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lovesculprit · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 16 - Overstimulation with Satoru Gojo

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), anypov, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, sub!gojo, oral (reader giving) ˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 3k

a/n: don't know how to feel about this, kinda feels like i forgot how to write after my last one :/

Satoru was always so composed, effortlessly powerful, the weight of the world on his shoulders but never a crack showing. But tonight, as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, his hands tangled in his hair, you could feel the tension emanating off him. The playful smirks, the easygoing demeanour that he always wore like an armour, all seemed so out of reach now.

"Too much?" you asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He didn't immediately answer; the soft rise and fall of his chest spoke volumes more than any word could utter. You could see the exhaustion from a mile away, his constant burden of always having to be the best, always having to be stronger and never showing weakness. It seemed like the weight was too much to bear as his fingers pressed against his temples, his breathing shallow.

"Satoru," you whispered his name-the soft tone, coaxing.

For one long moment, he didn't move, the silence between you stretching into something fragile. Then, his hands fell away, and as he looked up at you, his bright blue eyes were dim, shadows of the pressure he carried darkening them. You were the only one that he ever let see him this vulnerable, but it managed to make you love him more, the parts of him no one else got to see.

"I'm tired," he finally said, the words so quiet they almost broke your heart. "I'm tired of being…me."

You knelt before him, your hands reaching up to cradle his face. He didn't resist as your thumbs brushed against the sharp lines of his jaw, anchoring him, bringing him back into his own present. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his, your breathing mingling, soft and steady.

"You don't have to be anything right now," you whispered, your lips barely brushing his. "Just be here. With me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath, like he was letting go of all that weighed him down. His hands came up, sure, wrapping around your wrists and holding onto you like you were his anchor against spiralling.

You stood, guiding him gently to lie back on the bed; your hands steady, reassuring, coaxing him to release the weight he had been carrying for so long. He followed without protest, his tall frame folding beneath you as he rested against the pillows, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The sight of Satoru finally allowing himself to let go stirred something protective deep inside you.

You crawled over him slowly, your fingers brushing along the hem of his shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles taut with stress, and as your hands travelled up his chest you could feel the strain still coiled tightly in his body. His breath hitched and he watched you carefully, those usually playful eyes now dark and serious, searching your face for something-maybe for reassurance, for understanding.

"I love you," you whispered, the words tumbling as your lips leaned down, still hovering just over his. "Let me take care of you tonight."

His hold on your hips tightened, like he needed something to feel anchored to, a reminder that this was real and he didn't have to be everything right now, that here in this space, with you, he could let go.

You kissed him softly, your lips brushing his in a soft, unhurried rhythm. He relaxed into you, releasing some of that tension that had been strangling him under the crushing weight of responsibility. You coaxed him further into the moment, and the stress he had been feeling began slowly to seep away.

Your kisses were slow, deliberate, each to remind him of his worth beyond his strength. Your hands slid up, pushing his shirt higher until you lifted it over his head, exposing the expanse of his chest. His skin felt like fire beneath your fingertips as you trailed your palms down his torso, feeling the way his breath stuttered with every pass.

"You don't have to carry this alone," you whispered against his skin as your lips pressed kisses along the hard lines of his collarbone and down his chest. "Not with me."

"Satoru," you whispered, watching as his eyes fluttered open. He looked up at you, his gaze, so usually sharp and playful, now soft, almost glassy with exhaustion from one too many orgasms. His lips parted to say something, but no words came out, only a shaky exhale. His body jerked under your touch, sensitive and raw; every nerve in him was lit up with the overload of pleasure.

His hips shifted, trying to escape the touch of your fingers, but he was too spent to move away. A small, fractured sound escaped his lips as your hand wrapped once more around his sensitive cock.

You could feel the tension in his body fighting against it as his muscles twitched and jerked away from your touch. But even as he did, you knew he wanted more-the hitch in his breath, the subtle way his hips bucked up to still meet your hand when you’d ease up, signalled how much he needed this release.

"Shh," you whispered, your other hand resting on his thigh, fingers tracing patterns along his skin, soothing him. "I know it's a lot, but you need this, don't you? To let go, to be taken care of?" His only response was a low, guttural moan, his body shaking as you continued to stroke his cock, still coated in cum from his last orgasm.

It was relentless teasing and he could only lay there and take it, his control slipping further and further away with each second. You watched as his body trembled under your touch, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. His noises were intoxicating-a symphony of moans and whimpers that spur you on.

"That's it," you cooed low and soothing. "Just let go. I've got you."

His hips bucked, seeking more of your touch even as he tried to pull away, caught in that delicious conflict between retreat and surrender. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the energy that pulsed through his exhausted body. Despite the overwhelming stimulation, there was a raw vulnerability that made this moment all the more beautiful and you enjoyed him letting go for you like this.

Your thumb started to rub circles around the sensitive tip of his cock with a gentle pressure, and a whine escaped past his lips to music in your ears—a testament to the pleasure you were drawing from him. The tip swollen and red as you teased it, the veins along his cock pulsed beneath your fingers as heat emanated from him.

"Look at you," you whispered, your tone slathered in seduction. "So sensitive, so responsive." Your fingers teased up and down the length of his cock, pressing down on the head of it just enough for him to squirm under your touch.

"Oh god, pleaseplease," Satoru was begging, his voice shattering as he struggled to get the words out. "It's too much. I can't give another—" His body twisted under you, desperate to get away from the sensations overwhelming him. "Fuck, too sensitive—”

But even in his protesting, the burning need in his eyes let his desires be known. His cock betrayed him, twitching hard in your grasp as it strained toward your touch. You could see that he was at the brink of his tolerance level, yet he needed this-needed to let go and just forget his responsibilities.

In his overstimulated haze, he reached for you, his touch desperate as his free hand shot out, his quivering fingers closing around your wrist in search of something solid to anchor himself against this storm of sensation flooding his body. You felt the shake of his fingertips against your skin, tension coiling tight like a string pulled up to breaking.

His hips bucked again, halfheartedly trying to escape the overwhelming grip of yours, but his hold on you tightened, his body seemed torn between fleeing from the sensation and pleading for more.

"Please-ah, please-" His voice cracked, words a frantic jumble. His head fell back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, breathing hitching in uneven gasps as waves of pleasure tore through him. "It's-oh god, s'too much, I-I can't-”

His cock pulsed violently in your hand, painfully sensitive yet still desperate for release. The heat radiating off him was staggering, the tension in his muscles coiling tighter and tighter with every flick of your wrist. You squeezed his cock again, firm but gentle, and his whole body jerked, another strangled sound escaping his lips, a mix between a moan and a sob.

"You're doing so well," you whispered, your voice soft and reassuring as you brushed a damp strand of hair away from his forehead. "Just let go, Satoru. Let me take care of you."

Incoherent, needy sounds spilled from his lips as his body writhed beneath you. His hand on your wrist tightened, fingers flexing as he tried to stay as close to you as possible. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more, even as protests tumbled from his mouth.

"I love you," he suddenly babbled out, his voice raw, while fighting for control. "God, I love you so much-too much, I can't-"

He babbled and whined between shallow breaths and desperate moans, while his body was shaking wildly and he poised at the edge of release. His hand clung to yours, holding tight "I can't-" he whimpered, voice breaking, body twisting as sensations surged through him. "Please-so good I love you, can't-can't hold it anymore-"

You stroked him faster, your motions precise and deliberate. He cried out, the sound raw and broken as hips thrust upward as if in an attempt to escape the unbearable pleasure. His cock pulsed in your hand, swollen and sensitive; every stroke pushed him closer to the edge of madness.

But even as he pleaded for mercy, his body was begging for your touch as if craving that final push over the edge. Every muscle tensed as you felt him nearing the brink, surrounded by the overwhelming sensations that were flooding his senses.

"There we go, baby-" you whispered softly, reassuring him "Just let go, Satoru. You don't have to hold back.”

And that was all it took before his body convulsed with a choked sob, his hips jerking wildly as he came; the release crashed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for breath. His cock pulsed violently in your hand, spilling ropes of thick cum as he writhed beneath you, lost in the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers digging into skin as he held on, riding the waves of his ecstasy.

His voice cracked and he cried out, his body shaking uncontrollably as the overstimulation washed over him in waves, leaving him completely wrecked. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes and his breathing was ragged and uneven, but the way he held onto you, whispering your name between desperate moans, made clear this is exactly what he needed.

Still shaking beneath you, Satoru's body sagged into the bed, completely spent. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath again, his grip on your wrist loosening but still laid against your skin, a continued touch. His cock, still twitching from the aftermath of his fierce release, lay heavy in your hand, oversensitive and throbbing.

The faintest flicker of desire, even now when he could do no more, glimmered in his half-lidded eyes, glazed over and desperate for more, while his body protested. Your touch turned soft, gentle even, your fingers tracing delicate veins along his shaft. Just the light brush of your thumb over the tip had him jerk and his hips involuntarily shifted as the overstimulation was wreaking havoc inside his body.

“B-Baby-" His voice cracked, a broken plea tearing free. His breathing hitched as you let your thumb glide over the tip once more, gathering the slickness that remained. He twitched violently, his entire body tensing as he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwed shut. "I can't-oh god, please-"

But there wasn't any real protest in his voice-just that helpless, wrecked sound caught between need and surrender.

You smiled softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his temple, your other hand brushing the damp strands of hair away from his flushed face. "Just one more, Satoru," you whispered, voice gentle yet firm. "You're doing so well. Just a little more for me, please?”

A whimper escaped him as he nodded, fingers weakly clenching the sheets beneath him as your hand moved once more-slow and deliberate-teasing the sensitive tip of his cock with featherlight touches. His body tensed, muscles straining, as he let out a shaky, desperate moan and you circled your thumb over the swollen head.

You moved downwards before leaning down over him, your lips hovering just above the tip of his cock, your warm breath washing over his sensitive skin. It was intoxicating, seeing him so utterly wrecked and desperate. His body was shaking beneath yours, hips twitching as he struggled not to thrust, not to beg for more of your touch.

"Shh, just breathe," you whispered, your breath dancing across his skin and sending shivers down his spine. "I've got you."

Your tongue darted out, tracing a teasing path the length of his cock as you savoured the intoxicating taste of him. His body jolted involuntarily; a broken moan fell from his lips as your tongue teased him with little flicks that had him losing his mind. You can feel him throbbing beneath your touch, his arousal evident as you explore each inch with an utterly playful yet possessive fervour.

You focused on his sensitive tip, circling softly with your tongue as your lips wrapped around it, slowly taking him deeper into your mouth. You pulled back a little to blow on the tip and you could feel him twitch.

Shit-ah," he panted, strained and without breath. The tension swirled thick in the air. His cock ached and pulsed, the veins prominent beneath his flushed skin. You could feel the heat radiating from him, raw energy pulsating with every heartbeat, even as he struggled to cling to his composure.

Your tongue licked and teased every inch of sensitive skin. His body shuddered beneath you, tensing up and relaxing in a continuous rhythm that goaded you into working him closer to the edge. Every groan and whimper that escaped him filled the room in a symphony of pleasure and desperation that only encouraged you further.

Pretty tears streamed down his cheeks, shining like jewels as he succumbed to the sensations coursing through him. His eyes were tightly shut, and his hips bucked wildly beneath your hands, his cock throbbing with need as you tormented him with your relentless teasing.

He laid at your mercy and it was a sight you loved. His skin was glowing with that soft sheen of sweat, his chest heaving, the tears streaking his cheeks only served to heighten his vulnerability, making him all the more beautiful, all the more perfect in his unguarded state.

You took his cock in your mouth again with renewed determination as you sealed your lips around the sensitive tip. Satoru's body tensed, hips thrusting up as a desperate, broken moan ripped free of his lips. "Thank you," he gasped, strained and breathless. "Thank you, I love you. Please, I can't-oh god, I'm going to-”

His words dissolved into a chorus of whimpers and whines as you continued your relentless assault, your tongue swirling around his shaft, your lips tightening as you sucked him harder. His cock was throbbing and pulsating as he neared his peak.

With one final, desperate cry, Satoru's body stiffened, his hips bucking involuntarily as he came, his cum shooting out into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it, working hard to milk every last drop from him as his body shook and twisted from the power of his orgasm.

As the final waves of pleasure washed over him, Satoru collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, as he fought for breath. His cock, now softening, slipped from your lips, your hands gently smoothing over his hip.

You sat up and seated yourself beside him, huddling toward him to gently brush the remaining tears away from his cheeks. Your fingers lightly touched his skin, soft and soothing. "Shh, it's all right," you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring. "You did so good, Satoru.

His eyes fluttered open, looking at you in a soft, dazed gaze. You pulled him up to your chest, his head instinctively leaning against you, as you embraced him protectively. You could feel his heartbeat, with every second that passed it gradually slowed down as he composed himself.

"I've got you," you soothed him, tracing gentle patterns on his back with your fingers.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice soft and breathless, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he leaned his head up.

You pulled him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "I love you too," you said, your voice soft and full of affection. "I’m so proud of you, always."

You lay there together, warm in each other's embrace, basking in the afterglow of intimacy you had both shared. Eventually, Satoru's body breathing evened out and he burrowed deeper into your embrace until he fell into a peaceful sleep, safe and content in your arms.

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri @williamafton26

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead @szired

#ʚɞ writings #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo #kinktober jjk #kinktober #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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krys4h · 3 months ago

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𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ◞﹒୧ .

✧ ⁝ 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ◞ ྀི

— my thoughts & headcanons on how i think he would be as a lover (or not...) fluff, nsfw, hurt.

𓍯 a silent lover. the type to love in secret, hidden from sight. cold facade, worried heart for his loved ones. you feel his affection in the little things like when you feel down and he always prepares your favorite meal without a word, trying to create comfort and affection that he can't express with words. a confession would be too loud for him.

𓍯 he prefers to watch, observe and protect those he cares about behind their backs. the type to lie to you about his schedule - because it's physically impossible for him to verbalize his feelings - and go secretly confront a devil who was giving you a hard time.

𓍯 aki loves to make love to you during rainy days, forehead pressed against yours, his breath brushing your lips. it's intimate, despite the fact he run away from any emotional intimacy. he can't say i love you with his mouth, makima's shadow covering his heart and his words but he can convey his feelings in his kisses, his hands that circle around your clit, touching in spots nobody did.

𓍯 his eyes that soften only for yours will always follow you, everywhere you're going.

𓍯 he spend his night looking at you when you're sleeping, wondering why God gave him such a gift in his life but not enough time to cherish it.

𓍯 you always felt it even though it was silent. he seemed so detached from you, always careful that his eyes didn't linger on you for too long - attempt failed, they always found you -, you had to squint, see the unsaid, and understand the innuendos to perceive the love he had for you.

𓍯 it takes time. it takes time to go from a cold look when judging a stranger, to the first nods, the first half-smiles that precede the softened glances. it took him time to get used to having someone who cares for him like you do. maybe it was complicated to accept the fact that he was finally the first choice for someone, and not the forgotten youngest of his family like he always was. your warm air when you saw him coming from afar felt weird for him, almost inappropriate. when you seemed too happy to see him he couldn't help but frown at how your eyes always looked illuminated for him. weird. almost inappropriate.

𓍯 it takes time, but the slight pang in his heart he feels every time he feels your affection for him is slowly starting to disappear. he can't be openly expressive like you, but he's starting to accept it. it takes time. his love is silent when yours is so loud that it becomes overwhelming and he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

𓍯 it's understandable, everyone is dying around him. he's the only one who hasn't lost his humanity yet and mourns the deaths of those who defend the people of this city. it touches him. death scares him so much that he can't allow himself to truly get attached to someone, it would be like welcoming someone with big arms for a hug with arms full of thorns. to engulf you, to make you dive with him. no, he can't. he really can't.

𓍯 it doesn't matter how his breath hitches every time he feels when your silhouette towers over him, your hips undulating in the most exquisite way, so eager to please him. he doesn't even need to guide you with his hands on your hips, it's already too good. it doesn't matter the almost painful but sweet feeling he has in his stomach when the lights are out with the only sounds being the creaking bed and your soft breath. he feels so safe with you, you make him so wanted that he starts to think that life might be worth living outside of his desire for revenge.

𓍯 but it doesn't matter, he can't say "i love you", the poor man doesn't even manage to smile normally. there's always an awkward look.

𓍯 he was so caught up in the curse of his family's vengeance that he had closed himself off from any relationship that went beyond the professional sphere. but... it was hard not to succumb to you. he couldn't give you the bright future and romance you deserved, but he could give you the remnants of his heart he had left. working with you, doing missions and hunting devils together, and sometimes, when you were a little too drunk, kisses on the neck that would slip into panting. no commitment. that was what he could offer you. he thought it would protect him from the loss of not putting a word on your relationship, like a wall for pain. he lied to himself so much. he was already madly in love, and if he were to lose you right now, it would be the end of him.

𓍯 it was up to you to decode if the hands that brushed you at night sought only for pleasure or for your heart, because even if for a moment, you would lose control of your emotions and let your love for him express itself, an "i love you" that should have remained hidden, he would not answer it.

𓍯 aki loves you too, that's a fact. but he wouldn't let you see it. he wasn't going to make the mistake of investing too much in a relationship that was inevitably going to go badly, and make you hope. you deserved better, he thought. you were his heaven in the hell that was the daily life of a devil hunter. so dear, so precious to him.

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

#𐙚 writings 𓍢ִ🌸˙#aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #aki x female reader #aki smut #aki headcanons #aki hayakawa headcanons #aki drabbles #aki hayakawa drabbles #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #hayakawa aki #csm #chainsaw man #csm fic #aki x y/n

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lecsainz · 1 year ago

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Can u do any kind of luke imagine with maybe a daughter of hades:p

˒ ⌕ DID YOU EAT, TODAY?

parings: luke castellan x hades!reader

an: this was my first piece that my sister liked? I'm sooo happy because she's picky, and I usually have to beg her to read anything I write. yes, I know it's pathetic, but I usually don't think my writing is good, and I don't think you guys will like it. I have a bit of a validation-seeking complex (mirroball girl here 😭

summary: where, after 18 years of surviving alone, you finally arrive at camp half-blood, discovering you're a child of hades. adimist it all, a hermes' boy might find himself perhaps falling for you.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

The camp was bustling with activity, but for you, the chaos of your newfound identity as a demigod and a daughter of Hades was still settling in. The moment you were claimed upon entering the camp, it felt like your entire world had shifted. As the campers dispersed for their activities, you sought solace by the lake, needing a moment to process the overwhelming revelations.

Luke, having noticed your absence from the group, made his way to the lake with a small cupcake in hand. Blueberry, your favorite. He approached cautiously, recognizing the turmoil on your face. The daughter of Hades, a complex puzzle of emotions and powers.

"Hey there," Luke greeted, sitting down beside you. "Did you eat today?"

You looked up, your eyes still reflecting the confusion and vulnerability that came with the newfound knowledge of your divine parentage. The mere question, though simple, struck a chord within you, resonating with a sense of care that you hadn't expected.

"I... I didn't really feel like it." you admitted, your voice betraying the uncertainty.

Without another word, Luke handed you the cupcake, and the corners of his lips lifted into a reassuring smile. "Well, you should. It's blueberry – your favorite, right?"

Surprised, you glanced at the cupcake, realizing that somehow, amidst all the chaos, Luke had remembered your preference. A small, genuine smile formed on your face as you took the cupcake. "Thank you."

Taking the cupcake, you managed a small smile. The gesture was simple, yet it carried an unspoken understanding. You hesitated for a moment before taking a bite, savoring the sweetness that contrasted with the bitter reality you were grappling with.

Luke watched you quietly, and when you finally met his gaze, he reached over to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. It was a gentle touch, one that conveyed more comfort than words ever could.

"You know, being a demigod is tough, especially in the beginning," he began, his tone gentle. "But you're not alone in this. We're a family here, weird as it may be."

You chuckled, feeling a hint of warmth amidst the emotional storm. "Yeah, a family of demigods with divine parent issues."

Luke chuckled with you. "Exactly. And you've got powers from the Underworld, which is pretty cool if you ask me."

Your laughter echoed by the lake, and Luke couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within him. He looked at you, your smile contagious, and a goofy grin formed on his face. In less than 48 hours, everything you did seemed to become his favorite thing.

"See? I knew blueberry cupcakes were the way to go," Luke teased, nudging you playfully.

As you enjoyed the cupcake, the night air became a canvas for the unspoken. Luke's gaze lingered on you, studying your features. The flicker of vulnerability in your eyes and the subtle playfulness of your smile sparked something in him. His mind wrestled with conflicting thoughts. The prophecy and his allegiance to Kronos felt like a weight on his shoulders, yet the simple act of being there for you seemed to defy the inevitable.

Luke couldn't help but think he was treading on dangerous ground. The more he got to know you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, there were things worth fighting for beyond the plans of gods and Titans.

Caught in his own internal struggle, he locked eyes with you. His expression shifted between uncertainty and an undeniable connection that was forming against all odds.

And then, as if a realization hit him, you blushed, looking away. The daughter of Hades, powerful and enchanting, now bashful under his gaze. A small smile played on Luke's lips, acknowledging the unexpected turn of emotions.

"Stop," you said, your voice a blend of amusement and a blush that colored your cheeks.

"I can't help it," Luke responded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He made no effort to hide his amusement, which only intensified your embarrassment.

A playful slap on his arm was your immediate response. "Seriously, cut it out."

Luke chuckled, the sound resonating in the tranquil night. "Alright, alright. I'll behave... for now."

"Hey, Castellan! We're heading out. You coming?" The moment was interrupted by a group of Hermes cabin members calling for Luke. As he got up to join them, he glanced back at you. "You coming?"

He extended his hand towards you, a gesture so simple yet filled with unspoken invitation. With a slight hesitance, you placed your hand in his, and together you walked away, fingers intertwined.

The children of Hermes exchanged smirks, whispering amongst themselves as they watched Luke and you leave the lakeside. One of them winked at Luke, teasingly remarking, "Looks like someone's got a soft spot."

Luke shot back with a grin, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glanced at you, a sly smile playing on your lips radiating a warmth that ignited a turmoil within him. In that moment, a realization struck Luke like a lightning bolt – perhaps you were the unforeseen obstacle in Kronos' grand plan. As he stared at you, the idea that his growing feelings for you could complicate the titan's scheme loomed over him, and for the first time, Luke Castellan felt the weight of a dilemma he hadn't anticipated.

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mondaymelon · 2 years ago

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— "𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂...𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴?" ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ slight angst + comfort n fluff (oops i made kazuha’s part abnormally long) ⤷ They make you cry.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

At first, XIAO doesn’t understand that his words have cut you.

He was always one with a blunt, yet sharp tongue, never afraid to speak his mind or to criticize your actions on the slightest whim. After all, why should he be hesitant? His power is common knowledge - as an illuminated adepti, there’s few who can rival his dexterity.

But he never expected his words to hurt you. Xiao has never fully understood human emotion. He’s always isolated himself from the foreign concept, determined to separate him and such… frivolities. Emotions are for mortals, and he is not one of man. In his manner of thinking, he’s just helping you improve yourself, so why are you…

“Archons, Xiao. It’s always about my mistakes. My mistakes, over and over and…” Then your wavering voice cuts off as you swallow, hard. What did he do wrong? Why were you acting this way?

That’s when the aloof yaksha notices the crystal teardrops spilling from your eyes, running down your cheeks and staining the skin it trails. The slight hitch in your shallowed breath and the way you stray from his touch, trembling, anxiously wiping at your tears.

“...Love?” He isn’t accustomed to seeing you like this, avoidant of his gaze and so… vulnerable. “Wait, please-”

“Archons, love. Please, look at me.” Xiao takes your wrist in his gloved hand, his grasp cautious yet firm. His voice is pleading, quiet, strained with desperation.

“No, I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice shakes as he tries to meet your eye.

“Love, you are perfect. I never meant to say otherwise.” Please, believe me.

“I’m sorry. So please…” He detests the way he’s acting, heart racing so shamefully, yet still embraces you tightly, skin cold to the touch.

“Stay by my side.” ♥

KAZUHA’s eloquent wording is one that never ceases to amaze, so it’s only a twinge of misfortune that causes a misunderstanding to form.

As a poet, the way he speaks is quite ornate, a manner in which people may not comprehend. However, that’s never exactly been a problem when it comes to the communication of the two of you. You understand Kazuha, and that translates to his speech as well, so in a way, it’s only natural.

Yet…

“The show was incredible, wasn’t it?” You take Kazuha’s hand, and follow his gentle tug on yours as he leads you out of the crowd, smiling back at you. The white haired male, being the traveler he was, decided to take you for a night out in Liyue Harbor, where the two of you first ate a fine dinner, and just finished viewing a performance from the Liyue Theatre. Your heart still raced from the night’s breathtaking sights and wonders.

“Indeed it was.” He closes his eyes, a sign that he’s content, and you can’t help but widen your grin. “The main casting role, the lady with the flowing dress, was exceptionally talented. Just from the way she glided about the stage… you can tell she’s experienced, and blessed with bountiful potential.”

You nod along, albeit a little awkwardly. There’s nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to discuss such topics, but for some reason, the way he’s speaking about her just makes your insides want to crawl.

He’s still droning on, eyes sparkling. “...Then, at the final scene, when she began to sing… say, Love, why don’t you try theater? It might suit you well. Maybe one day you’d be on a stage, just like her.”

What the male meant was: try theater out, you’d do well.

But what you heard, instead, was: you should do theater too. then you could be as brilliant as her.

You hated the way it felt like he was comparing the two of you, weighing which one held more worth.

“I know! We’ll be staying here for a while, so why don’t I sign you up for…” His voice trails off as he lets go of your hand, aware of the tears that are starting to form in your wells. “Love, what… what’s wrong?”

“Kazuha… please, stop.”

“...What?” He seems genuinely clueless, but clasps but your hands in his, a worried gaze written all over his face. “No, I…”

“Please stop comparing me to her. I already know I don’t deserve you… it’s just…” Fuck, now you really couldn’t stop the way the droplets started rolling down your cheeks, stray tears falling from your eyes and splattering onto the wooden planks below. All of your discomfort seemed to infuse themselves into the shameful adrenaline that was coursing through your veins, because you had worried if you weren’t good enough for Kazuha. Someone as lackluster as yourself, going out with a handsome young swordsman, intelligent, kind… he was loved by many, and you…

“...Love, please!”

When did he get so close? He’s leaned in, concerned, crimson-eyed gaze trained onto your every movement. “What are you even thinking about, to be breathing so heavily… no, c’mon love, look at me.” And when you do, eyes meeting his, his mouth morphs into a somewhat smile. “There must’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“Because you are most certainly superior to any other person in Teyvat.”

“And of all people, you…”

“I am the one not worthy of your love, so don’t ever say that again.” ♥

SCARAMOUCHE doesn’t care at all, why should he?

He said some stuff that you took too close to heart, so what? If he hurt you, why should he fret over it? You’re strong enough to take it. All he said was one or two harsh words that merely came to mind, so there’s no need for you to be all wounded over it, either.

“Yeah, you’re pathetic.” Scaramouche scoffs at you, one hand on his waist while the free one makes sarcastic motions in the air. “You can’t even get one thing right, can you?”

The “thing” in question, in fact, was making Scaramouche dinner. You added a pinch too much salt, and now the male seemed to act like you’d committed a grave offense upon humanity… but then again, he was always dramatic, so this time shouldn’t be any different, right?

“I… I tried my best…” Your voice trails off as you cringe under his undermining glare.

“Clearly, your ‘best’ wasn’t enough.” His jeering tone is enough to make your heart shatter as you glance up at him, eyes wide. You don’t realize you’ve begun crying until you feel the sensation of tears spilling down your cheeks, falling from your eyes with silent melancholy as you seem to choke on your own words.

“Why are you… why are you crying?” You’re scared to look up at him, whatever expression he’s making, so you keep your head down, pitifully wiping your tears away.

“I’m not.”

“Sure you aren’t.” His voice is airy as he rolls his eyes, frowning at you. What, now you get to act all disheartened? What did he even do to upset you?

“I’m not crying.”

“C’mon, Kuni. It’s okay to say if you’re sad. Here, cheer up, and I’ll give you this flower, okay?”

A voice echoed in his head.

“...Huh?”

And it’s strange, really, how the sight before him mirrors one from long before. The way your eyes hold so much sorrowful desperation, the way you seem so broken inside, and most of all, the way the tears that run down your face seem achingly familiar.

“Shit.” His voice seems small, too small. “Wait, love, I-” His voice cuts off as he sighs, unsure of what to say. The beating of his anxious heart overpowers all noise.

“Love, I was… joking. I don’t mean any of it.”

“You being here is a blessing of itself.”

“Archons, please know how much I love you.” ♥

(a/n) i accidentally made xiao's part the shortest i am a disgrace to humanity

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gremlin-girly · 13 days ago

Text

Late Night

Pairing: Bucky x gn!reader (with one use of "doll")

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, mutual pining, Bucky crushing on you HARD, sleepy reader (again), friends to lovers, pet names (doll and sweetheart), a hint of angst bc of past trauma, mentions of past trauma (winter soldier), cuddling

Summary: After another late night at work, you refuse to let Bucky down and insist on still coming over to watch the movie you've both been trying to arrange a viewing of for the last few weeks. However, five minutes in you find yourself falling asleep...

Word count: 689

Not beta'd. Written this morning. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted or fed into an AI machine.

A/N: I thought of this a while ago. Am I procrastinating the final installment? Yes. 🫠 I spent two hours editing it yesterday and have found something I don't like and want changed 🙃 oh well.... it should be out by the end of this week sorry Mel

And in typical Friday the 13th fashion i have slept 4hrs, forgot to book my taxi and there's a spider currently scuttling the floor and harassing me. Please send assistance 🥲- Love, Grem x

Masterlist | Busy Morning w/ Steve | The Bucky Barnes Collection

It's said that when animals feel safe around you, they fall asleep near you. Although Bucky wasn't surprised you'd fallen asleep (you'd been working so late recently it was understandable), he was surprised when your head hit his shoulder and even more surprised when you nuzzled against him.

His heart jackhammered painfully in his chest as he tried to control his breathing. He glanced down to where you'd taken residence against him, your soft cheeks pillowing you from the hard muscles in his shoulder. God, you looked perfect even when you slept.

Bucky's heart strings seized as he smiled down at your sleeping form. You felt safe around him. The Winter Soldier had killed so many people and had been a danger to everyone. Everyone was, at least in Bucky's mind, rightfully fearful of him or at least worried about him "snapping".

Everyone but you, it seemed.

When he'd first met you, you'd greeted him with a warm smile and a quick handshake. You didn't even bat an eyelid when you'd grabbed his left hand (the metal hand, the killing hand) and continued blabbering about welcoming him to S.H.I.E.L.D officially. He knew you'd be different from that moment but he didn't realise just how different.

Your sleepiness and lack of sleep was relatable to Bucky; nightmares, nightterrors and nighttime anxiety attacks had plagued him for months. You'd shared tips with him and whilst they weren't entirely helpful at times, there was a comfort there. You were someone he could speak to freely. In fact, he hadn't even told you about the nightmare nor had you asked. One morning at the compound, making coffee in the kitchen you'd only said, "trouble sleeping? I get the feeling. Apparently cherry juice helps."

He'd playfully joked back asking if he looked that bad and you'd grinned at him saying that he was still pretty to you.

It was the first time anyone had called him pretty.

How and when he fell for you he couldn't pin point. Maybe it was that first encounter, maybe it was when you called him pretty or maybe it was ten seconds ago when you fell asleep next to him, blissfully unaware at how you somehow managed to always turn his brain to mush.

"Doll?" Bucky murmurs, nudging your pudgy cheek with his shoulder and biting back a smile when you frown at him with your eyes closed. "The opening credits have barely started and you're falling asleep."

"Hmm? Hmm." You may have been willfully ignoring Bucky in favour of sleep but the facts remained that he was warm, cosy and smelled ridiculously good. Any excuse to stay asleep like this was an excuse worth using.

Bucky sighs and flicks the TV off, scooping you gently into his arms. You make one weak sound of protest but otherwise limply fall against him.

"I'm putting you to bed." He tells you, carrying you into his room and gently setting you onto the bed.

"'M not tired." You mumble curling into his covers as he tucks you in. Your surrounded by the smell of Bucky and the all too familiar fuzzy feeling warms your chest.

"Yeah, you are." Bucky chuckles softly. "Get some sleep. We can watch the movie tomorrow."

As he moves to leave, he hears your whispered request and he pauses.

"Stay with me?"

"Uh...." Bucky swallows. What he wouldn't give to stay next to you but you're sleep-addled brain is the one making the request.

"Please?" You mumble into the covers. "You're so warm. I feel so safe with you near me."

The bed dips as Bucky concedes to your request instantly but he doesn't dare touch you, no, not until you turn until him and snuggle against his chest and grumble a sleepy goodnight does he drape his arm around you and hold you close.

It takes a while for him to fall asleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you and what it meant that you felt safe enough to sleep in his bed with him in it. But when he does finally drift, it's the best night's sleep he's had in a long while.

#gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #fluff #marvel mcu #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes collection #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader

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takes1 · 8 months ago

Text

p.2 bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. nsfw. m!masturbation at the end. midterms mentioned. minors DNI content. misinterpretation of emotions. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush. enemies to lovers. or maybe enemies with benefits, i haven't decided yet. manager!reader. tsukki being so incredibly horny. tsukki not understanding facial expressions. sexual frustration. male masturbation + implied previous. kiyoko being a friend. yachi being a friend. 1.7k words notes. 3 more parts planned! ask to be added to the taglist if you don't want to miss one! links. PART ONE HERE. PART THREE . PART FOUR. FINAL PART. masterlist for mha. my ao3. masterlist for haikyuu

Despite your iced latte being mostly just water by now, you still sucked it down in desperation to get every ounce of caffeine you could. Midterms were just around the corner and one of your most difficult classes involved writing a 10-page scientific paper.

You had the whole semester to do it, so the dread you felt now was the amalgamation of months' worth of opportunity that you could've and should've used to work on it.

Thankfully, you didn't have to churn the majority of this thing out alone.

"What the hell does ameliorate mean." Kiyoko asked, though her soft frustration was starting to sound more like a statement now.

Yachi took every opportunity she could to stop doing her work, including this one. For her, there was less pressure to do perfectly on her finals since she had another two years to get those top marks.

She scanned her laptop screen for a moment, lips perched on the lid of her strawberry refresher: "Ameliorate means... To... make something bad or unsatisfactory better."

Kiyoko muttered something about how it still didn't make sense. Of course it wouldn't- she was taking an organic chemistry course.

The plan as it stood now was to rot in this spot all day until hunger moved you, so you all made an event out of it by putting on something cute, grabbing some coffees and pastries from a cafe nearby, and settling into this local library.

It wasn't planned, but you all simultaneously chose to wear skirts and cute summer tops. The mutual reaction of humor helped ease the pain of having to study all day. Suffering together was preferable to suffering alone.

The chance finally came again to stretch your legs and find another vaguely relevant reference to add to your bibliography.

With a rewarding, careful stretch, you rose out of your chair and took your time walking up and down the aisles to find something to support the fifth theory you'd written about so far.

Midterms were one stressor, but you weren't afforded the privilege of having tunnel vision over it.

Qualifiers were just around the corner, and you had the Tokyo training camp to prepare a load of equipment and personnel logs for.

As you selected a thick novel from a shelf above your head, you let out a small sigh.

The front matter described a concept you could start to look into and fluff up to your liking for the paper. Your mind fell back to the team, and how you wanted to do well on these exams so you'd have less to worry about going to Tokyo.

The side of your face was growing warm, probably from the East-facing window to your left, so you raised the back of a cold hand to cool yourself down.

You were just deciding to take this book back when, in the process of dropping your hand, you caught a blur of blond hair and glasses in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach jolted, heart starting to race, and an uncontrollable surprise took over your features.

Tsukishima was sitting, leaned over a table on his elbows, his head twisted all the way to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You quickly looked back to the shelf and sucked in a breath. God, that must've looked so lame- you regretted every millisecond of that reaction and prayed he wouldn't ever bring it up.

He hated you. You didn't want anything to do with him. There was no pleasant exchange to get out of saying hello, or even acknowledging each other. It's not like you were friends.

Why was he even here? You started to get worried, but realized that he did ride the same train back with you after practice in the evenings.

Now you were really remembering. He got off one stop before yours and always moved to create the most space possible between you. You usually didn't see him again until he got off. Even then, you didn't care enough to look for him anymore.

You glanced back to him, expecting to now have to speak to him after you'd exchanged a mutual acknowledgment of each other's presence.

He was staring. But... that wasn't exactly the right word for it.

He was distracted. You wondered if he knew who you were, because you'd never seen him stare at you for more than a few seconds.

His brow wasn't pinched like usual. It was relaxed- in fact, everything about him was relaxed. The way his head was held in his hand, the loose grasp on his pencil, the subtle part of his lips. The lazy, yet measured scan of his eyes.

There was a reddish tint at the tips of his ears and highest points of his cheeks. It was astoundingly easy to notice, since he was so fair-skinned.

A strong chill ran up your spine when he finally made eye contact with you. Even then, it took a glance down to the book clasped against your chest, then back up for him to really notice your gaze and stiffen right up.

That new side of him vanished in an instant. It was replaced with a brief, stone-cold glower before he turned back to his own midterm work.

On the stiff walk back to your table, you smoothed your skirt out and pulled on the edge a bit before sitting back down.

It took a minute of silent sitting to even begin to unpack what you felt.

"Do I look stupid?"

Yachi instantly piped up, "Of course not! You're very pretty!"

"You really shouldn't waste your breath asking," Kiyoko glanced up at you.

It was brief but it rested your immediate insecurities.

"Why?" Yachi, once again, wanted nothing more than to just hang out and talk.

Another surge of chills. It was sickening.

You put your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Mm-mm, it's just-..." You thought to tell them, but held back at the last second, "I dunno."

Another big sigh and you were back to typing to take your mind off of it. You'd have plenty of time to see what this spun into once you were free from this academic prison. It was too confusing right now.

Kiyoko didn't read into it, but Yachi lingered until 1) it was obvious you simply didn't want to disclose and 2) an abnormally tall boy from school walked past your table. She watched him watch you on his way towards the exit.

Her eyes narrowed with keen intuition.

the keen intuition in question:

Kei felt himself practically melt against the closed door of his bedroom. Breathless from a difficult and quick walk home, he fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants and the lock on the door concurrently.

"Finally," He sighed with a desperate laugh, "Fuck..."

His bag hit the floor with a sharp and careless thump. He stepped over it and fell onto his back on his mattress, a long arm stretched toward his side table for some lotion.

It was useless trying to study after that. Library or home, it didn't matter unless he could fuck this one out.

This time he didn't have to stalk your Instagram to spark his imagination; it was already running rampant with filthy ideas of what he'd do to you in that short skirt.

An ignored, aching erection sprang out of his waistband as he pushed it down and out of the way.

Light grey sweatpants had (for the first time in his life) ended up being a shit idea. All he could worry about on the 20 minute walk back was if anyone could see the tip of his cock tucked up just under his shirt.

Every shirt was too short. Every pair of pants was too big in the middle.

His slippery hand was beautiful relief. He was quick to get himself lubricated, and quicker to pump in slow, twisting motions to the image of you reaching, reaching, reaching up to that book on your tippy toes.

All the worry in his tight brow washed away in crashing waves of steady-growing pleasure.

Soon he didn't care about the harrowing journey home, the threat of midterms, nor the growing dread of that training camp.

It was just you.

It felt like fate that he got the only chance anyone might ever have to see the curve of your ass just under the hem of your skirt. You were able to get that book all too quickly.

If everything were different, he would've gotten it for you. You would've thanked him, kissed him on the cheek- he would've pulled you in for a heated, raunchy kiss with a hand palming you closer. He would've savored the view of you spread on the table for him -homework long forgotten- and his massive hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. It was a library, after all.

He seethed and stalled for a moment--, "a-ahh- Mm..."

His cock twitched hard with the need to cum, but he stopped just soon enough.

An oversized hand was holding the base; he looked at his other dry one, then closed his eyes in an eager but fruitless attempt to visualize just how they'd look on your thighs. Fuck, anywhere at this point.

Just one touch, that's all he wanted. He never let himself get close enough to even consider it, but my god, the internal struggle he made to stay away was commendable.

His tight, lightly sweaty stomach flexed with effort as he slowed down again.

You were so quick to switch up when it came to him. He could tell he had a special place in your heart, the way your lips pursed into a small frown and your eyes narrowed when he tested you.

It was out-of-this-world cute from his vantage point. A smile might just kill him.

"Mmm, fu-ck," He croaked, mind circling back to today.

His chest swelled with a shaky inhale- he smirked at the thought of you finding out about his terrible secret, how you would punish him for his unprofessional behavior. You were so pretty when you got mad.

The breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even thinking about the skirt when he finally came all over his stomach. Just that pretty face of yours did it for him.

taglist:

@hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

thanks for the support!!

reply to be added!

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

Note

Hey could i request a fic?

Maybe one where teenreader who plays for barça or arsenal gets a nose piercing behind alexia or leahs back ?

just putting this in the same universe and reader as stuck tiny silver flash II barça femeni x teen!r

"there is one other place i wanna go!" you piped up as jana had her car keys in hand, both her and bruna's arms laden with shopping bags as you motioned for them to follow you.

"pollito is this going to take long? i think my arms are going to fall off!" bruna groaned as you rolled your eyes. "nobody told you to buy half the clothes in here bru, sounds like a you problem." you quipped making jana snicker and her best friend kick at her with a scowl.

"what are we doing here? are you getting a hair cut?" jana questioned with a frown as you stopped outside a local salon. "oo you should get bangs! or dye it pink, or blue, or purple, or red, or-" bruna started to ramble before jana's free hand covered her mouth with a sigh.

"not exactly." you smiled innocently as both of their eyes narrowed. "why do i get the feeling we're being dragged into one of her little trouble making schemes." bruna mumbled to jana once her mouth was freed again, jana nodding tiredly in agreement as they both continued in after you.

"wait here, i won't be long." you promised as a worker guided you off and out of their sights. "should we have let her go off with a stranger? is that bad babysitting? was that responsible?" bruna questioned after a minute had passed, jana just shrugging as the two of them took a seat just outside the store on a bench in the middle of the shopping complex.

though when you finally resurfaced it confirmed her question that yes, this was in fact bad babysitting.

"dios mio what is that in your face pequeña!" you rolled your eyes as jana dropped her bags and hurried over to grab your cheeks, turning your head left and right with wide eyes.

"its just a nose stud compañero!" you brushed off both her and bruna's fussing. "how did you do this? did you forge someones signature?" jana questioned again in disbelief. "fraud is a crime pollito, you could go to prison!" bruna added on with a gasp as again your eyes rolled.

"relájese! está bien chica's. you have to be eighteen for a tattoo, sixteen for a piercing." you corrected with a grin, having been planning this for awhile now.

"they are going to kill you so i hope it was worth it pollito." bruna sighed and she didn't have to drop a name for you to know exactly who she was talking about. "i will hide it till it heals, then if they make me take it out it will not close, ningún problema." you shrugged carelessly.

"but you cannot take it out for a few weeks while it heals, sí? what about games? training? you also live with capi!" jana asked, crossing her arms and staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

"engaño." you smiled patting to your shopping bag full of makeup, patting them both on the cheek and striding off toward the exit.

"dios mio jana i was right. she has dragged us into one of her little schemes! estamos tan muertos." bruna moaned throwing her head back and dragging her hands down her face.

"hey! listen to me amiga." brunas eyes widened as jana balled her top in her fists, holding her tightly and yanking her forward so they were nose to nose, the fear obvious in both their eyes.

"the story you posted today? delete it. the ticket for the parking? burn it. the new clothes you bought? hide them. nobody can ever, ever, ever know we brought her here bruna. vale?" jana warned sternly as bruna nodded frantically and her best friend let her go as they hurried after you.

"oye, compañero i think this might be worse than when we got her and vicky drunk at bowling and they threw up everywhere." "imbécil! bruna what part of 'never speak of it again' do you not understand??"

you'd managed to keep your secret for a whole whopping two days by the time training rolled around, which was a god given miracle considering you lived full time with your hawk eyed captain.

careful makeup blending and a flesh colored band aid you'd cut into a tiny circle had served well to hide your new addition, making sure to keep alexia at arms length so she couldn't get close enough to really look at you.

though she was so busy preparing for the weekends match and all the media that came with the el clásico it wasn't hard to slip under her radar for once.

but there was one person you worried might be able to see through your attempted deception, and of course she was the first person you ran into that morning at training, considering she had a nose piercing of her own.

trusting you enough to find your way to the change rooms once inside alexia had left you to your own devices as she hurried off for a quick meeting with all the captains, as was tradition the last session before a game.

"bon dia pollito!" you tried not to tense as aitana appeared beside you, having parked a few cars down in the lot from alexia. "hola tana." you greeted her with a smile, quick to snap your head back forward, grateful she was on your left side and the hidden stud on your right.

the two of you made small talk about your days off as you wandered through the training complex toward the change rooms, the girl of course taking every opportunity to tease you were shorter than her, something that was not very common for the midfielder in a team full of leggy spaniards and scandi's.

but as you turned to push her away and she tried to grab you in a headlock, you gave yourself up by accident.

"espere." the smile dropped from her face and you deflated as she grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back and immediately spotting the backing of the stud in your nostril with a small gasp of surprise.

"tana!" you whined trying to pull away as her grip tightened and she shook her head before letting you go. "estúpida, is this new?" aitana questioned, sending you a warning glare not to be dishonest.

"maybe." you mumbled, giving her a smile as charming as you could muster as she hummed and went to walk off. "don't tell anyone, por favor tana por favor! i will do anything." you zipped around to block her path and begged, clasping your hands together.

"anything?" "anything, promesa! just do not tell, especially not alexia." you pleaded desperately. "vale pollito, i will keep your little secret." aitana started as you breathed out in relief.

"but, for a price." aitana smiled and the twinkle in her eyes had your guard up a little but you knew she had you against the ropes. “and what’s that?” you asked albeit apprehensively.

“no more messing with my things, no more letting mapi mess with my things, no more waking me up on the bus or the plane or the train with the ‘oh tana im bored entertain me!’, no more kicking the ball at my head or the back of my seat, no more squirting water at me and no more giving me the finger with the ‘oh look tana a bird!’. vale?” the older girl raised an eyebrow sternly as you nodded rapidly.

“vale, vale, vale. gracias!” you sighed in relief, squishing her in a hug as she chuckled and patted your back before you let her go, the two of you resuming your walk to the change rooms.

entering the change rooms you flashed a few smiles around as you sat at your cubby, pulling off your trainers and stashing them away as you rifled through your training bag trying to find the medical tape you knew was in there, your ankle a little tight today.

"bon dia pequeña mentirosa." a body dropped next to you, mapi grinning and kissing your cheek as you gagged jokingly and pushed her away, her locker next to yours.

"stop that. i will do it!" mapi rolled her eyes at your attempts to tape up your ankle, pulling your leg up onto her lap as you handed the tape. "something troubling you pollito?" mariona dropped down on your other side with a concerned frown.

"no, just a little tight today." you shook your head as now both older girls gave you a look, mapi strapping up your ankle. "está bien. if it feels off at all i will go see the physios, happy?" you looked between them as they nodded, mario messing up your hair and heading off for the pitch.

eyes roaming around the now half empty change rooms you caught aitana's eye who was talking with keira, and judging from the very slight narrow of the english womans eyes as they studied your face for a mere second or so longer than normal, you knew right away what they were discussing.

you shook your head at the midfielders, aitana sending you an apologetic smile and hurrying off before you could say anything, dragging keira along with her as you prayed to the high heavens both girls kept their mouths shut.

"what?" mapi chuckled seeing the strange look on your face, finishing up your ankle and glancing over her shoulder to try and see what you were looking at. "nothing, gracias maps." you smiled, pulling your leg back down.

"ingrid!" you called out to her girlfriend who was passing by, the norweigan raising an eyebrow as you held up a hair brush and smiled charmingly. "you could not have asked alexia at home?" ingrid chuckled as mapi kissed her cheek briefly and headed off to the pitch.

"alexia cannot even do her own hair, takes her about half an hour to slick it up into a ponytail." you rolled your eyes as ingrid started to brush through your hair, a comfortable silence falling between both of you as the rest of the team slowly filtered out.

"the baby can't do her own hair? awww." lucy teased, playfully kicking at your ankles with a grin as you tried to grab at her but winced as ingrid tugged on your hair in warning, still halfway through braiding it.

"oni!" you called out to your friend who turned around. "your girlfriend needs her leash and collar, she's acting out again." you sniped, lucy squaring up to you before ona rolled her eyes and pulled her away, chatsizing her quietly as lucy sent you a menacing glare as you gav her a fake scared face.

"you need to stop hanging around with maría so much liten, she is a bad influence." ingrid tapped your shoulders as she finished your hair. "she's your girlfriend!" you laughed as you stood, tucked into her side as the taller girls arm draped across you.

"i know, and every day she gives me reason to question why." ingrid sighed as you bumped into her. "no way, you two are so in love its disgusting." you gagged as ingrid playfully reached round to pinch your cheek.

"you will be in love one day liten, and i will be sure to remind your future partner that you think love is disgusting!" ingrid teased, letting go of you as you both smiled and gave a good morning to the social media admin filming the training arrivals.

"how do you know i'm not in love now? or that i will need a future partner?" you gave her a cheeky smile as her eyes widened. "are you-" you'd raced off before she could ask her question, the girl yelling after you that this conversation wasn't over.

"hola!" you launched yourself and near took jana down to the ground, her hands grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up into a proper piggyback with a grunt.

"i was thinking things were too quiet pollito, i was hoping you were sick and we might get a day off from babysitting." jana sighed dramatically as you scoffed. "babysitting! you need babysitting not me." you accused making her chuckle.

"i have to say pollito, you did a good job. if i did not know that you had the stud, i would not notice." bruna marvelled as jana promptly dropped you and grabbed the pair of you by the shirt, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

"what part of we do not speak of it did you not understand? nobody can know we took her there or that we knew about the stud!" jana warned bruna sternly who huffed and tried to pray her hands off her top.

"and you will not tell a soul we knew about it amiga, vale?" jana turned to you now, letting go of bruna and raising an eyebrow when you didn't speak, a roll of your eyes and a nod following.

"perfecta. remember compañero's, when in doubt; deny, deny, deny."

now your makeup and band aid combo may have done the trick for training, nobody batting so much as an eyelid of suspicion toward you.

but what you hadn't accounted for was your teammates being...themselves.

case in point; the water fight which broke out after training was finished.

you didn't think much of it at first, ducking out of the way of mapi's attack and launching your own on cata, laughing as patri and pina used you as a human shield, spraying lucy and mario over your shoulder as you copped the brunt of their own counter attack.

"vale! that is enough for today." alexia yelled out over the squabbles, though there was a hint of a smile on her face and you hadn't missed her spray her own bottle at a few of the younger girls when they weren't looking.

distracted by the feeling of your now soaking wet training top clinging uncomfortably to your body you snatched a towel off mapi, drying your face and arms and not giving it a second though.

that was when there was a tiny silver flash as your stud caught the sun and all hell broke loose.

"what is that?!" "a piercing?!" "who did that to you?!" "what did you put in your face?!" "you put a hole in your skin?!" "who said you could do that pollito?!"

your eyes widened at the questions fired at you one after the other, shrinking into yourself and starting to back away as the older girls advanced, mouths moving at rapid pace.

"don't you dare!" paños grabbed the back of your collar, snagging you as you tried to bolt, a hiss of pain leaving your mouth as alexia grabbed your ear next, dragging you inside and all sorts of angry spanish leaving her mouth.

"sit!" alexia pushed you to sit down at your cubby, flanked by ingrid, paños, irene and frido all glaring down at you. "when?" irene asked sternly as you huffed. "when what." you tried, the stony glares causing your stomach to flip.

"acting cute won't get out out of this one älska. the truth! now." frido warned sternly as you sighed, catching a few of the younger girls watching on curiously, but they all scattered as alexia met them with a hard stare.

"i got it on monday." you answered, looking down at the ground and pulling one knee to your chest, picking at your laces. "where?" alexia asked sharply. "a hair salon." you shrugged still refusing to look up but feeling their eyes burn into you.

"why?" ingrid questioned next. "looks cool and i can." you mumbled with a roll of your eyes. "don't you roll your eyes, drop the attitude." alexia warned as you huffed and mocked her quietly under your breath, whining as her hand smacked the back of your head.

"that hurt!" you rubbed it with a scowl as she now rolled her own eyes. "cannot have hurt more than putting a needle through your face pequeña." irene added on with a scoff as you fell silent again.

"i think it looks badass pollito." pina piped up from a few seats down, paling at the looks it earned her and hurrying over to hide behind patri.

"sí i agree, makes her look tough. which is hard with this cute little baby face!" mapi cooed as she appeared now, pinching your cheeks and admiring the small stud with a nod of approval that had you grinning.

"maría! stay out of it." alexia barked as the girl rolled her eyes, one of the few who wasn't scared (most times) of your fierce captain. "why? she is sixteen now. i had ear piercings at five!" mapi brushed off the issue ignoring her girlfriends eyes baring into her.

"ear sí, not face!" alexia scoffed crossing her arms across her chest. "its not like i got a forehead piercing, so dramatic." you muttered, shrinking and shuffling across a little closer to mapi at the glares which met it

"would you like to say that a little louder?" ingrid sent you a challenging look as her girlfriend wrapped an arm around you. "leave the nena be, it is one little stud. relajarse!" mapi waved them off again.

"who took you to get it nena? you do not drive." paños asked firmly as you couldn't help but let your eyes flicker briefly to jana and bruna who were frantically shaking their heads and waving their arms about. "deny, deny, deny!" jana mouthed at you.

but all it took was that brief millisecond for irene's head to snap around, catching both younger girls in the act as they froze. "you went shopping with the idiotas on monday!" alexia realised as now her head snapped around.

"we didn't know she was gonna do it we took our eyes off her for like a minute and she came back with it! promesa!" bruna blurted out as jana winced and smacked her hand against her forehead.

"you are the worst secret keeper ever!" jana hissed, both of them sprinting off as paños and irene chased after them. "you are taking it out älska." frido stated bluntly as you frowned. "no way!" you protested with a shake of your head.

"yes way. we can do this the easy way or the hard way älska, your choice." the swede warned as alexia and ingrid hummed their agreement and seeing them start to advice mapi's arm left you and she slid slowly away.

"mapi!" you gasped as she darted away. "traitor and a coward!" you yelled after her as she made a heart with her hands and hid behind lucy who rolled her eyes and pushed her away.

"easy or hard nena, choose." alexia warned firmly as you shook your head. "its not coming out, i paid for this!" you decided firmly, standing and holding your head high, hearing a few of the other girls whistle and shake their heads at your words.

"you get her legs, i get her arms, ale takes it out." frido instructed, all three girls nodding as you attempted a getaway, trying to climb up and over the small retaining wall of your cubby but being promptly dragged back down and restrained.

"did you even wash your hands! this is unsanitary alexia i could get an infection!" you yelled trying to squirm away but with no luck as alexia held your head still with one hand and you winced as with one little twist she'd plucked the stud from your nose.

"when we get home i'm searching your room for any other studs and they are being flushed down the toilet. get your bag!" alexia warned as you kicked away ingrid and frido with a scowl. "you're both on my list." you warned seriously, cata and salma oooohing at your words.

"you don't scare us liten." ingrid laughed unbothered, frido mirroring her expression with a smirk. "remember when mario lost an eyebrow? she was on my list." you spoke calmly, packing your belongings up.

"or when pina's cubby had that awful ant infestion? or patris car tyres kept magically deflating? also on my list." you slung your bag over your shoulder, smiling at the somewhat apprehensive looks now present on the tall scandis face.

"adios, traitors." you patted their shoulders as you passed, following after alexia. "pollito are we still on for-" mapi fell silent as your head whipped toward her. "you are also on the list, maría." you warned calmly, narrowing your eyes.

"i helped you create that list!" mapi gasped in disbelief. "sí, and now the student has become the master." you pointed at her menacingly, alexia growing impatient and grabbing you by the straps of your bag hauling you out of the change room.

"vamos pequeña, stop threatening everyone." alexia chuckled dragging you out with her to the carpark as you waved goodbye to a few of the staff, the older girl amused at how quickly your demeanor changed.

"they were not threats, they were promises." you huffed with a deep frown, kicking at a rock. "are you going to be moody and pouty all afternoon over a tiny little stud? estúpida." alexia cooed as you glared at her, sliding into the now unlocked cupra and tossing your bag in the back.

"do you want to be on the list ale?" you warned, shrinking at the fierce glare which it rewarded you with. "discúlpame?" the blonde asked scarily calm with a raised eyebrow. "nothing, lo siento." you mumbled sinking into her seat as she smirked and started up the car.

"buena nena, thats what i thought you said."

#woso community #woso #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #pollito

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froggiewrites · 3 months ago

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i love your writing so much and im so glad you opened requests!! :) i would love if you wrote a fic about zoro being dominant (maybe some spanking/spitting?) him having a dirty mouth, and perhaps some edging? i have another idea that i'll send in a diff message too! even if you dont choose this one i look forward to reading the others <3

I've never written anything with a lot of dirty talk or dominance before, but I tried my best, and I hope I did it justice! 😊

Playing Rough

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're being terribly stubborn, insisting on fighting battles you can't handle. Zoro decides to put you in your place. Warnings: Smut, Dom Zoro, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Slight Edging, Begging Word Count: 2.4k

It was a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have happened.

The battle you had been through was rough, sure, but you didn’t take any damage that wouldn’t heal. Zoro had insisted you not fight on your own, not take on any challenge you couldn’t handle, and you had insisted that you were more than capable of handling it. And you were. You came home, didn’t you? And the bruises might be nasty and the stitches weren’t terribly fun either, but you were in one piece. You had managed to hobble your way back to the ship on your own, and you didn’t even collapse before making it into Zoro’s arms.

You were too out of it to comprehend the words he said, though you understood the panic and fear in his tone well enough. And you certainly understood the words he spoke when you first woke up.

“Are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could truly get angry, his arms were around you, crushing you against his chest. You can feel a slight tremor as he takes a deep breath, nose buried in your hair, taking in your scent, your warmth, any evidence that you are here with him and alive. He takes a shuddering inhale, the closest thing to weakness you’ve ever heard from him, before his voice comes back again, rough and absolutely furious. “You almost died.”

“I didn’t almost die.” You try to say it sweetly, soothingly, but his fingers tighten in a way that is less than kind.

“You almost died. You went even though you knew you shouldn’t, and you almost died. I almost lost you.” His voice isn’t shaking, not quite, but you swear you feel the tremor anyway. Zoro is not a man easily rattled, yet somehow you have shaken him to his very foundation.

“You could never lose me, Zoro. I knew what I was doing, I promise.”

“You knew the risk you were taking?”

“Yes. But I had to do it.” You bring a hand up to run through his hair. “I knew I would come back. I knew what I was doing, and I knew I was strong enough. I promise.”

You’re suddenly devoid of his warmth as he pulls away, glaring at you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Chopper said if you got back even a few minutes later…” He trails off, clenching his teeth.

“But I didn’t,” you insist. “Everything turned out fine, Zoro.”

“Do you think that’s all that matters?”

“Kind of!”

He huffs. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stalks out of the room, slamming the door as he leaves. You throw yourself back onto the bed, wincing as you realize your ribs are very much broken. Every inch of you is bruised, and it hurts to breathe. But it was worth it. He would understand that eventually. Not every fight has a pretty ending, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t finish them.

He did not understand, as it turns out.

He still helped you as you healed, your dear protector always carrying you so gently, so purposefully. But you could feel the distance, the tension. Neither of you acknowledged it, focusing on your health first and foremost, but it haunted every moment you two were together. Touches were fleeting, conversation was sparse. But finally, finally, today you have been officially given a clean bill of health by Chopper.

“You’re cleared for everyday activity, but I still want you to stay out of fights for a while. And don’t do anything that reckless again!” Chopper’s words are law when it comes to your health, so you’ll do your best, but you can’t help but think of how no one else on this ship would follow such instructions.

“I’ll try.” No promises you can’t keep, and Chopper purses his lips a little when he realizes, but after a moment he simply nods. He’s used to patients even more stubborn than you, of course.

As you leave the office, ready to get back to your regular life, you’re instantly met by Zoro’s broad chest as he pulls you into him.

“You’re fine now?” There’s a tension to his voice you don’t fully understand.

“I–yeah? I guess?”

“Good.” He throws you over his shoulder, not exactly gently, now that he knows being rough with you won’t open your stitches.

“What are you doing?” You try to pull yourself up to see where he’s taking you, but he gives you a quick swat on the ass that makes you squeak as you fall limp again.

“You’ll see.” He jogs down a hallway you only recognize right before you reach your destination: his room. When the door slams shut behind you, enclosing you in darkness, it almost sounds like a death knell.

He throws you onto the bed carelessly, pushing a hand onto your stomach to keep you from bouncing. His other hand makes quick work of your pants as you squirm, not out of fear but out of pure confusion.

“Zoro? What’s going on?”

“We have a conversation to finish.” His voice is flat. You don’t need to ask him which conversation. You know damn well which one. He’s finally rid you of your pants, throwing them carelessly to the floor, and he begins to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“Is that what this is going to be? A conversation?”

He hums. “No, I guess not.” His callused hands are rough against your bare skin as he unhooks your bra and grabs your breasts. “You aren’t going to be doing much talking, today. It’s finally time for you to listen.” He kneads your chest for a moment, pinching harshly, before he moves to slide off your panties.

“Listen?” Your voice is a little strained as you feel his fingers slide against your bare skin for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah, listen. You weren’t willing before, so I have to try something else.” He flips you over before pulling you onto his lap, ass in the air. “Make you remember our roles here.”

“Our roles?”

“Yeah. I’m the protector of the ship, of our crew. That’s my job.”

“Oh? And what’s mine?”

“In general? To survive. Right now? To take what I give you.”

“And what are you giving me?”

“Do you think you’re in a position to interrogate me right now?” His hand grabs one of your ass cheeks, an attempt to remind you exactly who’s in charge. And you know, of course, who’s in charge here. But that doesn’t mean you can’t push him.

“You’ve been answering, haven’t you?” You can’t keep the mischief out of your voice.

He chuckles in spite of himself. “Yeah, I have. I’m being too nice, aren’t I?” His voice gets a little deeper, an intensity creeping in. “I’ll give you one more, as a treat. I’m giving you exactly what you’ve earned, for acting so fucking recklessly. And then, if you’re good? I’ll give you my cock. I’m sure you want it, hm? All cooped up in the infirmary for weeks, thinking about it, knowing you can’t have it. I bet it’s been driving you insane.”

With that, you feel the sharp sting of his hand as he brings it down. It makes you cry out as it connects with your soft flesh, but you know he isn’t using even half of his strength, holding back, somehow taking care of you even now. You feel him harden when he does it, though you can’t tell if it’s from the sound you make or from the action itself. Maybe both. His hand gently caresses the growing handprint, a moment of tenderness, before he raises his hand again and you tense.

“Just relax, sweetheart. It can’t be any worse than what you put us through.” Another smack, this one on the other cheek, and another, and another, alternating each time. You can’t help the small squeaks and whines you let out, and Zoro can’t hide the effect they have on him, breathing growing heavier and smacks becoming more intense as you both lose yourselves.

“That’s it. One more. You can take one more.”

“Ah!”

“That’s right. Another. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re practically dripping.” You clench your thighs together, trying to hide the fact that he’s right, about this, about the fight, about everything here. When you try, he tuts, bringing his hand down yet again, making you jolt. “Don’t go hiding yourself from me, pretty thing. You’re mine, every inch of you. You can’t hide a thing from me. Can you say it for me, sweet thing? Admit that you’re mine?”

“I’m yours, Zoro!”

“And that I was right?”

“You were—ah!” His hand comes down again, but you force your way through. “You were right, Zoro!”

“There we go.” His hands finally stop, coming to rest on your red and stinging ass. “Was that so hard to admit?”

You keep silent, your stubbornness still carrying you through.

He laughs at you. “You know, I could add a bit to your punishment for not answering. But,” his fingers find your entrance, wet and waiting, “I think you’d probably like that, huh?”

You hum, pushing your face into the bed, trying to hide your red face and ears. He lifts you up, pulling you up into a sitting position, holding your chin and forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Hiding again? You really liked your punishment, didn’t you? As much as I’d love to continue, that’s not all I had in store. So eyes on me.”

He quickly strips off his shirt before easily lifting you with one arm so he can slide off his pants. As he does, you can see a wet spot where you were resting. It’s a little mortifying, realizing how easily he can turn you to putty in his hands, literally dripping wet for him. Your embarrassment quickly subsides when he frees his cock, red and twitching, and you realize you hold just as much sway over him as he does over you. He lines himself up with your entrance, ready to give you exactly what you want.

As he slowly slides you down on his cock, you let out a moan, and he groans in response. His eyes are locked onto where your bodies meet, taking in the sight of you stretching around him. “Fuck, you take me so perfectly. Like you were made for me.”

Once he’s fully sheathed in you, you both take a moment to breathe in, enjoying the feeling of this first sweet stretch. The second you breathe out, he begins to bounce you roughly, making you squeak. “Oh, you thought I was going to go easy on you now?” He laughs, continuing his fast pace, fingertips digging into your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, pretty thing. Bouncing on my cock just like that.”

One hand leaves your hips, moving up your body, finding its place at your chest. He pinches your nipples, making you squeal, before he leans forward, breathing heavily in your ear. “God, when you squeeze around me like that…” he squeezes your chest again, moaning. “You kill me, sweetheart.”

His hips continue to snap harshly into yours, pounding relentlessly as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and leaving a mark that clearly defines you as his. You can feel the heat rising as your orgasm builds, your sounds growing more wanton and desperate as Zoro begins to pound into you even faster, and faster.

And then it stops.

“Wha–”

You can feel the rumble of his chest against your back as he laughs. “Oh, did you think I was going to just give it to you?”

“I–But–I was good,” you say petulantly. Your voice is still a half whine as you try to ground yourself, the tension in your body slowly unraveling and leaving nothing but a cold dissatisfaction.

“Hm.” He presses his cheek to your shoulder, humming as though he’s thinking. “Well. Maybe if you beg you can cum on my cock. If you’re real sweet about it.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the frantic cry leaves your mouth. “Please, please, please Zoro can I cum? Please?”

“Hm. I think you can do better.”

“Please, can I cum on your cock, Zoro! Please, I need you, please!”

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

His fingers find your clit, rubbing circles around it. He enters you again, pace slower this time, but strokes deep and deliberate. You can feel every inch of him as he pulls in and out, feel the heat of his breath on your ear, hear his quiet moans as you clench around him. He will give you your release, but not as quickly as you want it. You’ll get it on his terms.

Even still, you reach your precipice quickly, and he whispers huskily in your ear. “Are you ready?”

You’re beyond all practical thought at this point, but you still manage two simple words. “Yes! Please.”

“Alright then, pretty thing. Cum for me.” With one final thrust, one final movement of his fingers, you do, gushing around him as the world shatters. You’re panting, desperate for breath, but you can’t seem to make your lungs listen to you over the symphony of pleasure you’re drowning in. Right as you manage to regain some control of yourself, you can feel Zoro go tense beneath you before you feel him spill inside of you, filling you to the brim as he quietly moans out your name.

You both sit together a moment, you limp in Zoro’s arms as he falls back onto the bed, before he speaks up.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again. Really.” His arms wrap around you a little tighter. “I…I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I won’t do it again, Zoro, I promise.” Your voice is weak, but you look up to see a sincere smile creep onto his face and you know he heard you. “...Are there other things that might get me punished like this? Less deadly things?”

He laughs. “Oh, there are plenty. And I’m sure you’ll do them all.” His hand runs through your hair affectionately. “But I’ll find more excuses to spank you later. I think you need some rest.”

With that, you two simply lay together, the only sound in the room your quiet breaths and the sound of Zoro’s heartbeat, growing slower and slower as you both drift off.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #zoro x you #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #x reader

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caitified · 2 months ago

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OMG YAY ! i don’t see much content for azzi here it’s kind of sad💔 it’s my first time requesting but maybe azzi and reader used to date but broke up because reader went abroad for some time. so azzi starts dating paige after a while but reader comes back and azzi gets confused/conflicted🙏🙏

confused

azzi fudd x reader

warnings:none, but i didn’t read abroad when i first saw your request so sorry about that!

the last night of high school had a bittersweet magic, like the twilight of a long, perfect day. azzi leaned against your car, her eyes a warm blend of laughter and anticipation as she looked at you under the stars.

“we did it,” she said softly, her hand reaching for yours. “after all these years, we’re finally here.”

you squeezed her hand, the familiar warmth of her skin sending a rush through you. azzi had been your everything since middle school, the kind of love people wrote about. and even though she was going to uconn and you’d soon be on the other side of the country at stanford, there was something fierce and hopeful in both of you. you’d make this work—long distance, time zones, anything. you both promised.

but in the weeks that followed, distance crept in slowly, like shadows at dusk. phone calls turned shorter, text messages went unanswered longer, and instagram kept you updated more on her life than she did herself. it was paige who started appearing in those updates the most. paige, laughing with her. paige, meeting her after practices. paige, cheering her on from the stands. paige, who understood her world of basketball in a way you couldn’t.

months passed. your heart grew accustomed to the ache, hoping it would be worth it. until, finally, you’d had enough.

it was a late saturday night when you texted azzi, a small hope sparking that she’d call back. an hour went by. then two. you waited until her online status disappeared into nothing. the silence pressed against you, suffocating.

the breakup was long overdue, yet when it happened, it still felt sudden. you sent a simple message: i think we both deserve better than this. i love you, azzi, but i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay. maybe it’s time we let go.

she responded with a long, agonizing pause. and then, one final text: i understand. i’m so sorry.

for a long time after, it felt like your world had shrunk. but you focused on school, throwing yourself into new friendships and routines. azzi stayed in the background of your life, just out of sight. you saw the news when she and paige became official, saw their faces together across sports feeds, but by then, you were already halfway to moving on.

three years later, standing in the crowded arena in san francisco, you didn’t expect to see her. the golden state valkyries had just announced azzi’s draft, and the crowd buzzed with excitement as she jogged out, looking as stunning and determined as ever. seeing her was like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart.

as she moved through the crowd after the event, signing autographs and hugging teammates, your eyes met hers. time seemed to freeze. she looked at you as though she was seeing a ghost, her face a mix of shock, wonder, and something else.

“hey,” you managed, stepping forward. “congratulations, azzi. you… you made it.”

azzi blinked, regaining her composure. “hey yourself,” she said, her voice soft. “i didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“i live here now,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “life happened.”

a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “yeah, i guess it does.” she glanced over her shoulder, where the crowd still buzzed, and then back at you. “do you have time to catch up? maybe coffee?”

a moment’s hesitation flickered within you. but then you nodded. “sure. coffee sounds good.”

the cafe was quiet, a small place nestled into the heart of the city, far enough from the hustle of the arena that it almost felt hidden. azzi had chosen a table in the corner, a place where the dim lighting and soft music blurred the line between memory and reality.

you sat across from her, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, catching glimpses of her across the table. time had changed her. she was leaner, sharper somehow, the softness of high school replaced by something refined. but there were hints of the girl you once knew—the curve of her smile, the way she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. little things that made your heart clench.

“so… stanford, huh?” she broke the silence, her voice careful, like she was stepping over broken glass.

“yeah. decided to go all in with the academics,” you replied, trying to keep things light. “and you… uconn and now golden state? i knew you’d make it big.”

she laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “it’s been a wild ride. sometimes i still don’t believe it.”

a silence settled between you two, one that felt almost comfortable. it was strange, sitting there with someone who once knew you better than anyone else, and yet now felt like a stranger.

“i saw you with paige,” you said, finally breaking the silence. you kept your tone steady, not accusing, just… curious.

she looked down, her hands wrapped around her cup. “yeah. we… got together after you and i broke up. she was there for me when i was struggling, you know? uconn was intense, and i didn’t know anyone. she made it feel like home.”

there was no bitterness in her voice, just honesty, and somehow that made it hurt less. you had seen it coming; even back in high school, there was something between azzi and paige that was easy and natural, something that used to make you feel like you were on the outside.

“i’m glad,” you said quietly. and you meant it, even if part of you wondered what might have happened if things had been different.

you talked about everything that night—your time at stanford, her life at uconn, the struggles, the triumphs. it was as if the years between you faded with each word, each laugh. and as the hours stretched on, that familiar warmth started creeping back in, like a flame rekindling.

when it was finally time to go, azzi walked you to your car. there was a soft breeze, and the night felt impossibly still.

“it was really good seeing you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. there was something in her eyes, something that made your heart race, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself that she had someone waiting for her.

“you too,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “congrats again, azzi. you’re really… amazing.”

she looked like she wanted to say something more, but she just nodded, stepping back as you got into your car. you watched her in the rearview mirror as you pulled away, her figure growing smaller until she disappeared from sight.

days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, azzi slipped back into your life. she’d text you every now and then, little messages that felt casual on the surface but carried weight in every word. saw something that reminded me of you, she’d write, or remember that time we got caught in the rain? each message was like a breadcrumb, pulling you back toward her.

one evening, you got a text from her. hey, got an extra ticket to the game tonight. want to come?

you hesitated, knowing it could open old wounds, but in the end, curiosity won. you arrived at the arena, slipping into your seat as the lights dimmed. the game was intense, and azzi was incredible—fast, focused, completely in her element. watching her, you felt that old pride swell up, a pride that only grew when she scored the game-winning shot.

afterward, she found you outside, her face still flushed from the game. “thanks for coming,” she said, her smile shy, almost like she was back in high school again.

“i wouldn’t have missed it,” you replied, feeling your heart race as she held your gaze a little too long.

that night, she drove you home. you could feel the tension in the car, thick and electric, the air filled with words unspoken. as she parked outside your place, you hesitated, hand on the door, before you turned back to her.

“this… this feels like old times, doesn’t it?” you asked softly.

she looked down, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “i didn’t realize how much i missed it. missed… you.”

your heart hammered in your chest, but you knew there was someone else, someone who had been there for her when you hadn’t. “azzi… what about paige?”

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “i know. it’s just… i don’t know what to do. paige has been amazing. she’s my best friend, and she’s… she’s everything i thought i wanted. but being around you… it’s different. it’s like i’m back where i belong.”

you reached out, gently taking her hand. “i don’t want to be the reason you hurt someone. but… i also can’t pretend that i don’t feel the same way.”

for a long time, she didn’t respond, her hand warm in yours, her gaze fixed on the street outside. when she finally looked at you, there was a hint of tears in her eyes. “i just need time,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“okay,” you replied softly. “take all the time you need.”

the weeks that followed were torturous. azzi would text, call, ask to meet up, and each time felt like a step closer and a step further away all at once. you knew she was struggling, caught between two lives, two loves, each one pulling her in a different direction. and as much as you wanted her, you didn’t want her to feel forced, didn’t want her to carry the guilt of hurting someone she cared about.

one evening, she showed up at your door unannounced, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion. without a word, you stepped aside, letting her in.

“i ended things with paige,” she said, her voice hollow. “i told her the truth. that my heart wasn’t all hers. that part of me… was still with you.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. you took a step closer, reaching for her hand. “are you okay?” you asked, even though you knew the answer.

she shook her head, her shoulders trembling. “no. but i know this is right. i can’t keep pretending. you… you’re my past, but you’re also my future. and i need to be honest with myself.”

you pulled her into your arms, holding her as she clung to you, her body shaking with the weight of her decision. you knew she would need time to heal, that her heart would need to piece itself back together. but for now, you were here, together, ready to face whatever came next.

#azzi x reader #azzi fudd #azzi fudd x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn x reader #wbb headcannons #wbb imagine #wbb x reader

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lumi-nescentt · 7 months ago

Text

Electric Touch

Part 1 - What Would You Do If I Went To Touch You Now

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.7k

Summary: y/n's affection for Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the Australians she works with but despite their encouragement, she's convinced that finding things to dislike about Lando is the only way to save herself and her job.

A/N: Well hello there, it's been quite a while. I've been terribly busy with school things but I'm finally free so I'm gonna try and start posting again. Most of my WIP are xmas' themed (that's how long I haven't written for) but I have other ideas so bear with me pls :)

After joining McLaren in 2021 as Daniel’s PR manager, the girl had found a routine in her work with the papaya team, some comfort and calm in a world that always seemed rapid. That had, however, all been blown to pieces when Daniel had announced he wasn’t coming back the year after. With this new piece of information had come the sadness of losing someone she had grown accustomed to calling a friend more than a coworker but also the uncertainty of her place within the team without the Australian.

Luckily for her, the arrival of a rookie in the team also meant that the PR manager position she was occupying was still available and so she kept her job. If Oscar and Daniel were both Australian, the resemblance pretty much stopped there. Where Daniel was all loud laughs and obnoxious jokes, Oscar was quieter and understanding his humour had taken some time.

Despite that, Oscar and y/n became friends quickly. The girl was always there for him when the car wasn’t working like Zak had promised it would and even when they had media to attend and her work should have been her priority, she always made sure Oscar was 100% okay before sending him into the lion’s den. It made her a good PR manager and an even better friend.

Being level-headed was a necessary part of the job and y/n liked to pride herself in how well she dealt with tricky situations without ever losing her cool or at least without showing any signs of it. It seemed like nothing or nobody could crack her. Except one person with a dimpled smile and green eyes that mostly sparkled with a hint of mischief whenever their eyes met.

Falling for someone who worked for the same team had never been in y/n’s plans, especially not falling for a driver and yet that was the predicament she was in now.

From the moment Lando had grown out of his timid shell, y/n had known she was done for. Lando was everything she liked in a person, he was funny, kind, smart and so beautiful it made her head spin. If the situation had been different, maybe she would have allowed herself to feel like that but she couldn’t risk her job for what she hoped was some silly crush that would pass.

However, the crush never faded and the more time passed, the more she found to like about Lando. She tried her best to ignore him, to ignore how her stomach felt when he was around and how she seemed to just forget how to act, how to be when he was close. She had hoped no one would notice it but the problem with spending so much time with a driver was that they got pretty good at reading you over time.

Daniel had caught on exactly as it happened and he had teased her relentlessly for it when he knew she was in the mood for that. When he noticed how she was beating herself up over something she couldn’t control, Daniel offered a reassuring smile and a hug, reminding her that she was only human and having feelings for someone, no matter how great they were, wasn’t worth getting all worked up about and feeling guilty for.

For the two years they worked together, Daniel tried to convince her to shoot her shot because if the longing glances his teammate was always throwing their way said something, it was that Lando was in the same predicament as her. No matter how insistent the Australian was, y/n never agreed to do anything to make her feelings known or even test the water with Lando.

In the end, Daniel gave up on her side and instead tried to convince Lando to do something. Just like she didn’t believe Daniel, Lando didn’t believe him when he told her that making a move was a good idea. Lando wasn’t confident enough to risk getting rejected, especially by someone he saw every time they were at the track. Before the Australian could make what he thought was a great love story happen, he stepped down from F1 and despite being a reserve driver for half of the season, he wasn’t there or had enough time to play Cupid so he just prayed that the two idiots he called his friends would wake up one day and realise how stupid they were being.

When Oscar took his seat and started hanging out with the two of them, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together and realise that they were both painfully into each other but too blinded by their fears to actually see the whole picture. He found it sweet at first how Lando would always keep a seat for y/n in meetings, acting like he hadn’t meant to when she came in or how he would always make sure her favourite coffee was available in the McLaren hospitality when she worked trackside. He could tell that despite being scared, Lando desperately wanted something to happen. All the Brit needed was a little push and Oscar was determined to be the one to do it.

When Oscar had told y/n that he knew about her feelings for Lando, she had wanted the ground to swallow her whole right this instant. Working with a new driver that didn’t know her or Lando had let her hope that she could pretend easily but Oscar wasn’t blind. The girl had immediately answered that her feelings would soon be old news because she had made a plan to be over Lando by the end of the 2024 season.

Her so-called genius plan was simple: if she managed to find things to dislike in Lando, enough for her to have the ick, her feelings would certainly go away all at once. So this season, she was determined to pay attention to Lando’s every move and find negative things to say about it. Despite thinking that the plan was terrible and wasn’t going to work, Oscar knew he had to somehow warn Lando. He couldn’t break her trust by telling him so he had to convince Lando that he absolutely needed to make a move before somebody else did and stole y/n’s heart away.

Oscar decided to start his master plan before they filmed a few challenges for McLaren’s youtube channel. Lando and him were hanging out in an empty meeting room, waiting for the shooting to start so it was the perfect opportunity to talk freely.

-“ I think Logan has a crush on someone at McLaren.” Oscar stated out of nowhere

-“ Why do you think that ?”

-“ He’s always hanging around the garage. He says he’s there to see me but he doesn’t really talk to me when he’s here. He mostly talks to y/n. Actually, he only talks to her.”

-“ So you’re saying he’s interested in her ?”

-“ I think so. We never really talked about this kind of thing but it looks like it.” Oscar lied, knowing he would have to warn the American about the lie he had just fed Lando

-“ Oh, okay.” Lando paused, toying with the hem of his sleeves “ Do you think she likes him back ?”

-“ I don’t know if he’s her type but I don’t see why she wouldn’t. She’s always with me and Logan is too so that has to mean that she enjoys his company a little. Otherwise she wouldn’t hang out with us.”

-“ Did she ever talk to you about her dating life and stuff ?” Lando asked, trying to look uninterested

-“ Well, I know she’s pretty shy so she’s not one to make the first move, even if she likes a guy.”

-“ Yeah that sounds like her.” he smiled fondly, remembering how she had been her first days at McLaren, all soft spoken and keeping to herself, not wanting to bother anyone

-“ So, let’s say if somebody likes her, he better make a move soon because she’s not going to do it herself and also there’s other people who may be interested…”

-“ What are you insinuating, Oscar ?”

-“ What do you think ?”

-“ I do not like y/n like that.” Lando argued

-“ So it wouldn’t bother you if I set them up on a date, then ?” Oscar said, pretending to take out his phone to text either of them

-“ Wait !” Lando exclaimed, grabbing Oscar’s wrist before letting go of it like he had been burnt “ Please, Oscar. Don’t do that.”

-“ See ? I knew you weren’t dense.”

-“ I’m not. I just don’t want to ruin our friendship or how comfortable she feels at work right now.”

-“ That’s not going to happen and anyway you won’t know what she thinks until you actually ask her out.”

-“ What if she says no ?”

-“ What if she says yes ?” Oscar mimicked his friend with a knowing smile

-“ You’re so annoying.” Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes

-“ Does that mean you’re going to at least try to ask her out before giving up ?”

-“ I’m going to think about it.”

-“ No, that won’t cut it. You have to promise me you’ll try.”

-“ I don’t owe you shit, Oscar. Why are you so persistent anyway ?”

-“ I’m doing this in the name of love, mate. I just heard through the grapevine that she might like someone and from all the time I spend with her, I’m saying you should shoot your shot.”

-“ What does that even mean ? Why are you being so cryptic ?”

-“I can’t explicitly tell you because that would make me a bad friend but you have to trust me on that one. Just ask her out”

-“ Alright, I’ll do it. But don’t you dare pressure me or anything. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it on my own terms and that’s it.” Lando caved in, pointing his finger at the Australian’s face

-“ I’m so glad you said yes. I hope I at least get to be the godfather of one of your kids.” he laughed as Lando became bright red and slapped his shoulder

-“ So you’re going to tell Logan not to go for it ?”

-“ I don’t need to.”

-“ What ?”

-“ I don’t need to and you don’t have to worry about him.”

-“ Oh my God. You lied !”

-“ It was for a greater cause so it’s okay, right ?”

-“ Greater cause, my ass ! You just like to torture me.”

-“ Maybe…”

-“ I’m gonna–” Lando started before being cut off by someone calling them both to start filming, saving Oscar who just smirked and walked away.

He might have lied to have what he wanted but it wasn’t selfish if he just wanted his two friends to be happy so he didn’t feel too bad.

#f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris

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anna-the-undertaker · 4 months ago

Note

The fic about switching stomachs inspired this idea:

What if the brothers all get into a major fight or something and MC decided to teach them a lesson in how to “walk a mile in each other’s shoes” by switching ALL their sins around (e.g. Satan gets Luci’s pride, Luci gets Belphegor’s sloth, Belphie get’s Asmo’s lust etc etc)

Ooooooh this was so much fun, it took me all day but it was so good to just sit down and write. Thank you for this delicious idea. Song inspiration: Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

Shifting Sins

The House of Lamentation was rarely quiet, but tonight's uproar was something out of the ordinary. It started with Mammon's usual antics—he had "misplaced" another one of Lucifer's prized possessions. Normally, this would have led to a stern lecture and perhaps a mild punishment, but today, something was different. The air was thick with unresolved tension, and the brothers were all on edge. Beelzebub, already irritable from hunger, had emptied the fridge yet again, leaving nothing for anyone else. Leviathan, reeling from a bitter loss in an online game, seethed in resentment.

As Lucifer berated Mammon for his irresponsibility, Mammon’s retorts were sharper than usual, laced with an anger that felt almost foreign. Satan, who had been brooding over an unresolved issue from earlier in the day, couldn’t hold back his own scathing remarks, aimed not just at Mammon but at Lucifer as well. The argument quickly escalated, drawing in the other brothers. Asmodeus, feeling overlooked, snapped at everyone, demanding the attention he believed he deserved. Beel, driven by his constant hunger, joined in with uncharacteristic harshness, while even Belphegor, usually content to stay out of conflicts, threw in his own barbs.

The cacophony of voices echoed through the halls, a tumultuous mix of accusations and grievances. MC, who had been quietly reading in the corner of the common room, watched as the brothers tore into each other, their usual banter turning into something darker and more vicious. It was clear that this was no ordinary argument—this was years of unresolved tension and unspoken resentment coming to a head. Each of the brother’s sin magnifying their worst impulses.

MC had always known that the brothers were burdened by their respective sins, each one struggling in their own way to manage the weight of their nature. But this… this was different. They couldn’t stand by and let the house tear itself apart. The brothers needed to understand, truly understand, the burdens each of them carried.

As the voices rose to a fever pitch, MC stepped forward, feeling the heat of the argument like a physical force. They had never felt so small in the presence of the brothers, who now seemed more like demons than ever before. But they couldn’t back down—not now.

“Enough!” MC’s voice cut through the din, surprising even themselves with the authority in their tone. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to them. For a moment, the weight of their gazes was almost too much, but MC held their ground.

“You all are so quick to judge each other, to lash out without thinking,” they said, their voice steady. “But have any of you ever stopped to think about what it’s like for the others? To really understand what they go through every day?”

Lucifer, his pride still stinging from Satan’s earlier comments, frowned. “And what would you suggest, MC? That we all just suddenly become empathetic?”

“No,” MC replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I suggest you all learn what it’s like to walk in each other’s shoes. Maybe then you’ll finally get it.”

The room was filled with an uneasy silence. The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of where this was going. Before anyone could protest or ask for clarification, MC reached deep within themselves, tapping into the magic they rarely used. It was a gamble, one they weren’t even sure would work, but it was worth a shot. They spoke the incantation, their voice firm and resolute.

A ripple of energy pulsed through the room, invisible yet palpable. The brothers stiffened, each of them feeling something shift within them, a disorienting tug at the core of their being. As the magic settled, they all looked at each other with wide eyes, the reality of what had just happened slowly dawning on them.

“What… what did you do?” Levi’s voice trembled.

“I switched your sins,” MC said simply. “For the next day, you’ll all be living with someone else’s burden.”

Lucifer was the first to protest. “You can’t just—”

But MC cut him off, their tone brooking no argument. “You’re going to find out exactly what it’s like to live with someone else’s sin. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn to appreciate each other a little more.”

With that, they turned and left the room, the brothers too stunned to follow. As the door closed behind them, the brothers were left in an uneasy silence, each one already feeling the strange effects of their new sin taking hold.

Lucifer (Sloth)

The morning after, Lucifer awoke to a sensation so alien it left him momentarily disoriented. Accustomed to springing out of bed with a mind razor-sharp and a schedule demanding his attention from dawn until well past dusk, he now found himself ensnared in the heavy chains of lethargy. His limbs felt like they were weighed down by lead, and his eyelids refused to obey his commands to lift.

Despite his efforts, the temptation to sink deeper into the soft embrace of his bed overpowered his usual discipline. This was Belphegor’s realm—sloth—and it clung to Lucifer with a tenacity that shocked him. The sheer effort required to swing his legs off the bed and stand up felt like battling through a swamp. Each step was sluggish, each action drained more of his energy, and by the time he managed to dress himself, he felt as if he had fought a war.

The day’s duties loomed large in his mind, but as he made his way to his office, the journey felt interminable. Papers were stacked neatly on his desk, reports awaited his review, and the endless list of tasks called for his usually impeccable oversight. However, staring at the documents, Lucifer found his usual sharp focus blurred by an overwhelming desire to do nothing.

Throughout the day, the house seemed quieter to him, or perhaps he was simply too wrapped in the fog of sloth to notice the usual sounds. He tried to push through, to ignite some spark of his usual drive, but each attempt fizzled out, smothered by an oppressive blanket of fatigue.

His interactions with his brothers were strained. Mammon’s boisterous complaints and Leviathan’s subdued mutterings about game losses slipped past him like whispers on the wind. Lucifer’s attempts to command authority fell flat, his voice lacking its usual force. The sight of his brothers reacting to his uncharacteristic apathy with confusion—and in Mammon's case, a poorly concealed delight—only deepened his frustration.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Lucifer picking at his food, an unusual sight that didn’t go unnoticed. Beelzebub, who sat observing the strange lethargy that had claimed his eldest brother, offered a sympathetic glance. Even Beel could see the battle Lucifer fought against the sin that gripped him.

As the day drew to a close, Lucifer retreated to his study, a place where he had spent countless hours strategizing and planning with meticulous care. Now, it felt like a cell. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, not to think or plan, but simply to surrender to the weariness.

In this rare moment of quiet reflection, Lucifer began to understand Belphegor’s daily reality. The constant pull of sloth wasn’t just a lack of energy—it was a battle of will, a test of endurance against one’s own body and mind. It was a struggle he had never truly appreciated, having always been the one to chastise his youngest brother for his laziness.

A newfound respect for Belphegor’s challenges began to take root. Sloth was not just an annoyance to be berated; it was a formidable foe to be understood and managed. This insight, hard-earned through a day of struggling against an unnatural inertia, brought with it a reluctant empathy. Lucifer realized that understanding and support might be more effective than disdain and commands.

That night, as he prepared for a sleep that he felt had already claimed him hours before, Lucifer made a mental note to approach Belphegor with a different demeanor. Perhaps, he thought, there was room for patience and understanding in the House of Lamentation, even from its stern ruler.

This experience, while harrowing, had peeled back a layer of his own untouchable facade, revealing a capacity for growth and change that Lucifer had not acknowledged in a long time. Tomorrow, the spell would be lifted, and his usual vigor would return, but the lessons from today would linger, altering the way he led his brothers, and more importantly, how he understood them.

Mammon (Wrath)

Mammon awoke to a sensation of smoldering heat coursing through his veins, an unfamiliar, unsettling intensity that jolted him out of sleep. This wasn’t the usual surge of adrenaline he felt when cooking up a new scheme or escaping a debt collector. This was raw, uncontrolled anger—a boiling rage that seemed ready to erupt over the slightest provocation.

As the Avatar of Greed, Mammon was no stranger to intense emotions, particularly the desperate need to acquire and possess. Yet, as he lay in bed feeling this wrath pulsate within him, he realized just how different and daunting this emotion was. The smallest noises—a distant door slamming, the murmurs of his brothers in the hallway—ignited a fierce irritation that clawed at his insides.

Attempting to start his day, Mammon’s usual enthusiasm for potential riches felt overshadowed by this pervasive anger. Every misplaced object in his room, every wrinkle on his clothes seemed to taunt him, fueling his fury further. He snapped at the fabric as he dressed, his hands trembling with an urge to tear rather than straighten his jacket.

Breakfast was a battlefield. As he entered the dining hall, the clatter of dishes and the casual banter of his brothers felt like assaults on his senses. When Levi accidentally bumped into him while reaching for the juice, a surge of anger so intense washed over Mammon that he nearly hurled the glass across the room. The shock in Levi’s wide eyes pulled Mammon back from the edge, and he stormed away from the table with a snarl, leaving a stunned silence behind him.

Throughout the day, Mammon struggled to manage the constant simmering rage. The bustling streets of the Devildom, which usually excited him with their opportunities for mischief and money-making, now seemed filled with obstacles and annoyances. Every jostle was a provocation, every whispered bargain a challenge. Mammon found himself involved in several altercations, each leaving him more drained and bewildered by his reactions.

Trying to engage in his usual trades and negotiations was a disaster. Each interaction felt like a ticking time bomb, his patience razor-thin. The realization that he could no longer trust his instincts, that every impulse might lead not to profit but to conflict, was deeply unsettling.

By late afternoon, Mammon found himself alone in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, head in hands. The anger had exhausted him, each outburst leaving a bitter taste of isolation and regret. It was then that he truly began to understand Satan’s daily ordeal. The wrath that Mammon had temporarily inherited was a constant, all-consuming fire that threatened to consume not just him but everything and everyone around him.

This insight shook Mammon. He had often mocked Satan for his 'dramatic' flares of temper, never fully comprehending the effort it took to contain such a volatile force. Now, bearing the weight of wrath himself, Mammon felt a profound sense of empathy for his brother, mixed with a twinge of guilt for all the times he had provoked him without a second thought.

As evening approached, and the household settled, Mammon made his way to Satan’s room—a journey that felt much longer and harder than usual. He knocked hesitantly, a stark contrast to his usually brash entrance.

Satan, surprised by the visit, looked up from his book, his expression guarded. Mammon stepped inside, his posture uncharacteristically subdued.

“I... I think I get it now,” Mammon started, his voice rough with unspoken apologies. “The anger... it ain’t just some flame you can snuff out when you feel like it. It’s like being chained to a beast, always pullin’ at ya.”

Satan watched him, the usual sharpness in his eyes softening. “It’s not easy,” he admitted, a rare vulnerability in his tone. “But knowing someone understands... it helps.”

Mammon nodded, the tension that had coiled tightly within him unspooling slightly. “I’m sorry, for all the times I made it worse. I didn’t know—couldn’t really know—how hard it was fighting that... that beast.”

A small smile tugged at Satan’s lips, a silent acknowledgment of Mammon’s effort. “We all have our sins, Mammon. Maybe now, we’ll be a bit better at helping each other with them.”

That night, as Mammon lay in bed, the wrath still simmering within him, he felt a glimmer of hope. This brutal day had opened his eyes, not just to the burdens his brothers bore, but to the possibilities of what they could overcome together. Understanding, Mammon realized, was just the first step, but it was perhaps the most crucial one. Tomorrow, the sins would switch back, but the lessons learned would linger, shaping his actions and, hopefully, his relationships, for the better.

Leviathan (Gluttony)

The shifting lights from his fishtanks danced weakly over Leviathan’s room, failing to stir him from his unusual lethargy. When the spell switched his sin from envy to gluttony, Levi hadn’t anticipated how drastically it would alter his daily routine. Accustomed to waking with a gnawing sense of inadequacy, today it was replaced by an actual gnawing in his stomach—an insatiable hunger that felt as deep and vast as an oceanic abyss.

Attempting to rise from his bed, Levi felt the hunger clawing at him with a ferocity that shocked him. It wasn’t just a need for food—it was an all-consuming obsession. His usual morning thoughts, typically filled with strategies for new levels or contemplating the latest games and animes, were now overrun by thoughts of what he could eat, how much, and how quickly.

As he shuffled towards the kitchen, the corridors of the House of Lamentation seemed longer than ever, each step driven by a growing desperation. Reaching the kitchen, Levi began to eat whatever he could find—bread, leftovers, even ingredients that were meant for dinner. The hunger was relentless, unsatisfied by the volumes of food he consumed, each bite only sharpening the pangs that gripped him.

During breakfast with his brothers, Levi’s usual reticence was replaced by an impulsive focus on the food. He barely registered the conversations around him, his attention riveted on his next bite. When Beel reached for the last pastry—a usual act that Levi would typically envy in silence—it triggered an unexpected and sharp response from Levi.

“Leave it! I saw it first!” Levi snapped, his voice a mixture of desperation and anger, surprising himself and his brothers. Beel, taken aback by Levi’s uncharacteristic outburst, withdrew his hand, a hurt look flashing across his face.

As the day progressed, Levi tried to engage with his usual online gaming community, but the hunger made it impossible to concentrate. Each ping and notification seemed like a distant echo, irrelevant compared to the gnawing emptiness inside him. Attempting to play felt futile as his reflexes were slow, his decisions poor, driven by the distraction of his unyielding appetite.

Levi’s realization of Beel’s daily struggle with gluttony began to dawn on him in painful clarity. The constant hunger was not just a physical ailment; it was a psychological torment. It sapped his strength, dulled his passions, and turned every thought painfully towards anything he could consume. Levi, who had always viewed Beel’s eating habits as a mere characteristic of his sin, now understood the true burden it was—a relentless drive that overshadowed everything else.

By evening, Levi found himself back in the kitchen, not for the joy of snacking as he used to, but out of sheer necessity to quell the beast of hunger roaring within. As he stood there, eating mechanically, he felt a presence at the doorway. Beel, his expression somber, watched him for a moment before entering.

“I didn’t really get it before… how hard this is for you,” Levi admitted without looking up, his voice thick with the exhaustion of his relentless hunger.

Beel approached, placing a comforting hand on Levi’s shoulder. “It’s tough, yeah. But you get used to it… kinda. You learn to live around it,” Beel said, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and empathy.

Leviathan paused, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth, and met Beel’s eyes. “I’m sorry… for not understanding earlier. For all the times I got annoyed at you for eating everything. I see now how much of a fight it is.”

Beel squeezed his shoulder, a gesture of brotherly solidarity. “It’s okay, Levi. We’re all dealing with our stuff. Maybe now we can help each other a bit more, huh?”

Nodding, Levi felt a weight lift slightly—not from his stomach, but from his heart. This shared experience, though fraught with discomfort and revelation, had unexpectedly bridged a gap between him and Beel. They stood together in the kitchen, two brothers newly bonded not just by the house they shared, but by the understanding of each other’s battles.

That night, as Levi lay in bed, the hunger still gnawing but his heart a little lighter, he thought about how easy it was to overlook others' struggles when they were hidden behind the veil of everyday interactions. Perhaps, he pondered, there was more to every sin, every behavior, and every reaction that met the eye. With this new understanding, Levi felt a resolve to not only battle his own sin but to help his brothers with theirs, fortified by the empathy that had grown from walking in Beel’s shoes—or, in this case, enduring a day with his hunger.

Satan (Pride)

The morning dawned with an unusual clarity for Satan, but it was not the clarity of peace or resolution. Instead, he awoke to a searing sense of purpose that felt foreign yet overwhelmingly powerful. Accustomed to the simmering heat of wrath, he now found himself enveloped by the cold fire of pride. Each action, each decision, was magnified through this new lens—a relentless drive to not just participate but to dominate and exemplify perfection in every aspect of his existence.

His usual morning routine, which typically involved reviewing his academic and demonic duties with a critical but controlled approach, now became a battleground of self-imposed standards and unattainable expectations. The books on his shelf needed realigning, his clothes required meticulous arranging, and even his breakfast became a calculated choice rather than a simple meal. Every minor imperfection seemed to scream at him, a glaring declaration of failure.

As he moved through the hallways of the House of Lamentation, the usual disarray he could dismiss with a sneer now felt like personal affronts to his command. When Beel left a mess in the kitchen or Mammon’s schemes disrupted the order of the day, it wasn’t just annoying—it was unacceptable. Satan found himself issuing commands with an iron edge, demanding compliance and perfection not just from himself but from his brothers as well.

The interactions were draining. Each demand for excellence pushed his brothers further away, their responses ranging from bewildered hurt to simmering resentment. The pride swelled within him, urging him to impose his will further, to correct every fault, to mold everything to his vision of perfection.

It wasn’t until a late afternoon reflection in his room, far from the eyes of his brothers, that the weight of Lucifer’s sin truly sank in. The solitude he sought didn’t bring relief but a sharp, piercing introspection. He considered Lucifer—his leadership, his unyielding demands, his isolation. Satan had often resented his older brother, viewed his control and poise as arrogance. But now, encased in the armor of pride himself, Satan began to grasp the burden it entailed.

Lucifer hadn’t comforted him; there were no shared moments of understanding or soft words exchanged. Their relationship, fraught with tension and a history of rebellion, offered no room for such closeness. Yet, in this solitude, Satan acknowledged a truth he had never considered: he had only ever seen the outcome of Lucifer’s decisions, never the agonizing choices that led there.

Satan sat alone, the quiet of his room echoing back his thoughts. He pondered the enormity of what Lucifer must carry. The pride, while a powerful force, was also a blinding one, isolating Lucifer not just from his enemies but from those close to him. Satan realized that he had come into existence after his brothers fall from grace, after the battles and losses that had shaped his brothers into the beings they were. He had not shared their most formative sufferings; he had only ever known the aftermath and the responsibilities that came with it.

Satan conceded a painful truth: Lucifer had suffered profoundly, not just from the external conflicts but from within, from the blame and the expectations placed upon him as the eldest. Pride might have been his sin, but it was also his cage, crafted by both his own hands and the perceptions of those around him.

This realization didn't soften his stance towards Lucifer—it wasn’t in Satan’s nature to relinquish his criticisms easily—but it broadened his perspective. He acknowledged, if only to himself, that there were depths to Lucifer’s struggles he had not considered, layers of sacrifice and pain masked beneath the veneer of control and authority.

As night fell and the house quieted, Satan made a quiet resolve to approach his older brother with a newfound appreciation for his complexities. The pride would leave him at dawn, but it's lessons would linger, shaping his understanding of leadership, of brotherhood, and of the silent battles fought behind the faces of those he called family.

Asmodeus (Greed)

As night enveloped the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus sat surrounded by the treasures he had "acquired" throughout the day. He realized that greed, his temporary sin, was not just about accumulating wealth or objects—it was a deeper, more pervasive desire that could consume one's life if left unchecked.

Each item, once a trophy in his quest for more, now felt like a chain linking him to a deeper understanding of his brother’s. The weight of greed had not only transformed his desires but had also opened his eyes to the burdens that Mammon bore every day. Mammon's battle that involved much more than the simple desire for more, but a constant search for value in an existence that seemed perpetually insufficient.

It wasn’t just the relentless drive to acquire and possess that pained Asmo; it was the realization of how this sin shaped Mammon’s interactions with others. Throughout the day, as Asmodeus felt the compulsion to hoard and hide, he noticed the mistrust in his brothers’ eyes, a suspicion that he had never encountered when driven by his own sin. Every whisper, every sideways glance felt like an accusation, echoing the way Mammon was often treated whenever something went amiss in the house.

Asmodeus now understood that Mammon’s greed was not a simple choice or a whimsical desire to collect valuables. It was a profound, incessant urge that colored every aspect of his life, often leading him to be blamed or ostracized for incidents he had no part in. The realization hit Asmodeus hard; the loneliness and isolation Mammon must feel, always the first suspect, always guilty until proven innocent.

Reflecting on his own sin, Asmo could see the stark contrast. Where lust was often celebrated or indulged, greed was met with wariness and scorn. His own desires, though intense, were straightforward and often welcomed in their indulgence. They brought him closer to others, even if sometimes superficially, whereas Mammon’s greed pushed him to the margins, often seen as a disruptive force rather than a personal struggle.

Sitting alone, Asmo felt a surge of empathy for Mammon. The constant suspicion, the automatic blame—it was a lot to bear, especially when one was merely following an intrinsic, uncontrollable drive. He thought about the times he had casually joked about Mammon’s misadventures and all the accusations he had thrown his way, never considering the sting that might linger behind his brother's forced laughter and bravado.

Resolved to change the way he interacted with Mammon, Asmo began to carefully replace each item he had taken back to its original place. With each object returned, he felt a piece of his burden lighten, not just the burden of greed, but the burden of misunderstanding he had helped place on Mammon’s shoulders.

The next morning, after the sins had returned to their rightful place, Asmo sought Mammon out, finding him in his room, a place where many of his secretive exchanges took place and where he kept his most precious treasures. Mammon looked up, surprise flickering across his face as Asmodeus approached with a genuine smile.

“Mammon, I… I wanted to say, I get it now. I didn’t before, but I do now. What you go through with greed, it’s not easy. And I’m sorry for all the times I might’ve made it harder for you,” Asmodeus said, his voice earnest, carrying an emotional weight that was rare for him.

Mammon eyed him warily for a moment before a slow, cautious smile spread across his face. “Ya mean that, Asmo? ‘Cause it ain’t just about the stuff or gainin' more or winnin', ya know. It’s how everyone looks at ya, like you’re up to no good before you’ve even done anything.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that too. From now on, I’ll do better. I’ll help them see the Mammon I know, not just the greed,” Asmodeus promised, placing a hand on Mammon’s shoulder.

Mammon nodded, a look of relief washing over him. “Thanks, Asmo. Means a lot, really.”

As they parted ways, Asmodeus felt a renewed sense of connection to his brother. This experience had taught him more than the weight of greed; it had opened his eyes to the importance of understanding and supporting each other’s battles, no matter how different they might be.

Beelzebub (Envy)

Beelzebub awoke with a pang that was unfamiliar yet intensely painful. This wasn't the usual emptiness of hunger he was accustomed to, but a different kind of void—one that seemed to claw at his heart rather than his stomach. As the sin of envy took hold, replacing his constant companion of gluttony, Beel found himself seeing the world through a green-tinted lens.

Morning in the House of Lamentation brought with it the usual sounds and sights, but Beel’s perception of them had altered dramatically. As he lumbered into the kitchen, his eyes were drawn not to the contents of the fridge but to the relationships, possessions, and attributes his brothers flaunted. Levi’s latest gaming setup, Mammon’s closeness with MC, Satan’s intellect—things he’d never paid much mind to suddenly became symbols of what he lacked.

Breakfast was a torturous affair. Each of his brothers discussed their plans and achievements, and with each word, the seed of envy grew thornier in Beel’s chest. He saw their easy camaraderie and felt outside it, isolated by a newfound longing not just for more food, but for more of everything they had.

The day progressed, and Beel’s usual straightforward path of satisfying his hunger became a twisted road filled with comparison and resentment. Training in the gym, he couldn't help but notice how effortlessly others could perform each exercise, his own larger, bulkier form suddenly a source of frustration rather than pride. Where he once felt camaraderie, he now felt competition, a gnawing need to spite others.

As he moved through the day, every laughter-filled conversation his brothers shared, every personal success they flaunted, felt like personal slights to Beel. The weight room, once his refuge, became a hall of mirrors reflecting back his inadequacies. He lifted weights with a ferocity driven by envy, each rep a silent scream against the injustices he felt.

It wasn’t until he caught his reflection in the mirror, sweat-drenched and eyes burning with an unfamiliar malice, that Beel realized how deeply the envy had taken root. He paused, hands trembling, not from exertion but from the emotional turmoil that wracked him.

In the quiet of the locker room, Beel sat heavily on a bench. The reality of Leviathan’s daily struggle with envy began to dawn on him. The constant comparison, the perpetual feeling of falling short—it was exhausting. Torture of the soul. Levi, who often seemed so withdrawn, was fighting a battle that Beel had never truly understood until now; it was a deeper, more insidious feeling than he ever imagined.

Realizing he needed to confront these feelings directly, Beel sought out Leviathan. He found him in his room, surrounded by the glow of multiple screens, a digital world where Levi often escaped his own insecurities. Beel paused at the door, taking a moment to compose his thoughts, then stepped inside with a determination that belied his internal turmoil.

“Levi,” Beel started, his voice gentle. Levi paused his game, turning to face him with a wary expression that shifted into surprise as Beel continued. "I’ve been feeling things today. Envy. It’s heavy, like being hungry but for everything at once.”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he struggled to form words.

Beel moved closer. Without hesitation, he did what felt most natural to express his feelings—he wrapped Levi in a firm, reassuring hug. “I get it now. How hard it must be, feeling like this all the time. It’s tough… tougher than I thought. You’re stronger than you think, Levi, dealing with this every day.”

Levi, caught off guard by the hug and the compliment, stammered a response, his usual aversion to touch crumbling under the genuine care in Beel’s voice. “I-It’s not easy. I don’t always handle it well. But, um, thanks, Beel. Means a lot, hearing that from you.”

Pulling back, Beel kept his hands on Levi’s shoulders, looking him squarely in the eyes. “You don’t have to handle it alone, though. We’re brothers, right? We should be helping each other, not just… envying what the other has. I want to help, okay? Whenever you feel like it’s too much, just come find me.”

Levi nodded, a small, grateful smile breaking through his initial awkwardness. “Okay, I will. Thanks, Beel… really.”

As Beel left Levi’s room, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders—this experience had not only shown him the burden of Levi’s sin but had also reminded him of the power of straightforward, sincere communication.

That night, Beel lay in bed, reflecting on the day’s lessons. He understood now that each of his brothers carried hidden struggles. Tomorrow, all of their sins would switch back, but he and his brothers would endure, forging stronger bonds in a house often divided by the very sins that defined them.

Belphegor (Lust)

Belphegor woke up feeling unusually restless, an unfamiliar energy coursing through his veins that seemed entirely at odds with his typical languor. As the sin of lust temporarily replaced his inherent sloth, the quiet calm that usually surrounded him dissolved into a simmering intensity. This new sensation wasn't just about physical desire; it was a craving for emotional connections and experiences, a longing that felt as invasive as it was unsettling.

The day started differently for Belphie. Instead of seeking the nearest comfortable spot to drift back into sleep, he found himself drawn to the livelier parts of the House of Lamentation. He lingered in the hallways, his gaze following his brothers with an interest that felt compulsive. Asmo’s effortless charm, which Belphie usually ignored, now sparked a keen sense of yearning to engage and be noticed.

Breakfast was an ordeal. Each laugh and touch shared among his brothers felt like a sting, highlighting his usual detachment. The ease with which they expressed affection seemed to accentuate his isolation. The longing to be part of that, to feel as deeply and freely as they did, to be the center of attention, gnawed at him with every passing moment.

As the day progressed, Belphie found it increasingly difficult to manage the surge of emotions that came with lust. His usual strategies for dealing with sloth—withdrawal, isolation, sleep—were ineffective against this relentless desire for closeness and intensity. He caught himself staring, reaching out, wanting more from every interaction than he knew how to ask for.

The library became his refuge by midday, a place where he hoped the quiet might dampen the fervor of his feelings. But even surrounded by books, he felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The solitude he usually cherished now felt suffocating. When Satan happened to wander in, searching for a particular volume, Belphie’s usual nod of acknowledgment turned into an intense conversation about the themes of the book, his words tumbling out with a desperation that surprised them both.

Satan, taken aback by Belphie’s fervent engagement, responded with a cautious interest, which only drove Belphie to push the conversation deeper. The interaction left him feeling both exhilarated and exhausted, a testament to the consuming nature of his temporary sin.

Feeling unsettled by his new intensity, Belphie sought out Asmodeus in his room, hoping to glean some insight into handling these overpowering desires. He found his brother sitting elegantly in a chair in front of his vanity, seemingly at peace as he applied his nightly skincare.

“Asmo,” Belphie started, his voice tight with the strain of uncharacteristic emotions, “how do you manage this? This constant craving... to touch and be touched, to be seen, adored?"

Asmodeus looked up, his eyes gleaming with a mix of sympathy and a flair of his usual dramatic charm. “Oh, Belphie, darling, it’s an art and a battle,” he began, his voice lilting with a practiced grace. “Lust isn’t just about the allure or the rush of desire. It’s also about the ache that comes when the curtains close and the applause fades. You see, even when I’m surrounded by adoration, I know much of it is just for the spectacle of Asmodeus, The Avatar of Lust—not for the person beneath.”

He paused, a thoughtful frown briefly marring his perfect features. “It’s the most easily quieted sin when satisfied, yes, but it’s a hunger that comes back as soon as you realize the feast was all confectionery sweetness, no substance. People rarely seek the man behind the mascara, and that, my dear, can make you crave it all the more desperately.”

Belphie listened, the words reflecting all he had felt all day. “It's a second skin. It clings to every part of you, intensifying every interaction, every glance. I never realized how exhausting it could be—not just physically but emotionally. The constant desire for more, for deeper connections, feels like an itch that can't be scratched. It is relentless, distracting, and disorienting."

“Precisely!” Asmodeus exclaimed, sitting up with a flourish. “It’s a glittering stage where the lights blind you to the emptiness. That’s why we must find balance, seek out those who love not just the allure but the soul beneath. It’s not easy, but oh, it’s crucial.”

Belphie nodded, surprised by the honesty in Asmo’s theatrical disclosure. “How do you find that balance?”

With a wistful smile, Asmodeus stood, brushing off his robes with a graceful sweep of his hand. “By cherishing more genuine moments, dear Belphie. By building connections that go beyond the surface, the press of bodies and the chorus of pleasure it ensues.”

The conversation left Belphie deep in thought as he watched Asmodeus glide across the room, his gait as confident as his persona. The encounter had not only shed light on Asmo’s struggles with lust but also mirrored back to Belphie the complexities of his other brothers sins.

That evening, as the day’s experiences settled like dust after a storm, Belphie felt a burgeoning respect for Asmo’s restraint and a new understanding of his burden. Tomorrow he would return to his familiar sloth, but the events of today promised a fresh perspective on how to engage with the world and his family—a way to bridge the gaps that had long kept him aloof and apart from the warmth his family offered.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me chaotic mc

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genshin-obsessed · 2 years ago

Note

POCKY I HAVE A NEW IDEA 👀

With any of the boys you feel like writing for:

(Both star rail and genshin are fine! But if you could include Cyno and perhaps Gepard that would be lovely <3)

Reader who accidentally loses their engagement/wedding ring. Maybe they took it off to shower and it got lost or (if you want angst) they got into a serious accident/were kidnapped/etc. and it was lost in all the excitement. In any case reader feels terrible about it and is crying and apologizing to him and we get lots of comfort at the end hehe

✧ Ooh I chose to do both fandoms! This sounds super cute and fun! This was a lot more fun than I thought it would be! I hope you like it ✧ Includes: Cyno, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Blade. ✧ Extra: I think I’m starting to like my ooc Blade… also it's a bit lengthy!

✧ ─ GENSHIN IMPACT ─ ✧

» Cyno «

Cyno had actually had the ring custom made. It was one of your few cherished possessions. You looked at it multiple times a day. Any friend you met, you’d happily show them the ring to which they just chuckled. Newly engaged couples tended to do that.

You did your best not to take the ring off willy nilly. If there wasn’t a reason for it to come off then it didn’t need to come off. You also placed it in one place if you ever did take it off, in a jar on your nightstand.

You… weren’t sure what the hell happened but the ring kinda vanished. It was one minute and then it wasn’t. You knew you didn’t take it off. But it was gone.

At first, you were in denial. There was no way it just disappeared like that. But it wasn’t on your finger, so where was it?

You had practically destroyed your bedroom in search of that ring. The fact that it wasn’t on your finger was sending so much anxiety through you, it was bringing you to tears. You hadn’t even realized what ruckus you’d caused since you were too busy in your own head.

“(Y/n)!” A loud voice called, finally breaking you from your trance. You looked up to see Cyno standing there with wide, concern-filled eyes. “What happened? Did someone hurt you? Are you ok?”

When you saw him, you started crying even harder, feeling the guilt well up in your chest. You knew it was difficult for Cyno to have that ring made and you just went and lost it like an idiot! You covered your mouth, trying to muffle your sobs.

Cyno, on the other hand, was also panicking, wondering if his simple entrance had ruined your day. Of course that sounded ridiculous so he slowly approached you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, ok, just- just breathe, ok? I won’t understand anything and I can’t help if you keep crying like this.” It took you a good five minutes before you were able to calm down enough to explain what happened.

“I-I lost the ring.” You managed how, holding your hand up to show your finger with the ring missing. Cyno felt both relief and sadness. He was relieved that nothing serious had happened such as someone threatening you, hurting you, or someone you loved. But he was also sad that you lost the ring- mainly because of how much you were crying. He loved how much you loved the ring, but it was never worth this many tears.

Cyno sighed and took that same hand, placing a kiss on your now lonely ring finger. He leaned in and kissed your forehead too, giving you a hug.

“It’s just a ring, my darling. I know you loved it- and I’m happy- but I don’t want you to cry this much over it. It’ll be ok, we can find it. Or get a new one.” You immediately shook your head at his last offer.

“No, I want that one. I don’t want a new one.” You said, looking up at him. He smiled a little at your stubbornness.

“Ok, then let’s start looking.”

It took a little while- almost an hour- before you two were able to find the ring. Apparently, you had placed it in the drawer of his nightstand accidentally and didn’t think to check it because you don’t usually touch his things. You felt a little silly but you were over the moon to have your ring back.

» Alhaitham «

Alhaitham’s ring for you was nothing short of magnificent. Everyone noticed it without you saying anything as it was so eye-catching.

Because of this, you were extremely careful when going anywhere alone. The ring was no doubt expensive, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

The thing was… sometimes people just followed without you realizing. Normally, if you were Alhaitham, he’d notice almost immediately. You on your own, however, could not do that.

You hadn’t even realized it but there was a thug in front of you demanding you hand over anything of value to him.

You scrambled to give him all the money and jewelry you had, hoping he’d let you go free. Then his eyes fell on your beautiful, sparkling ring. You felt your heart sink as he pointed to it.

“That too- gimme that too!” He yelled, wanting to show you that he wasn’t scared or in the mood to waste time. You slowly shook your head, feeling the fear spreading further through your body and solidifying your legs to the ground.

“Please l-let me keep this, I gave you everything else.” You said, tears blurring your vision, forcing you to blink to get them out.

“No, no, I want that too. You either hand it over or I take it off your corpse.” He growled, glaring at you. Realizing that Alhaitham would be even more angry knowing you put yourself in harm’s way, you found what little courage you had and slid the ring off of your finger. Your hands were shaking and there was a vice grip on it because you didn’t want to lose it. But eventually… you let go. The thug took it and ran off, leaving you standing in the dark, crying.

It was almost ten minutes later when you found yourself having the energy to walk back when you saw an extremely worried Alhaitham racing towards you.

“(y/n)! Where have you been?! Do you know how worried I was?!” He yelled as he instantly engulfed you in his arms, squeezing you almost too tightly. You hugged back immediately, needing that comfort desperately.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to tell him that you’d given up the ring. Willingly. Kinda.

“Good,” Alhaitham said, making your eyes widen. “It’s better than your life. I could buy a thousand rings like that, but I only have one of you.” He said as he took your face, gently wiping your tears away. “You did the right thing, we’ll get you a new ring.”

His words did bring some level of comfort to you, but you still felt a little guilty for having lost such a beautiful ring.

“W-what if I want that one? And only that one.” You asked, sniffling a little. Alhaitham smiled, kissing your cheek.

“Then we’ll get that one back.”

As promised, Alhaitham didn’t rest until he caught the thud, making sure to retrieve all of your items- especially your ring. He also made sure he was the one who slid it onto your finger- again.

» Kaveh «

Kaveh’s ring was intricate and on the inside, had an engraving which translated how much he adored you and that he would forever. That ring was something you cherished so much. You showed him every single day how beautiful it looked. He just chuckled and nodded, always kissing your ring finger.

You tried to keep the ring on your finger 24/7, making sure it washed well with every hand wash. You didn’t like taking it off very often, always worrying it might just get lost.

If you did take it off, you actually kept it in sight. Placing it in the center of the counter and making sure it would just fall off or something.

One day, you’d had a particularly busy day and you were pretty exhausted. You’d remembered taking your ring off for a minute to wash up but when you came back… it was gone.

All that exhaustion was gone and suddenly, all you felt was panic and dread. Where did it go? Where did the ring go?! You looked everywhere you possibly could, trying not to think of the worst. But with every passing second you couldn’t find the ring, those thoughts invaded your mind and all you could see was a very angry Kaveh.

You began to tear the entire room apart, throwing things around as you started to search in every nook and cranny. Of course, you didn’t realize Kaveh was even in the room until he grabbed your shoulders, making you scream.

“It’s me! What are you doing?” He asked with a look of concern as he gestured to your shared bedroom. You paused and started looking around- it was a disaster. Everything was everywhere and it would take hours to clean up.

“I-I’m sorry…” you mumbled in a small voice, wiping your cheeks. Kaveh’s expression didn’t change but he took both of your wrists and slowly pulled you to the bed, stepping over all the clothes and items.

“Sit.” He said as he grabbed a water bottle from off the floor. He took off the cap and held it out to you. “Just take a second and tell me what’s wrong.” He said before he kneeled in front of you, rubbing your thigh a little to comfort you.

You sipped the water, taking a few deep breaths to calm down so you could actually explain what was going on. You could see just how worried he was- not to mention, you could see the slight redness and glossiness in his eyes. Kaveh hated it when you cried- if you cried hard enough, that pain transferred to him and sometimes… he’d tear up a little.

“I lost the ring.” You said as you showed him your left hand. “I-I just set it down and I don’t know where it went.” You sniffled feeling the tears come back, but Kaveh grabbed your hands and kissed your ring finger.

“It’s ok, love. We can find the ring if it’s in here. But there’s no reason for you to be this upset. It’s just a ring, I could get you another one.”

“No, I want that ring.”

“What if I got you a ring that looked exactly like it?”

“It’s not the same one. I want that one- not another one.” You said, frowning at him. Kaveh only chuckled and nodded, standing up and lifting your head to kiss your lips.

“Ok, then let's start looking.”

It took a grand total of two and half hours for you to clean up everything and finally find the ring. It had landed under the bed, right next to the leg hiding from view. You were so happy that it was back on your finger that you swore you’d never take it off no matter what. Kaveh just felt better knowing you were ok and happy again.

✯.⋅ HONKAI STAR RAIL ⋅.✯

» Gepard «

Your engagement ring was like your most prized possession. You looked at it every single day since Gepard had proposed and almost never took it off. Even after a month, it was still the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned.

You were still very careful with everything you did, treating it like glass at times. You even had little covers on the drains so it never fell down the drain. Your worst nightmare was the ring falling down the drain.

There were times you did take it off. Drying your hands was easy without the ring so when you washed your hands… you took it off.

You had ended up getting distracted and when you came back… it was gone.

Panic. Full fledged panic. You looked everywhere you possibly could for that little ring but it was just gone. You even went through the phase of looking at your own hands as if you could forget the feeling of the heavy gem on your hand.

At this point, you were in tears- absolutely distraught. That’s when Gepard walked into the room.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” He asked with a frown as he walked to you, seeing your state. He was extremely concerned as you were safe in your home so nothing could've happened. But he'd seen too many things to not start panicking a little himself.

“I-I lost it! I can’t find it- I looked everywhere!” You yelled, the tears just pouring down your cheeks. Your heart was beating out of your chest, especially now that Gepard was here. You weren't able to find your ring before he came home.

“Wait, ok, breathe.” He said as he took your shoulders and made you look at him. “Just breathe for a second. What did you lose?”

You took deep breaths but held up your left hand, showing the missing ring. Gepard frowned and now he understood what made you so upset.

“Ok, ok, don’t cry. We can find it. We’ll find it, so please don’t cry.” He said as he reached up and dried your tears. He knew the ring meant a lot to you but he didn’t realize how much. It was sweet… but he also hated it when you cried.

“It was s-so expensive! And I-I lost it!” You said as you looked around as if you'd just end up spotting it or something.

Gepard sighed and shook his head, making you look at him. His warm thumbs slid under your eye to catch the oncoming tears.

“So? Besides, we’ll find it so there’s no reason to cry this hard. Come on, we’ll look all day if we have to.” He said, kissing your forehead. You could feel the intense relief, knowing he wasn’t angry at you or disappointed in you. Now you just had to find the ring.

And you did. It had fallen and landed behind your desk. It was hard to see with how little room there was between the wall and desk.

» Blade «

You loved that ring. Honestly, even after a month or so, you still hadn’t gotten over how beautiful the ring was. You adored it.

When you took your engagement ring off, you had a special little box you put it in. You closed it and locked it every single time.

This particular time you were a bit busy and frazzled. You weren’t thinking and you just realized the ring wasn’t on your finger. So you went to your box to get it.

It was gone. Like it grew legs and walked off! Panic set in immediately because there’s no way you left it anywhere else.

“Ok, ok, just… breathe.” You told yourself as you took slow, deep breaths. They were so forced that it made you even more anxious.

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to think where you could’ve left it. No location came to mind- only a very angry Blade. God, you were so irresponsible! That ring was so expensive and you lost it about a month after getting it!

So you began to tear apart your bedroom in a desperate attempt to find the ring. That’s when Blade walked in, but you were too busy to notice him. He looked around both confused and concerned.

“What the hell…?” His voice makes you yell as you turn around and his eyes widen a little at the sight of your tear-stricken face. “What happened? Are you ok?” He asked as he walked to you, stepping over the items thrown about.

“I-I lost it. I’m sorry! I’ll find it so don’t worry! I’ll look everywhere.”

“I’m sure we can just buy it again.” He said in his usual monotone as he began to wipe your tears with a tissue he grabbed from nearby. He had no idea what you were talking about at first, but if a missing item made you this upset, then he'd just get it for you again. Simple.

You just held your hand up to show the missing ring making him stare for a moment. Oh.

“Yeah, I can buy another one of those too.” You shook your head, sniffling.

“N-no, I don’t want a new one. I want that one.” No ring could possibly compare to that first one. You refused to give up. If someone stole it- highly unlikely- you’d find them and take it back. You were that desperate.

“Fine. We’ll find it then but you’re not gonna see anything with all those tears in your eyes.” He said as he dabbed your eyes again. He wrapped an arm around you, giving you a tight hug, rubbing your back. It upset him when you cried… so now he really had to find that ring.

You two eventually found it, you’d actually left it on the kitchen counter when you were going to cut the chicken, not wanting to get any on it. You didn’t put it away because it was only a few minutes that you’d be busy.

Somehow, the ring had fallen onto the ground and rolled under the counter. When Blade found it, he made sure to be the one to slip it back onto your fingers, asking if you felt better now that you had the ring back. You did. 100%.

» Jing Yuan «

The day Jing Yuan proposed to you was one of the happiest of your life. You flaunted that ring everywhere to the point where some of his friends were concerned you might get attacked for the ring. It was definitely expensive.

Removal of the ring was near impossible, you didn’t take it off for any reason. If you were doing something that might stain- you wore thick gloves. But taking that ring off never happened.

It was endearing for Jing Yuan. He’d often catch you just staring at it with that goofy smile on your face. And it brought him a world of joy. He was worried you wouldn’t like it.

But right now… you kinda wished you had been a bit more careful. You showed off your ring too much.

“A-and the ring! Gimme that ring!” The man said as he pointed his gun at you. You were willing to give over anything except that. You covered your ring with your hand and shook your head.

“N-no… no, I can’t give you my ring.” You said with a frown.

“I’ll kill you! Give it to me!” He threatened and you were terrified but you shook your head.

“Please don’t take it. You can take everything else just n-not my ring.” You said with the tears in your eyes. Your hands were shaking and your heart was pounding in your chest.

A yelp escaped your lips when the barrel of the gun touched your forehead. All you could do was stand there as he reached over and slid the beautiful ring off your finger and scoffed.

“Idiot.” With that, he ran off. You were frozen in fear, unable to move or breathe as if you were wondering if he’d return.

You heard yelling only a few moments later but it didn’t matter to you. You just stood there, feeling the anger and frustration in your heart. Why didn’t you do something else!? You just stood there!

“(Y/n)!” A voice called but you were too busy in your thoughts. “(Y/n)!” You only registered the voice when you felt your shoulders move. It was Jing Yuan. He looked both angry and terrified as he tried to bring you back from your shock. “It’s ok, it’s just me.” He said when he saw you flinch.

You wasted no time hugging him so tightly as you felt a pang of guilt. You lost the ring. You never listened and now the ring was gone. You could just cry as he held you, trying his best to give you a moment.

“H-he took it! He took m-my ring!” You said, barely able to breathe.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s fine. I’ll get you another one.” He said as he felt his own heart break at your distress.

“N-no! No, I want that one!” You said as you looked up. He frowned as he took your face and wiped your tears.

“Ok, I’ll get you that one. I promise, just please don’t cry.” Jing Yuan wasn’t one to cry but if you were crying this badly, then his eyes do get a little teary as well. He feels your pain, no matter what kind. Once you were calm, he made sure to take you back home, assuring you his men were out looking.

Eventually, you two were met with good news. The mugger was arrested only an hour or so after the crime and all your belongings had been taken back by the knights. Including your beloved ring.

#genshin impact x reader #honkai star rail x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #🖊─ pocky’s writings

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mercillery · 5 months ago

Text

STRAWHATS AND WAXING…

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

SUMMARY: Just hcs on how some of the strawhats are like during the waxing experience. You’re the one waxing them btw.

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Zoro + Nami

NOTES: I made this random mess because I got my face waxed for the first time a few days ago and they peeled a small part of my skin off. I wish I was joking.

When Luffy first hears about waxing, his initial reaction is pure confusion. He tilts his head, eyes wide, as if you've just told him about a new, mysterious kind of devil fruit. "Waxing? What’s that?" he'd ask, genuinely clueless, probably thinking it's some sort of bizarre new adventure or maybe even a weird dessert. In Luffy's world, anything unknown is either something to eat or something fun to do, so naturally, he'd assume waxing falls into one of those categories.

You’d have to break it down for him in the simplest terms possible: "It's a way to remove hair. Like, pulling it out so it’s not there anymore." He blinks a few times, processing this new information. "Remove hair? But why would anyone want to do that?" he’d ask, clearly baffled by the concept. For him, the idea of going out of your way to get rid of something as trivial as hair is as foreign as trying to understand why Sanji doesn’t just eat the ingredients instead of cooking them.

Once he finally gets it—or at least he thinks he does—his curiosity piques. But not for the reasons you'd expect. He might think the wax is some sort of edible goo (which, let's be honest, he'd probably try to eat). Or he might be intrigued because it sounds like a new kind of challenge. "Does it hurt? Is it like a fight?" he'd ask with an eager grin, already ready to face this 'hair-removal' challenge head-on. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he imagines waxing to be some sort of mini-battle he has to win.

Now, Luffy isn’t exactly known for his patience or for thinking things through, so when you finally explain that it involves ripping hair out by the roots, he just shrugs it off. Pain? Discomfort? Those are small potatoes for the guy who’s taken down warlords and emperors. "Let’s do it!" he’d declare, without even a hint of hesitation. After all, in his mind, if it’s something new and weird, it’s got to be worth a shot.

Luffy, being the impulsive bundle of energy that he is, obviously doesn’t have a shred of patience—especially when it comes to something as boring as the prep work for waxing. The moment you start heating the wax, he’s already squirming in his seat, looking like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darting between the wax and your every movement. It feels like time has slowed down—that's how bored he is right now.

“Come on, just do it already!” he’ll exclaim, practically bouncing up and down with impatience. The waiting is torture for him, and you can tell he’s seconds away from grabbing the wax himself and slapping it on in whatever haphazard way he can manage.

It’s like trying to calm down a hyperactive kid who’s been told he has to wait five minutes before opening his birthday presents. Patience is not in his vocabulary, and the idea of sitting still while you carefully prepare everything is almost more than he can bear. And honestly, with Luffy, you know the clock’s ticking before he does something crazy, so you better hurry up.

When the waxing process finally begins, Luffy is… well, to put it mildly, underwhelmed. He thought this whole thing was going to be a lot more exciting, maybe even a little dangerous—something worthy of a future Pirate King, you know? But instead, it's just you, applying warm wax and smoothing down strips with what seems like no end in sight. He starts fidgeting almost immediately, shifting around as if the chair is suddenly the most uncomfortable place in the world—it’s not, he’s just really bored. He might even start poking at the wax with a finger, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

“Can’t you go faster?” he’ll whine, looking at you with those big, expectant eyes that are practically begging for some kind of action. The boredom is killing him. Luffy’s the type who thrives on chaos and excitement, not sitting still while something as mundane as hair removal drags on. He’s clearly disappointed that this isn’t turning out to be the grand adventure he somehow imagined it might be.

However…

The moment that first strip is ripped off, everything changes. The look of boredom is instantly replaced by sheer shock as Luffy’s whole body jolts. His eyes go wide, and without missing a beat, he lets out a loud, explosive yell. “OW! WHAT WAS THAT?!” He practically leaps out of his seat, clutching the now-hairless spot as if he’s just been ambushed by an invisible enemy. It’s not that Luffy can’t handle pain—it’s the surprise of it all that really gets him.

Even though you carefully explained the whole process beforehand, he somehow managed to forget about that crucial detail. He was too focused on the idea of wax being some weird new eatable substance to pay attention to the part where you mentioned that it might, you know, hurt a bit. His reaction is pure Luffy: loud, dramatic, and completely honest. You can’t help but laugh a little as he rubs his arm, still looking at you like you’ve just pulled the ultimate prank of betrayal on him.

But if you think the pain is going to make Luffy tap out, you’ve got another thing coming. The shock may have caught him off guard, but backing down? That’s not in his nature. Instead, Luffy’s all in—gritting his teeth and getting ready for the next round, like he’s about to face down a sea king. The pain with each wax strip is real, but it’s also the one thing keeping him from reaching that extreme level of boredom that was starting to gnaw at him earlier.

Every time you rip off another strip, his eyes widen for a split second, and you can see him visibly brace himself, but then he’s right back to his usual self, shaking off the pain with a grin. “Hah! That one wasn’t so bad!” he’d boast, even though you can tell from the way he’s rubbing the spot that he definitely felt it.

And in true Luffy fashion, he starts to get into it, almost like he’s made a game out of enduring the waxing. He’ll throw out little challenges, like daring you to rip the next one off faster or harder, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to go all out. “Come on, hit me with your best shot!” he’d say, grinning even though you know he’s still feeling each pull.

But as determined as Luffy is, eventually, the boredom creeps back in. He’s the type who needs constant action, and once the novelty of the pain wears off, there’s not much left to keep him entertained. After a few more strips, you notice he’s not reacting as much—his bravado is still there, but the excitement has clearly faded. He starts to tolerate the pain to the point where it’s just another thing happening to him, like getting rained on during a storm.

Before long, you hear the unmistakable sound of snoring. You glance over to see him slouched in the chair, completely conked out as if he’s taking a nap on the Sunny. His body is so used to pushing through discomfort that it just decided, “Why not catch some Z’s?”

You don’t even need to check if he’s okay—those snores are a clear enough sign. You work as quickly as you can, ripping off the strips one after another, half expecting him to wake up at any moment. But he just keeps snoring away, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s still in the middle of a waxing session.

When you finally finish and wake him up, Luffy blinks groggily, still half asleep as you tell him it’s all done. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it does, his eyes light up like you’ve just told him there’s a mountain of meat waiting for him. He immediately sits up and admires his newly smooth, hairless legs with the same enthusiasm he’d have for discovering a treasure chest.

“Whoa! My legs are so smooth!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands over his legs in amazement. He’s completely mesmerized by the feel of his skin, as if it’s the coolest thing in the world right now. You can already tell that any discomfort or redness is the last thing on his mind.

And before you can even suggest taking it easy, Luffy’s already up and bolting out of the room, eager to show off his fantastic new smooth legs to the rest of the crew. “Hey, guys! Check this out!” he shouts, practically bursting onto the deck with a wide grin plastered on his face. He’s flexing his legs, striking exaggerated poses like he’s just achieved something monumental.

“Look how smooth my legs are!” he brags, showing them off to anyone who will listen. He’s so caught up in his own excitement that he’s completely oblivious to the lingering redness or any stares of confusion from the crew. Even if they’re wondering why he’s so excited about hairless legs, Luffy doesn’t care—he’s just thrilled to have something new to show off.

If someone asks him how it was, Luffy will flash that signature grin and say, “It was easy!”—completely forgetting that he’d screamed bloody murder when the first strip was ripped off. To him, the pain is already a distant memory, replaced by the thrill of showing off his new, smooth legs.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is left in a mix of surprise and confusion. They’re all quietly wondering how on earth you managed to get Luffy to sit still for so long without him bouncing around or possibly even eating the wax. The idea of Luffy sitting through the entire waxing process without causing total chaos is almost more shocking to them than the fact that he went through with it in the first place.

When the idea of waxing is first brought up, Zoro’s reaction is about as predictable as you’d expect. He barely gives it a second thought before letting out a low, uninterested grunt and going right back to whatever he was doing—probably napping or lifting absurdly heavy weights. Grooming beyond the basics just isn’t his thing. In Zoro’s mind, as long as he’s clean and his swords are sharp, there’s no need for anything extra, especially something as seemingly frivolous as waxing.

His first response would probably be a blunt, “No way,” with a look that says he’s already decided the conversation is over. You can tell that he’s genuinely baffled by the idea. Why on earth would he willingly let someone rip out his hair for no reason? The whole concept just doesn’t compute with him, especially when it’s not going to help him train or fight better.

If you push the idea a little further, maybe teasing him about how even the toughest swordsmen could benefit from smooth skin, he’d probably snap back with something like, “Why would I let someone rip my hair out for no reason?” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, as if the whole suggestion is almost offensive to his sensibilities. Zoro’s the type who lives by practicality—if it doesn’t make him stronger or help him achieve his goals, it’s not worth his time.

The only way you’re getting Zoro to agree to waxing is if he’s somehow backed into a corner with no other way out. Maybe he lost a bet after one too many drinks, or someone bribed him with a stash of rare alcohol. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s doing it to shut someone up—most likely Sanji, who’s probably been teasing him nonstop about being too scared to go through with it. Even in that case, though, Zoro would make it crystal clear that this isn’t his idea of fun.

When he finally agrees, it’s with an irritated sigh and a muttered, “This better be quick,” as if he’s about to endure some grueling, unnecessary challenge. You can almost feel the weight of his reluctance hanging in the air, and he’s definitely giving you a look that says he’s only doing this because he has no other choice. It’s a rare moment, almost like spotting an endangered species in the wild—Zoro, the one who faces down powerful enemies without flinching, is now about to endure the ultimate test of patience.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you know it. Getting Zoro to sit still for something as non-essential as waxing is nothing short of a miracle, so you best not let it slip through your fingers. It’s clear that he’s mentally preparing himself, as if this is just another battle to get through—one that he’s determined to endure but not exactly thrilled about.

Like Luffy, Zoro has zero patience when it comes to things that waste his time, and waxing is no exception. The moment the process begins, you can practically feel the impatience and irritation radiating off him. As soon as you start heating the wax or doing any kind of prep work, Zoro’s already showing signs of frustration. He’s tapping his foot, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and scowling as if the entire process is some sort of personal insult.

“Is this really necessary?” He’d grumble under his breath, casting a sharp glance your way as if daring you to say otherwise. Unlike Luffy, who would probably be whining and fidgeting, Zoro’s complaints are more subdued but no less pointed. He’s the type to internalize his frustration, letting it out in low, growly mutters and the occasional heavy sigh. The whole thing feels like an unnecessary distraction to him—one that’s taking way too long for his liking. Still, he’s not backing down.

Every minute that passes just adds to his annoyance. He’ll let out a groan every time you mention there’s another step or that the wax isn’t quite ready yet. The delay is clearly getting on his nerves, and you can tell that if it were up to him, he’d already be done and back to his training. But instead, he’s stuck here, enduring this tedious process with nothing but his grumbles and scowls to show for it.

When the wax is finally applied, Zoro’s expression remains as stone-faced as ever. There’s no way he’d let anyone see that he’s uncomfortable, especially over something like this. He sits there with a cold, indifferent look, acting as if the warm wax is just another insignificant obstacle in his day.

He’s not scared—Zoro doesn’t do scared. He’s just getting himself ready for the moment you rip off that first strip. It’s like he’s preparing for a fight—not with an enemy, but with the sharp sting he knows is coming. His eyes narrow slightly as the wax hardens, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the best way to endure this new form of discomfort.

When you finally rip off that first strip, Zoro doesn’t scream, flinch, or give you the satisfaction of seeing him react. He’s been through far worse than this, and he’s not about to let something as small as waxing get the better of him. The sting is sharp and sudden, but Zoro just grits his teeth, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he breathes out in a slow, controlled manner. That’s the only sign you get that he even felt it.

As more strips are applied and ripped off, Zoro’s irritation steadily grows—not because of the pain but because of the sheer, mind-numbing repetition of it all. For someone who thrives on action and hates being idle, this process is torture in its own right. The longer he has to sit still, the more his patience wears thin. You can see it in the way his brow furrows and the slight twitch in his jaw as he tries to keep his frustration in check.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he finally asks, his tone laced with impatience. There’s no mistaking the edge in his voice; he’s clearly reaching the end of his rope. His gaze flickers down to his still very hairy legs, and you can practically feel the silent judgment radiating off of him. It’s as if he’s questioning every decision that led him to this moment, where he’s stuck sitting through what feels like an endless ordeal.

A long, loud silence hangs in the air as your eyes trace over the hair still covering his legs. This is obviously going to take a very long time. But as you glance back at Zoro, the last thing you want to do is push him over the edge. With a small, reassuring smile and eyes that do their best to hide the truth, you muster up your most convincing tone and say, “Not long.” You know you��re lying through your teeth, but hey, it’s for the sake of Zoro’s sanity.

But despite the mounting irritation gnawing at him, Zoro wouldn’t back down or even think about asking to stop. Once he’s committed to something, no matter how trivial or annoying, he sees it through to the bitter end. His stubbornness is practically legendary, and there’s no way he’d let something as simple as waxing break his resolve. The idea of quitting? Not even on his radar. Zoro isn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking he can’t handle it.

Besides, he knows for a fact that if he even hinted at tapping out, Sanji would never let him live it down. The thought of that smug blonde cook mocking him is enough to keep Zoro going, his pride and stubbornness fueling him through every irritating strip. So he toughs it out with grit in his jaw and steel in his eyes.

Once the waxing ordeal is finally over, Zoro will act as though it is no big deal. There wouldn’t be any complaints or mentions of pain—he’d simply brush it off with his usual nonchalance. “Done already?” he might say, as if the whole thing was just a minor inconvenience, nothing worth talking about.

Internally, though, Zoro would feel a wave of relief wash over him. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s glad it’s over. The thought of sitting through another round of that repetitive, irritating process? No, thank you. He’s more than ready to move on to something that actually matters—like getting in some serious training, polishing his swords, or finding the nearest sunny spot on the ship for a well-deserved nap.

Even if his skin is red and irritated afterward, Zoro wouldn’t show the slightest sign of discomfort. He’d carry on with his day like nothing happened, even if the soreness lingers with every move he makes. To anyone who might notice the redness and dare to ask how he’s feeling, he’d give them a simple, “I’m fine,” in that gruff, no-nonsense tone that shuts down any further questioning.

Don’t even think about suggesting that he try it again. Zoro’s already made up his mind—this was a one-time thing, and there’s no chance he’s ever doing it again. Once was more than enough, and he doesn’t see any reason to put himself through that kind of hassle a second time. If you’re ever brave enough to suggest it in the future, you’ll be met with a hard glare and a flat, uncompromising “no.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.

From that moment on, Zoro will subtly avoid any situation where waxing could possibly come up again. If he hears the word “waxing” in passing conversation, he won’t even acknowledge it; he’ll just walk away without a word, his mind already moving on to more important matters. The crew might chuckle about it behind his back, but Zoro doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, this is one experience he’s leaving firmly in the past. He literally wants nothing to do with wax ever again.

My girl is a seasoned veteran when it comes to waxing. She’s practically a walking encyclopedia on the subject, knowing all the different types of waxes, which ones are best for specific skin types, and which methods give the smoothest results. She could probably run a beauty salon in her sleep if she wanted to, though she’d charge a hefty fee for it. With all that being said, when you bring up the idea of a waxing session, she’s more than ready to jump on board. She’s no stranger to grooming and self-care; in fact, it’s something she prioritizes.

When the waxing begins, Nami is completely relaxed. She’s no stranger to this, and her confidence shines through. She'll engage in casual conversation with you, keeping the atmosphere light and friendly. However, despite her composed demeanor, she can’t entirely shake the anticipation of the pain that’s about to come.

The thought of wax strips being ripped off makes her just a little bit edgy. To ease her nerves, she might ask, “You’ve done this before, right?” The question comes out half-joking, but there’s an underlying need for reassurance. Whether you decide to tease her or not is up to you, but be careful—you might end up on the receiving end of her temper for playing with her like that.

She knows waxing isn’t exactly a painless experience, so she prepares herself mentally. When the first strip is pulled off, she might exhale sharply, but she won’t scream or cause a scene. Instead, she’ll bite her lip and maybe squint her eyes briefly before quickly regaining her composure. “That was nothing,” she’ll mutter, partly to herself, determined to get through the session with as little fuss as possible.

Throughout the waxing process, Nami would keep the atmosphere light and breezy, effortlessly weaving a stream of witty commentary to distract herself from the sting and keep things fun. “You know, I’ve had marines chasing me who were less painful than this,” she might say with a smirk, her voice steady despite the sharp tugs on her skin.

If Luffy or another crewmate happened to wander by during the session, Nami wouldn’t miss the chance to throw a playful jab their way. “Hey Luffy, I bet you’d cry like a baby if you tried this,” she’d tease, knowing full well that Luffy’s curiosity (and his competitive nature) would probably lead him to try it just to prove her wrong. Honestly, that might be how you got him to sit down for waxing in the first place.

But despite the jokes and banter, Nami wouldn’t let the conversation stray too far from the task at hand. She’s someone who can multitask like a pro, keeping up a lively chat while making sure you’re following the process correctly. “So have you ever tried sugaring? It’s less harsh on the skin,” she might ask casually, as if you’re both just having a normal conversation over tea rather than ripping hair out by the roots.

For the most part, though, the two of you would be chatting away like it was just another day. Nami’s not the type to let a little pain faze her, and she’d take the opportunity to catch up, swap stories, or maybe even get the latest gossip from you.

Once the waxing is done, Nami will pause to admire the results, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she runs her fingers over her freshly smooth skin. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she’d say with a pleased smile, clearly impressed with how everything turned out. Any lingering redness or irritation wouldn’t phase her in the slightest; she’d already have some soothing lotion on hand, applying it with the practiced ease of someone who’s been through this routine many times before.

After making sure everything’s perfect, she’d flash you a grin. “You did a great job,” she’d say, a hint of genuine appreciation in her tone. And because she’s not one to keep something good to herself, she’d probably hold out her leg toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Go ahead, feel how smooth they are,” she’d encourage, clearly eager to show off just how soft her skin is now.

But just when you thought you were in the clear, happily basking in the relief that Nami enjoyed the waxing session despite the occasional sting, Nami gives you a smile—one of those sweet, too-innocent ones that immediately puts you on edge. Before you can even process what’s happening, Nami turns to you with that sweet, knowing smile of hers, holding up the waxing materials like a challenge. “Your turn!” she announces cheerfully, and it dawns on you that things are far from over.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ BONUS ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

You blink, momentarily dumbfounded. “Wait, what? Nami, no, I’m good. Really. I’m totally fine.” But she’s not hearing any of it. “Come on, we’re going to have matching smooth legs! It’ll be fun!”

“Fun for who?” You protest, trying to back away as she advances with the wax strips. “Nami, seriously, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘keep my hair’ kind of person.”

“Oh, come on,” Nami insists, her smile widening as she edges closer. “It’s not that bad! We’re gonna match—smooth legs for everyone!”

You try to squirm out of it, but Nami’s determination is as solid as the Thousand Sunny itself. “Nami, please, we can talk about this! I’ll give you all my berries, or maybe I can wax someone else for you!”

“Not a chance,” she grins. “You’ve already committed. Now hold still!” Before you know it, she’s expertly applying the wax, and your protests turn into frantic pleas. “Nami, come on, let’s not do anything rash.”

“Too late!” she chirps as she preps the first strip. “You’re going to love this.”

“NAMI, WAIT—!”

With a swift motion, Nami rips off the first strip, and in that instant, you feel a jolt of fiery pain shoot through your leg. It’s like your soul has just been forcibly evicted from your body.

“AARRRRGHHHH!” The scream that escapes your lips is loud, raw, and absolutely blood-curdling. It echoes through the entire ship, startling birds from nearby trees and probably sending some poor marine scrambling for cover somewhere in the distance.

The rest of the crew pauses mid-task as they hear your shriek of horror.

“Sounds like someone’s having a rough time,” Zoro comments, raising an eyebrow but not moving from his spot.

“Are they… Are they torturing someone in there?” Usopp asks, wide-eyed.

But before anyone can even think of rushing to your aid, Nami’s calm, reassuring voice rings out, though it’s almost drowned out by your continued screams of agony. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Everything’s under control!” she calls, her tone as soothing as someone trying to calm a wild animal. “Just a little waxing!”

Inside the room, you’re practically convulsing, clutching your leg with a mix of horror and disbelief. “Nami…that was—ow—absolutely brutal! I think I’m dying!” Nami’s smile is as bright as ever as she pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It isn’t that bad, just a little sting!”

The second strip is suddenly torn off, and you let out another soul-piercing scream that echoes throughout the entire ship. The sound is so loud and terrifying that even the fish swimming under the Thousand Sunny probably stop dead in their tracks.

Meanwhile, outside, the crew is collectively wincing with every scream you let out. “Maybe we should just let them handle it,” Robin suggests with a small smile, knowing better than to get in Nami’s way.

“Yeah, good luck to them,” Franky adds, cringing as another scream reverberates through the air.

Luffy, who’s lounging nearby, tilts his head and grins. “Hey, maybe they’ll have smooth legs like me!”

Back in the room, you’re gripping the sides of your seat, your knuckles white as you endure yet another strip being pulled off. “Nami, this has to be illegal in at least ten countries!”

“Relax, you’re doing great!” Nami reassures you, her voice as chipper as ever, even as you let out another ear-splitting shriek. “Just a few more and we’ll be done!”

“Just a few more?!” you practically wail, but it’s no use.

The crew collectively decides that maybe it’s best not to check in on you just yet. After all, they know better than to interfere when Nami’s on a mission.

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