I?” You asked him, your voice full of fear and surprisingly, intrigue. He didn’t quite understand your reaction. “I wondered, how I would react if I ever heard you say these words. Whether I would chop you to pieces for acting like I was some parasite possessing Itadori for so long. But I’m afraid, whoever decided to play this sick joke towards me were right about one thing. I cannot kill you.” Sukuna sighed. That expression confused you. What was that expression in his eyes? Was it… longing? Why was there this expression of profound loss in his eyes? Why did you see these eyes in your dreams?

“Why can you not kill me?” You asked, trying to get as much information as you could. Perhaps it would help you escape, perhaps it will help you understand his weaknesses. Or perhaps, you would understand if those dreams truly had any significance. You were grasping at any opportunity at this point. “Ryomen Sukuna never took in a wife and never had children, that’s what you humans were taught in history, correct?” He asked, the frown never leaving his lips. “Yes. Was this wrong?” You asked, definitely curious. This was huge information after all. “Heh. Wrong is an understatement. I had a wife who was going to give me an heir. Before I became the king of curses, when I was just a wretch, a worthless being in this worthless world. She was weak, pathetic even. Her humanity was what killed her. And with herself, she took away the child too.” He chuckled dryly, as if he was amused by the sheer audacity of the world. He didn’t care that the wedding never happened. That you died before he could make you his, before he could give you the happiness you deserved. You were his wife in that lifetime. He didn’t accept otherwise in his mind.

Ah, that sounded, awfully familiar. Yet, somehow, when you dared to look into Sukuna’s eyes as he spoke of that past that you dreamed of, you knew exactly who you were to him. What you didn’t know was how to feel about it. “Why are you making that expression?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow at the shock in your eyes. He didn’t even tell you the whole thing yet so why were you so shocked? “Was I… her?” You asked him, not knowing what else to say. “You knew? Heh, you are a tricky one huh… How did you know? Well, I suppose that’s good since I wouldn’t have to waste my breath explaining things to you. I’m sure you realize exactly what I want from you, correct?” He had a smile on his face as he told you this, pleased that he wouldn’t have to speak of those complicated emotions. You never imagined you would see the king of curses make such an expression.

Saying no to him is a privilege in Sukuna’s views, and you didn’t earn that privilege yet. How could you? After all, in his views, you owe him far too much. You owe him his heir, you owe him your life, you owe him whatever humanity he had left in him before your death. However, he owed you everything he was. He became the King of Curses because of you and he was never one to forget ones who did him a favor. His power, his influence, everything happened because of you and he wasn’t one to stay indebted. As on que, you disappointed him yet again. “I don’t want this. You stand against everything I fight for. You have killed so many, you have massacred hundreds and thousands… I.. or to be more precise, my previous incarnation did not fall in love with this. I fell for a man who was ostracized by society because of the way he was born. I fell for a man who deserved to be treated like human. I didn’t fall for a monster.” Was your reply.

“Did you truly believe I care for your opinion? You’re mine. I won’t hurt you, not physically atleast, nor will I kill you but that doesn’t change the fact that I take what’s mine. So get this ridiculous notion out of your head that what you say, or what you want, matters to me. We could do this two ways. You can continue to reject me, defy me, and I will take away everything you care for one by one. I will kill your family, kill that pet dog you like so much, kill your friends, and kill other humans right infront of you so that I am all you have left. Or you could give in, forget about those foolish ideals you live for, and I would give you the world. I will personally make sure your family is not harmed and I will even bring that mutt to you. As for your friends and other people, I cannot make promises since your friends are my enemies. However, even a child can tell what the better option is.” Sukuna snapped at you, anger evident. How dare you defy him? How dare you try to take yourself away from him after he waited for a millennia?

He was right, you knew the better option. Reality was, you were selfish. Like all humans, you had your vices. Even now, you didn’t wish for your family to be harmed, and you knew that Sukuna was the type of man who keeps his promises. So you just looked away, and nodded, trading your friends, your companions for your family. You dreamed of a life where you would meet a good man, have a family. However, those dreams seemed like childish musings. Reality was always different, cruel. Just like how Sukuna’s satisfied smile looked more cruel than anything to you.

“Using your family works to convince you, even now… Even after what happened in your previous life.. How naive.. No matter, anyone who attempts to harm you or take you away will face a fate worse than death. Your weakness wouldn’t take you away anyone.” He said with a smile, cupping your cheek. It would sound romantic in normal circumstances but it wasn’t. You knew that your friends will attempt to save you and he would kill them. “I have restrained myself long enough. You have heightened my temptation all those months, dressing like a vulgar whore after all. Then again, all women seem to dress that way in this era. Take responsibility for your actions, woman” The smug smile on his faces told you what was about to happen. “Strip”, he commanded.

“Sukuna.. I don’t… Im not ready…” You tried protesting with a shaky voice much to Sukuna’s annoyance. “Cease your incessant whining. You’re alive because of those disgusting emotions you make me feel or you would be dead already for defying my orders. I will say this one last time. Or else, I will tear those clothes off you myself. Strip.” His voice rang, full of displeasure. With shaky hands, you complied. “Just as beautiful as I remember… I must thank whoever decided to play this cruel joke on me before killing them” Sukuna chuckled, moving close to you, eyeing your bare skin, his arms grabbing your waist to pull you closer. “Look at me” he commanded, using one hand to grab you by your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of your lips like a starved beast. Even a millenia later, you tasted the same. Your lips felt the same, soft against his.

Yet, something was missing. He couldn’t quite figure out what as he pushed you down on the futon nearby. Something about you made this different, less pleasing, less fulfilling. The thought didn’t leave his mind even as he undressed, even as he lifted your legs up on his shoulder, spat on your cunt to make it wet and plunged his cock into you. The sounds you made, of pleasure and pain were the same. The moans, whimpers, calling his name out as you grabbed his forearms, scratched his back raw… it was all the same. Your insides were just as tight, as warm, just as pleasurable as he remembered. As he fucked into you, ramming his cock against your cervix, he ended up saying those dreaded words that he only uttered all those years ago.

“I love you. Fuck! Ill make you my queen. Ill give you the whole damn world at your feet. You feel like heaven on Earth, my love. I love you.” He groaned out in your ears, about to reach his release as the erotic sounds of your moans and whimpers of his name were music to his ears. Thats when he realized what was missing. You didn’t tell him you loved him back. Not once did you show any affection towards him. As he reached his release, filling you to the brim with his seed, he realized that you weren’t the woman who loved him despite him being a monster. You were simply someone who looked like her and shared her memories. You did not love him. Unfortunately, somewhere in his twisted heart, he desperately wanted to believe you would give in if he fucked you well enough. That you would become the woman who captured his heart and he could just continue on like nothing happened. Like you never died in that past life. However, reality was often disappointing.

Pulling out of you, he was lost for a moment as he got up and sat at the edge of the bed. After a moment, he spoke. “Leave, Y/N” he said, his voice hardened. “W-what?” You asked, panting and surprised by his words. “I will win this world first. And then I will win your heart again. So, leave. Spend time with those you care for because they may die when I conquer this world. You’re not the woman I fell for. Atleast, not yet.” Sukuna answered, not even giving you a glance. “You’re just letting me leave? Just like that?” You were shocked, wondering if this is some kind of trick. “What use do I have of a love that is not returned?” Sukuna chuckled dryly in answer.

[statementlou]

forgive me if this is too serious for an anon ask.. feel free to ignore it..

but this week shook me in ways i didnt see coming. i wasnt a one direction fan growing up.. tbh im still not, i listen to only a few songs. im same age as louis. so, i found one direction through him.

i have great affection for all of the boys though. and even in my short time in fandom, i've always been surprised and saddened by the bullying liam has gotten.. he just always seemed like a good person with really poor communication skills. to understand his point, you had to give him some space and context.

but this year has been a constant worried watch over liam. it was so plain things were desperate.

stan twitter got to me so bad that i left twitter the day louis' tour ended. so i was very peripherally aware of his recent harassment, but i did worry.

and now the unimaginable has happened, i am just at loss. not just in the sense of how to make sense of this loss, but also the complete lack of empathy for him still? even for other boys' fans.?? after they've seen how all of the boys' are hurting?

and just in the bigger picture.. how is this real? what loving god/higher power/whatver has allowed this to be the state of the world? he was so kind, so generous, just a boy. JUST A BOY. just trying to find a place to fit and feel safe. why was he dealt such cruelty? just while he was pursuing something he loved? something he was gifted with? in life and in death?

im just at loss. heartbreak doesnt even begin to cover it.

for me I've felt it was a constant worried watch over Liam for many years now, but other than that, yeah. It's hard to feel hope or faith in the face of so much senseless cruelty and pointless loss; all I can say is I would hope the millions of people who are shocked and saddened by this take away something lasting both about the fact that there are real people on the other side of the computer screen and cruelty has a real impact, and that addiction can afflict anyone. Nothing can make this other than tragic and regrettable forever; but I would love to see the amazing power of fandom mobilized to support programs for addicts and to fight stereotyping and dismissing of people who use drugs in Liam's name. To see people use this as a realization to really understand that it wasn't strange or exceptional that someone talented and worthwhile could succumb to addiction and ultimately die of it, but rather a plague that our society is allowing to run unchecked because of stigma. IDK, maybe I'm just grasping at straws trying to find something remotely positive that could come out of this situation but what else can you do? It's just so sad.