#as well as his ability to feel emotions <3< /div>
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Ohhhh real.... To be honest SMG4 himself i never really dug into his character that much, Puzzles is the 2nd character I've ever over analyzed in this silly show and it's really neat seeing your perspective on the subject! Because looking back I defo see it now. Puzzles being the bad ending to (Gotta Be Perfect) bc
A: no friends /ayo he got no bitc-/
B: now he's a perfectionist in the cruelest ways
Like i was talking to friends about Puzzles and said at some point "I wanna make perfect shows and entertain the masses!! What better way to have full control of the screen than to BE a screen!!! "
That's likely along the lines of what would have happened to 4 if 3 didn't step in and confess friendship to him and remind him he has more to live for than just his channel making his friends around him happy.
Awesome point of view mate!!! Good eye!!!
___
Oh yes Puzzles is such a little freakazoid and i LOVE him for thaaaaaat!!! Hes so protective and he does obviously care for her on DEEP levels he's so silly! But due to his lack of social skills he doesnt know how to portray that/is HORRIFIED of opening up because everytime he did try to open up he was shut down in one way or another and his only friend was the TV.
He gen tries with Leggy but - /information
It is important that I share what i mean when i say i think Puzzles has Low Empathy VS the ability to show Care
They are 2 very different things bc while he cares so ungodly deep for her, he doesn't do well in thinking about How She Feels .when he makes her upset he gets that she is upset but doesnt fully understand WHY he made her upset. And while Luigi is not a friend, Mr.Puzzles was gen trying to be nice to get past and failed miserably x,D
I love how well written he is, his lack of communication skills is so yummyyyyyy
Also its been fun rambling back and forth w you for realzzzz love ur opinions and views :0
soooâŚ
WOTFI
THEY DIDNT ADDRESS ANY OF THE PARALLELS AND THEN THEY
INSTITUTIONALIZED HIM
Iâm so mad about this. Iâm so mad. Iâm so mad.
because okay. Okay remember this.
His super dramatic flinch here and there was that post going around like âI wonder what happened in Mr Puzzlesâ childhood to make him flinch like thatâ
CHILD PUZZLES DOES THE SAME THING
EVERY TIME MEGGY/LEGGY APPROACHES HIM HE FLINCHES. HE COWERS. EVEN OUTSIDE OF THE POTENTIAL CONCLUSION HE WAS BEATEN, SOMEONE GENUINELY CARING ABOUT HIM IS SUCH A FOREIGN CONCEPT THAT HE ASSUMES THE ONLY REASON ANYONE WOULD GET CLOSE IS TO HARM HIM.
AND HEâS NOT EVEN WRONG?! THATâS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS?
THEY INSTITUTIONALIZED HIM HE IS TIED TO A TABLE IN A PADDED ROOM. THEY APPEALED TO HIS HUMANITY AND FOUND THE GOOD IN HIM AND THEY USED IT AGAINST HIM.
YOU THINK THATLL HELP HIM? TARGETING THE MOST VULNERABLE PART OF HIMSELF AND GETTING HIM SENT TO AN ASYLUM?
AND IT SUCKS BECAUSE I WAS LEGITIMATELY ENJOYING THE EPISODE BEFORE THAT! I was having fun until that ending. Thatâs literally the one thing I didnât like. The scene with Kid Puzzles was really well done. Everybodyâs outfits were so cool. IGBP flesh blobs were there that was really cool
but then
I hate this. Genuinely worse than killing him off to me. It just feels wrong
#mrpuzzles#mr puzzles#smg4#smg3#smg4 mr puzzles#smg4 smg3#smg4 meggy#meggy spletzer#puzzlevision#wotfi 2024#ramble away#rambles#super long post#such a long post#like really long post#chitter chatter#opinion sharing#tw: mental ward#tw: mental hospital#insane asylum#cw mental hospital#cw mental ward
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Power Switch + @murderdeals ' Crowley lmao
The Nightmare blinks. And to its surprise, its eyelids slide over something spherical and wet.
He blinks again, this time in complete astoundment. There is no rough pinch of teeth against his lashes. There is no tongue undulating deep in his sockets. They feel full.
He hands immediately reach to his face, dropping his head in his hands as hasty fingers press to the site of unnatural feeling. His index strikes the curve of his newly formed cornea. Lashes snap shut and he flinches back. That burns.
An impressed huff leaves his lips as he reaches his hands back, and his newly formed red eyes study the details of his palms. His vision is different- more focused. He now has peripherals- before he could see anything surrounding himself in lazer focus.
But now? His vision replicates what he has always seen through the eyes he consumed. But this isn't a fleeting moment of a few dozen memories- this is his own vision. It's real.
The Nightmare raises his head to look around like a man who has witnessed the birth of creation. Utterly taken aback, and in awe of what he sees. A pain grips his chest tightly, and he grimaces a little as a palm presses over his heart.
Its joy. He is feeling his own joy.
"Fuck... fuck."
The Nightmare exclaims quietly as it slowly swings in a circle to examine its entire surroundings. Taking in the experience of seeing the world through human eyes. They begin to itch, he blinks. He feels something wet rolling down his cheeks. A quick wipe with his fingers confirm that the liquid is clear.
Red irises come to fall on another figure- hunched over himself and facing away from the Nightmare- it's Crowley.
"Crowley- fuck- Crowley I have eyes." His giddiness can barely be contained as he rushes to the Demon's side, a hand on his shoulder, encouraging the Demon to -look-.
"Look at me- what colour are they? Do you have a mirror-" the Nightmare abruptly falls silent when his newly formed gaze meets what is left of Crowley's face.
A brief moment of fear strikes him that he had consumed Crowley's eyes- but no, beneath dark lashes, the Corinthian can see teeth.
That elation is carved down by a sudden icy stab of dread.
@qapsiel
@murderdeals
#((corinth gets crowleys eyes as a TREAT#as well as his ability to feel emotions <3#hes a happy boy#qapsiel#murderdeals#ic
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no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.
and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.
the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.
and none of them was celebrating.
mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.
and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.
for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.
but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.
the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.
i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.
how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.
and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.
it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it
#sorry. i cannot shut up about this. this scene stuck with me the moment i saw it and i just couldn't get it out of my head#i mean. i liked essek well enough. i just got attached to other characters more. but then 'it's not fair' happened and it sealed the deal#it was just. so beautiful. so sincere. so important for a character who just started to learn how to care about people#his reaction wasn't intentional. it didn't change anything. but it showed how humane he had become. how deeply he cared#mighty nein are no joke pal#they're gonna make you feel all these unknown emotions like sympathy and love and affection even when they're incredibly painful#essek experiencing closeness and attachment in all their forms. as something beautiful and something aching. is so important to me#they saved him because they had good hearts! and these good hearts sparked so much joy around them!#but if a good heart grants you an ability to experience joy so profoundly. it makes everything else feel like that#you get it. i hope you get it. anyway e140 did so much psychic damage on me i probably will never recover#in a good way mostly <3 but yeah. yeah. it makes me feel a little insane#the mighty nein#essek thelyss#critical role
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!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#A great episode tbh especially given the low budget. I feel like they really did their very best#And even though what I'm going to say next is probably going to be all critic - because I nitpick things and that's what I always end upâ#talking about - I still want to underline that it was a very solid and enjoyable episode!!!#Alright the ss/kk was so đđđ every scene I had to rewatch twice or thrice akhscbashfb they're so cute!!!#Except for the riding scene tho. That scene gives me massive second hand embarrassment every time I just wish it will end as fast asâ#possible pffttt. Mmmmhhh... The drawings weren't even too bad all accounted. My main complain is about the quicksand scene...#I feel like that one should be a slow quiet emotional scene. I never licked the choice of using the song as background soundtrack :/#I feel like it ruins the mood of the scene (it was still good though)#I also... Generally don't like the direction they seem to go for with Akutagawa's character in the animeâ he seems quite a bit flatterâ#compared to how he is in the manga. He can't be angry and evil ALL the time you need to show that softness get through from time to time.#If not what even is the point of his character. Yet in the anime he's angry (and not distraught) when he loses the mine craft and he'sâ#angry when he's questioning Atsushi about his motifs and he's angry when he's bragging about Atsushi's abilities to Goncharov and he'sâ#angry when he makes the promise with Atsushi at the end of the episode and eventually he'll be just as angry even when telling Atsushiâ#to run away as he's sacrificing his life for him. It is pretty flat at the end of the day.#If I can say something about K/ensho Ono without being killed I think they do contribute to making him feel angry all the time.#But that said it's all probably poor directing choices (or simply choices I don't agree with).#Alsoâ about cuts. Usually I try to be lenient about itâ I understand it's hard to fit in everything and b/sd already does a veryâ#good job by adapting the manga almost panel-by panel. It's just that... You skip Akutagawa showing compassion for Atsushi after theâ#orphanage director died. You skip Atsushi sharing the same compassion when Akutagawa loses his targed in the mines chase. You skip theâ#âNothing special about that. // I suppose he's far crueler than my own mentor.â line. And sure each of them may be negligible by their own#But together they wave a consistent web of relationship between the two characters you know? And it's a loss to omit them all#Well no mind. Again it was still a great episode overall!!!!#I think the colors in the mines could have been prettier in the mines but we can't have it all#Off to season 4!!! Omg I can't believe we got this far :DDD#random rambles#FINALLY was able to catch up in time for the season 3 finale!!!!!!
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ŕą¨ŕ§ Ë ŕŁŞâš SAFEGUARD â dazai, chuuya, akutagawa
summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.
contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself â 3.5k total
notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3
đđđđđđ . . .
there are very few times that chuuya feels heâs been outsmarted. he knows heâs not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isnât a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.Â
your relationship isnât a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isnât a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know itâs hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesnât have the power of a god nestled inside of her.
the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemiesâ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.Â
the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.Â
chuuya kills them all â except for one.
the manâs knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesnât last long, though, before heâs wrapping a hand around the manâs throat, thrusting him backwards.Â
âwhere is she?â chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.Â
he can feel the man swallowing.Â
chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it wonât matter whether they show up or not. heâll crush the rest of his enemies just as heâs crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.Â
âi-iâll take you to her,â he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuyaâs hand.Â
he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before heâs kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.
the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.Â
how fiercely and loyally he loves you â it drives him to near insanity.Â
finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.Â
chuuyaâs rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. âget the fuck away from her,â he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.
âwhat are you doing in here?â the men left in the room panic, but they donât have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.Â
limply, they fall to the floor.Â
chuuya rushes over to you.Â
the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isnât worried about him. heâs a coward; heâll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and heâll burn this building to the ground once heâs gotten you away from it.Â
âhey,â chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. heâs not sure if itâs exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but youâre still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.Â
âhey,â he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. âwake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?âÂ
it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. âchuuya?â you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. âis it really you?âÂ
guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and youâre delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably havenât eaten, either.Â
he shouldâve been there. no one shouldâve ever had the chance to hurt you, yetâŚ
âitâs me, iâm here,â he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. âshit,â chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. âiâm so sorry, i��m so sorry.âÂ
he canât get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. âitâs okay, chuuya,â you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. âyouâre here now.âÂ
âyou have to stay awake,â he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesnât know how hurt you are. chuuyaâs no expert when it comes to medicine, but heâs smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.Â
âstay awake for me, okay, honey? iâll get you back to the boss and weâll find you a doctor. youâll be just fine.âÂ
âokay, chuuya,â you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, âi just want to go home.âÂ
"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.Â
finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. youâre so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. âletâs get you home.âÂ
đđđđđđđđđ. . .
the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.Â
normally, he doesnât stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.Â
with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to moriâs office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone elseâs jobs had been completed. heâs a lot of things, but heâs never been a slacker; and heâll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.
though, he doesnât have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.Â
he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored â an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.Â
âhow rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?â mori says, sighing histrionically.
but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if itâs been dipped in ice. he canât explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldnât feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.Â
but you⌠youâre different.Â
âcan i trust you to diffuse the situation?â mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. âi can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.âÂ
akutagawa doesnât even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.Â
he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.
thereâs a ransom â bring them the money and theyâll return you, mori had told him. youâre only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.Â
mori probably wouldâve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.Â
as regrettable as that may be.
akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.Â
âare we not in a rush?â akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.
âapologies,â the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest. Â
even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.Â
akutagawa doesnât care who they are. he doesnât care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. heâll rip them apart, easily, and heâll make them suffer â theyâll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.Â
what he feels for you⌠well, itâs too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesnât even know if thatâs his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.
and he canât do that if youâre dead.
finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. itâs tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesnât want to be found.Â
akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.Â
a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.Â
though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.Â
he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and youâre there â bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.Â
his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.Â
âwhere are they?â he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.Â
you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, heâs so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.Â
âgone,â you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. âthey fled when they heard it was you coming.âÂ
âand left you?â he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions arenât as visible on his features as he thinks they are. âwere you not a ransom?âÂ
âno,â you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. âi was bait.â
anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. âiâll go after them. where are they headed? theyâll pay, iâll slaughterââ
âryunosuke,â you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. âstay.âÂ
he has half a mind to ignore you â the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes⌠you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.Â
âplease,â you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.Â
he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what heâs doing with you.Â
âiâll call hirotsu,â he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.Â
đđđđđ . . .
dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.Â
though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.Â
his only love â his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.Â
dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.Â
but he canât always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.Â
he shouldâve at least told you to take a friend.Â
âboss,â his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. âiâm so sorry. your wifeââ
âif anything⌠anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?â dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. âi will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.âÂ
âof course, sir,â the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the bossâs wife to get herself into such a situation.Â
and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harmâs way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isnât able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.Â
with all the strings heâs able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesnât take long to find you, for those that have bravely â or stupidly â used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.Â
thereâs little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.Â
heâs already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they wonât have ever existed.Â
today, he doesnât care what happens as long as he finds you alive.Â
youâre held hostage by two men â so completely beaten that theyâve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you canât even open them.Â
dazai doesnât hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.Â
slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.Â
he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemyâs face changes â any of his remaining hope vanishes.Â
âyou told me she was unharmed,â dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.Â
the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. âwe lied.â he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.Â
dazai hums. âyou the leader?âÂ
the man doesnât give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. heâs no one â just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.Â
âdidnât think so.â dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.Â
dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, youâve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him â the worst side of him.Â
youâre no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when youâve shared a life with him for years? but that doesnât mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.Â
he stumbles over to you, where youâre still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isnât right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.Â
it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.Â
âiâm sorry,â he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that heâll hurt you even more. âiâm sorry, darling. i shouldâve â i shouldâve been there.â dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. âfuck. fuck â iâll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. iâll cut them down one by one.âÂ
âosamu,â you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. âiââ
you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words donât leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.
âhey, hey, hey.â dazaiâs voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch thatâs barely there. âyouâre safe. iâm here, okay? theyâre not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.âÂ
you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.
âcan you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?âÂ
you hesitate for a moment before answering; heâs not sure if thereâs a reason you only answer the first question. âi can walk.âÂ
dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you â and thatâs all that matters.
thank you for reading !!! â¤ď¸
#bsd x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x reader#osamu dazai x you#dazai x you#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x you#bsd x you#bsd imagines#bsd x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#chuuya imagines#bsd fanfic#bsd x gender neutral reader#dazai x fem reader#akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader#akutagawa x you#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa x y/n
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I wonder how would everyone in twst deal with shapeshifter!reader that shapeshifts according to the emotions they feel, kinda like penny from amazing world of gumball (mouse for fear, Medusa if they are angry, dragon when furious, etc.)
Shapeshifter! Reader shifts according to emotions
hi! thank you for the request, I'm not familiar with amazing world of gumball so if this is not what you wanted, you can let me know <3
Riddle Rosehearts
At first, heâs baffled by your transformations. When he catches you breaking a rule, and you suddenly shrink into a mouse out of fear, he goes redder than his own dormâs color scheme. âThis isnât in the rule book!â he shouts, trying to keep a straight face while pointing at your tiny, squeaking form. "Get back here! I wasnât that scary!"
Ace Trappola:
"This is hilarious!" Ace cackles when you transform into a chicken after a jump scare prank he pulls. "Every time you freak out, Iâm gonna get free eggs!" He starts carrying around a list of emotions and their potential animal counterparts just to mess with you. Heâs particularly fond of when you turn into something inconvenient at the worst moments.
Deuce Spade:
He panics when you become a snake after he accidentally insults you. "W-Wait, I didnât mean to offend you! I swear I respect you!" Deuce waves his arms frantically, but the snake version of you doesnât look impressed. Eventually, he ends up apologizing to a tree you slithered up, hoping for forgiveness.
Cater Diamond:
"Oh my Sevens, this is prime Magicam content!" Cater says, snapping pictures every time you transform. âYouâre a walking meme factory!â He probably starts a hashtag dedicated to your transformations: #EmoshiftGoals. No matter the situation, heâs there to document your form, even if youâre a giant octopus stuck in a doorway.
Trey Clover:
Trey is unphased, which only makes it worse. "Youâre a dragon, huh? Well, would you still like some pastries?" He offers you a cupcake while youâre snarling as a massive fire-breathing lizard. Somehow, his calm demeanor just makes you feel more ridiculous, and you shapeshift back out of sheer embarrassment.
Leona Kingscholar:
Heâs absolutely done with it when you shapeshift into something large and ridiculous, like a lion that rivals him in size. "Seriously? Thatâs how you deal with anger?" he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes and turning away. âYouâre going to destroy the dorm, herbivore. Quit roaring at me before I kick you out.â
Ruggie Bucchi:
Ruggie sees dollar signs whenever you transform. âYo, if you turn into a rare animal, I can sell tickets!â Heâs already plotting ways to exploit your shapeshifting for his own gain, offering to âprotectâ you in exchange for some madols. Youâre too busy struggling not to turn into a weasel from frustration.
Jack Howl:
He respects your ability, but heâs mildly concerned when you shift into a rhino after a workout, clearly overwhelmed by how sore you are. "Hey, I get the effort, but donât take down the gym equipment with your horns," Jack warns, not knowing how to help while you smash everything in sight. Itâs all part of âgetting swole,â right?
Azul Ashengrotto:
Heâs actually kind of jealous of your ability. When you transform into something like a Medusa during a heated negotiation, Azulâs glasses slip down his nose. âLetâs keep calm, shall we?â he says nervously, trying to maintain his cool. He starts drafting up a contract for your transformation abilities, hoping to exploit your forms to boost the Monstro Loungeâs appeal.
Jade Leech:
Fascinated. When you shift into a giant squid out of excitement for finding a rare mushroom with him, Jadeâs eyes gleam with interest. âHow intriguing... I wonder if your emotions could inspire even rarer forms.â He offers you âstimulatingâ experiences to study your shapeshifting, but heâs just looking for an excuse to see your dragon form again.
Floyd Leech:
Heâs your biggest fan. Every time you shift into something, Floyd is there, demanding to âsee the big oneâ â aka your dragon form. âCome on, let me fight ya while youâre a dragon! Itâll be fun!â Youâd think being a massive fire-breathing lizard would scare him, but nope. Heâs more excited.
Kalim Al-Asim:
Kalim finds your ability endlessly fun. âWhoa, youâre a parrot now! Thatâs amazing!â He just claps and laughs every time you transform, not even fazed when you accidentally turn into a giant elephant during a banquet. âThis is the best party ever!â He starts planning parties around your emotions just to see what you turn into next.
Jamil Viper:
Jamilâs patience is tested when you shapeshift into an overly dramatic form every time you get slightly annoyed. You turn into a cobra when he criticizes your cooking, and he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I donât have time to deal with this. Canât you at least stay human for five minutes?" You hiss in reply.
Vil Schoenheit:
Vilâs irritation reaches an all-time high when he realizes you can shapeshift into ethereal, otherworldly beings, making even him feel average. The moment you turn into an angelic being, radiating beauty, he stares in stunned silence before murmuring, "Iâm not envious... but perhaps you could tone it down? Youâre stealing the spotlight."
Rook Hunt:
Obsessed. Rook is utterly captivated by your ability and considers it a masterpiece of emotional expression. "Magnifique!" he exclaims every time you transform, sketchbook in hand. He spends hours praising your forms in flowery French, even when youâre just a tiny bunny hiding in a corner from Vilâs glare.
Epel Felmier:
Epel is torn between awe and jealousy when you become a giant bear in a fit of anger. âDang it, I wanna be that big!â He tries to rile you up just to see your more fearsome forms, hoping to get some tips on how to be more intimidating. When you become a giant stag beetle, heâs both inspired and a little scared.
Idia Shroud:
Idiaâs both fascinated and terrified by your shapeshifting. âYouâre basically a walking, talking MMORPG character with transformation hacks,â he mutters, eyes wide as you morph into a Cerberus when angry. He pulls out his tablet, muttering, "Okay, letâs not piss them off anymore, or itâs game over for me."
Ortho Shroud:
Ortho, on the other hand, is super excited about your ability. âBrother! Theyâve turned into a griffin! How cool is that?â He scans you with his sensors and starts rattling off facts about your transformations like a walking encyclopedia. He keeps asking for data on each shift, even if youâre currently a three-headed dog chewing through a chair.
Malleus Draconia:
Malleus is unsurprisingly unfazed. âAh, youâve become a dragon,â he muses when you turn into a fearsome beast out of fury. "How... nostalgic." He gives you pointers on how to properly roar and fly, treating your transformation as a normal Tuesday. âLet me know if youâd like some pointers on being a more regal dragon.â
Lilia Vanrouge:
Lilia finds it hilarious when you shapeshift uncontrollably. "Ah, such youthful vigor!" he says, clapping as you morph into a bat out of anxiety. He starts comparing your forms to his own transformations, occasionally pranking you just to see what youâll turn into. When you become a spider, he dangles from the ceiling, poking fun at your eight legs.
Sebek Zigvolt:
Sebek yells in disbelief whenever you turn into anything he deems less than âworthy.â âYou turned into a sheep? Preposterous! Thatâs no form for someone in the presence of Lord Malleus!â But when you shift into a dragon, he practically throws himself at your feet. âAt last! A proper transformation!â
Silver:
Silver just... naps through most of your transformations. You could be a raging tiger, and heâd probably sleep through it. When he wakes up and finds you in some new form, he just rubs his eyes and says, âOh, youâre a phoenix now? Thatâs cool,â before falling asleep again.
Crowley: "This is a rare magical ability!" Crowley says, trying to use your talents to bolster the school's reputation. He wants you to shapeshift during big events, but every time youâre stressed, you turn into a giant tortoise and refuse to move. Heâs not thrilled.
Trein: He lectures you on controlling your emotions to prevent transformations, but even heâs secretly amused when you turn into a kitten after falling asleep in his class. He just sighs and lets you nap on the desk.
Crewel: When you shift into a ferocious wolf during an argument, Crewel just nods approvingly. "Good, good. Use that tenacity!" Heâs secretly proud of your feral forms but wonât admit it outright.
Vargas: âA shapeshifter, huh?â Vargas immediately makes you part of every athletic event, hoping youâll turn into something big and fast. When you become a cheetah, he practically cheers. âThatâs what I like to see! Speed and power! Keep it up!" He starts using your transformations as a benchmark for the rest of the class, causing you to shift into an armadillo out of sheer stress from his overenthusiasm.
Rollo Flamme:
Rollo: He tries to maintain his usual calm and collected demeanor, but every time you shapeshift into something bizarre like a raven when youâre feeling anxious around him, he gets increasingly frustrated. âThis is not an excuse for chaos,â he mutters through gritted teeth. But when you morph into a seraphim in a fit of anger, glowing and majestic, Rollo's attitude shifts to discomfort mixed with awe. âWe need... order, not divine intervention.â
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#azul x reader#malleus x reader#rook x reader#epel x reader#floyd x reader#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#leona x reader#ruggie x reader#jack howl x reader#silver x reader#lilia x reader#idia x reader#ortho shroud#nrc staff#vil x reader#rook hunt x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#kalim x reader#jamil x reader#rollo x reader
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đ¨ââ đ´ ââđł ââđŤââ đŞ ââđ¸ââ đ¸ ââđŽ ââđ´ ââđłâ ďź
BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.
⡠A/N â yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck
â
FT. â dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor
!! TAGS â mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff
"i love you."
á´
á´á´˘á´ÉŞ.
promptly replies with, "i love you too."
he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking
when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin
and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before
he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too
definitely asks for double suicide later
"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."
"Mhm."
"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.
"Dazai, you already said yes."
"I'll say it again!"
âá´Ęá´á´Ęá´.
he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine
poor boy is really confused đ because "where did that come from??"
he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside
we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it
will decide to give it a shot tho
100% calls dazai to brag about it
"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"
You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.
"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."
Ęá´É´á´á´.
"i know."
he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc
he's known about this since like soooo long
he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess
went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D
eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie
"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"
He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"
á´á´á´á´á´É˘á´á´Ąá´.
"eh???"
like chuuya, he's pretty confused too
"are you sure?"
tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster
he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up
also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?
reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world
"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.
"I'll try my best."
"You don't have to."
"But I want to!"
He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.
"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."
á´á´ęąá´ęąĘÉŞ.
screams
"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"
jumps around everywhere in happiness
you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around
either that or he just faints
he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.
you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3
"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.
"Yes?"
"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"
ę°Ęá´á´
á´Ę.
no reaction. im sorry
spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work
you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????
will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??
he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work
and that's his way of saying yes
He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.
"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."
"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"
"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.
Š chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.
#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd scenarios#bsd hcs#bsd headcanons#dazai hcs#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#chuuya imagines#chuuya x reader#fyodor hcs#fyodor x you#fyodor x reader#akutagawa hcs#akutagawa x reader#chuuya headcanons#dazai headcanons#dazai x you#fyodor imagines#atsushi hcs#atsushi nakajima#atsushi x reader#dazai bsd
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sal fisher headcanons
i've literally never been so horrendously down bad for a character before.. so i HAD to share my head canons for sal :3
CW: NSFW AHEAD!!
fluff <3
⥠he would try to teach you guitar, even if you arent very good at it...
⥠if you have sh scars, he'd kiss them over and over and over again, no matter where they are
⥠blushes over everything you do, any little touch you give him, he gets flustered over
⥠"ummmmm... uhh- i- well.. umm"
⥠he loves giving you things. for whatever reason, he's always gifting you small trinkets to show his love for you. his favorite excuse for buying you something is "it reminded me of you!"
⥠not the kinda guy who goes for looks. no matter how 'ugly' you think you are, he'll wholeheartedly see you as the most beautiful person in the world.
⥠with that being said.. he'd definitely stop in his tracks if he saw a cutie :3
⥠(IT'S YOU, YOU'RE THE CUTIE. EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IS HIS TYPE. GOD, HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT FOR HIM??)
⥠if you ever mention something in a conversation (a band you like, a cool movie you just watched or a book you read, etc.) he's definitely going home and learning all he can about it.
⥠wholesome romance like those in the romcom movies
⥠"i love everybody because i love you" /ref /ly
⥠would totally let you paint his nails, do his hair, anything like that. he loves when you make him feel pretty <3
⥠doesn't want anyone to know this, but he loves wearing your clothes. like, you know the whole "wearing you bf's jacket/hoodie" thing? that's what he wants, but with your clothes.
⥠obviously he won't deny you his hoodie, but deep down he's waiting for you to give him yours
⥠LOVES giving long, deep, passionate hugs. hugs and cuddle sessions that can go on for an hour. he loves squeezing you against him, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside; being so close to someone he loves so much
⥠he WILL sniff you. he can't get enough of your scent. at first he was scared you would think it was weird, but now he does it freely. he's a very sensual person, and because of his disability (possibly impaired sight?), he often relies on his other senses to soak up every little piece of you.
⥠he loves wrapping you in his arms, cradling and comforting you if he knows you need it.
⥠he's excellent at reading you. he feels like he knows you best. despite being someone who can't really show his emotions through his expressions, he's amazing at reading yours.
⥠you don't even have to tell him anythings wrong. he knows when you need a hug.
nsfw :3
⥠definitely has a mommy kink. argue with the wall.
⥠it just slipped out one day.. you were riding him, making him feel good and warm, and all of a sudden he let out a small "m-mommy..!"
⥠that being said, he LOVES having you on top of him
⥠while you're straddling him, he grabs you by your hips to make sure you're not going anywhere
⥠very shy + whimpering mess
⥠the kind to not know where to put his hands
⥠that doesn't mean he sometimes doesn't have a dom side to him...
⥠he's definitely a giver. he prioritizes your pleasure before his own
⥠he's insecure about his ability to turn you on, make you cum, etc. he always tries his hardest to make you feel good, and lets just say it always works :3
⥠jerks off to the thought of you more than he would like to admit
⥠has a VERY vivid imagination.
⥠oh god the things he thinks about doing to you are almost to embarrassing for him to admit
⥠very sweet and loving the whole time. he's huge on praise, and would rather die than ever make you uncomfortable. your sessions are filled with millions of
"are you liking that?" "you're doing so good for me." "are you okay with this?" "you feel amazing (y/n)"
⥠he needs 100% confirmation on your dirty suggestions. you could make a hint, but won't act on it until he's absolutely sure you mean it (obviously you always do, but god is this boy insecure.)
⥠doesn't seem like it, but will fuck you like a rabbit. it's always the quiet, sweet boys who are the dirtiest behind closed doors :3
⥠likes being bitten. idk. idc. IDGAF.
#this is my first post you guys im scared#sally face#sally face smut#sally face headcanons#sal fisher#sal fisher x y/n#sal fisher headcanons#sal fisher x you#sally face x reader#sally face fluff#sal fisher smut#sal fisher fluff#character headcanons#headcanon
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my soul to keep ⥠vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader
nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops
word count: 6.4k
tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie
description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.
a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA
divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!
my masterlist âĄ
my ao3 âĄ
fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;
-venus âĄ
The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well⌠he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion.Â
But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasnât something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didnât have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat.Â
Until he found you.Â
You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile.Â
And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldnât bring himself to do it. He didnât want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you.Â
He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe youâd held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them.Â
And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself.Â
He couldnât allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldnât risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods⌠but not before leaving you a gift.Â
His gift. The gift.
Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldnât take it anymoreâ if he didnât leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldnât have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.
Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.
And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea.Â
He wasnât a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago.Â
The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening.Â
The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you.Â
The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldnât risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community.Â
You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didnât even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess youâd just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result.Â
As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didnât react.Â
Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldnât be harmed. You wouldnât change, you wouldnât grow, you wouldnât die.
Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.
By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground.Â
Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didnât mean anything at all. Your illness wasnât going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you.Â
As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box youâd been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didnât need to know theyâd be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground.Â
Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.
It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it.Â
When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon.Â
The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them.Â
âThere you are, darling,â he greeted you warmly, the first words heâd ever spoken to you. âHow are you feeling?â
"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"
âIâm Leon,â he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, âand this is your new home.âÂ
You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; âAm I⌠Did I die?âÂ
Leon wasnât quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, âSomething like that, yes.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
âShh, donât worry,â he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. âYouâre safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. Iâm just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?âÂ
Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to.Â
But that didnât make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at firstâ after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anythingâ but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism.Â
He tried everything he could think of. You wouldnât drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didnât want for you.Â
For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldnât truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldnât come at the cost of your own well-being.
He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasnât often heâd stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.
Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didnât really dawn on him immediately what that meant⌠until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you.Â
You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didnât even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding.Â
âSweetheart,â he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healerâs carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. âEasy now, youâll make yourself sick.âÂ
Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you werenât feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didnât move.Â
Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. âMy poor baby,â he sighed softly, âIt gets easier, I promise. Iâm so proud of you.âÂ
He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess youâd made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman whoâd tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family.Â
So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.
When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasnât sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his.Â
Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, âWhat am I going to do with you, huh?âÂ
âI-Iâm sorry,â you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. âI d-didnât want to h-hurt herâŚâÂ
âShh, shh, I know, darling,â his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. âSheâs going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this canât happen again, okay? Iâll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.âÂ
You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.
It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadnât seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really.Â
Youâd taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room.Â
But he would never scold you, never tell you âno.â In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness.Â
So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than heâd like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple questionâ âWhat now?â-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond.Â
âIndulge,â he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. âLet me ask you this. Whatâs something youâve always wanted to do?â
You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didnât leave you wanting for much.
Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."
It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldnât have heard you. But he wasnât, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine.Â
Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasnât looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, âYou poor thing, youâve never loved before?âÂ
Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. âN-No,â you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. âI guess I just never had the chance.âÂ
âWhat, not enough fish in your little pond?â He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you.Â
You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasnât exactly wrong. âI mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.âÂ
âI figured as much.âÂ
A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, âSo⌠What does it feel like, then?âÂ
âWhat does what feel like?â He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it.Â
âYâknowâŚâ You kicked your frilly socked feet, âLove?âÂ
âWell, sweetheart, thatâs quite a broad question,â Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldnât possibly be more adorable if you tried.
As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, âThere are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you donât love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"
He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.
Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.
âItâs the same thing, just a different kind of love. Iâm not sure I know how to describe it, really,â he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. âBut I could show you?âÂ
âShow me?â Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. âShow me how?âÂ
He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, âLike this.âÂ
With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leonâs embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything youâd ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldnât help but fear you were doing a poor job.Â
So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more.Â
He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training.Â
You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint.Â
Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. Heâd waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.
But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.
You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either.Â
He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative.Â
"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck.Â
As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others.Â
Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him.Â
And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break.Â
You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach.Â
The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more.Â
"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."
But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention.Â
Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.
Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all.Â
Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off.Â
"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..."Â
He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun.Â
It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss.Â
"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand.Â
With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls.Â
"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"
Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same.Â
Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"
The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers.Â
Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried.Â
He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came.Â
So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright.Â
"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..."Â
He wouldn't dream of it.Â
Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...
Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest.Â
For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside.Â
"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."
"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison.Â
Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity.Â
His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you.Â
And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance.Â
You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first.Â
So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there.Â
"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..."Â
Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.
But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.
Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to.Â
Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy.Â
You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.
"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you."Â
He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening.Â
"I love you too, little one."
#venustext#sintext#resident evil#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#vampire leon kennedy#vampire leon#dividers by saradika-graphics
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If They Were Your Pet Cat
Happy Cat Day (22.02)! I was inspired to write a few headcanons about what the boys would be like as cats.
I wanted to include a few more boys, but my brain ran out of juice.
Parts 2 and 3 with Honkai Star Rail boys here and here.
Contains: Kaveh, Alhaitham, Itto, Scaramouche, Venti, and Dainsleif.
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Kaveh:
đˇ Is a Siberian breed.
đˇ When you first brought him home, Kaveh took a while to warm up to you. He was wary of your intentions and reluctant to let you touch him. With some patience and gentleness, you eventually melted the golden felineâs heart, and he became inseparable from you. Wherever you go in the house, he follows, or at the very least checks on you to know where you are.
đˇ Kaveh is very sensitive to your emotional state. If youâre feeling depressed, he likes to lay on your chest and purr until you feel better. When you cry, heâs always by your side, rubbing his cheeks against you and licking at your face as if trying to wipe them away. He doesnât leave your side until heâs sure youâre alright.
đˇ Due to your work/school, Kaveh is used to you coming and going at certain times as a part of your daily routine. However, if you come home later than usual, expect to have a grumpy cat on your hands. He will angrily meow at you non-stop and flick his tail in annoyance. He doesnât like being alone, and he lets you have a piece of his mind if you leave him alone for long periods of time. Heâll sulk unless you coax him with some treats and gentle pats. Spending some time grooming or playing with him usually calms him down afterward.
đˇ Is very good with having guests over. Kaveh is a sociable cat and always greets anyone that comes through the door and gives them a sniff to learn who they are. Heâs open to being petted by others but prefers to sit on your lap as opposed to your friends or family.
đˇ Heâs a gorgeous cat but his coat is high maintenance. Because itâs so thick and long, he doesnât tolerate the heat well. He requires regular brushing and grooming to keep his coat healthy. Itâs a good thing he enjoys being petted because it makes grooming much easier. He tends to lean into your touch or the hairbrush when you stroke his body and purrs a lot throughout the entire process. He loves being pampered.
đˇ Kaveh likes to sleep on your bed, pressed up against you or lying on your chest. You got him a cat bed, but Kaveh still prefers to sleep right next to you in your bed.
đˇ Heâs generally very affectionate. He both loves to give you affection and receive it. Youâre not sure how well Kaveh understands what you say, but he always looks very smug whenever you praise him and give him scritches. Heâll headbutt you, asking for more head pats and affection.
đˇ You often find him staring out the window with rapture. Youâre not sure what captivates his attention so muchâmaybe the sunset, the rainbow after the rain, or perhaps the flowers that bloom right outside your window. Heâs also strangely attracted to lightning. Rather than get scared and hide, he sits by the window and stares out at the stormy skies.
Alhaitham:
đ§ Is a Russian blue.
đ§ Alhaitham is the quietest cat youâve ever met. Hearing him meow or make any kind of vocal sound is rare. Heâs also very introverted and prefers to spend time alone, hidden in some cozy nook or cranny.
đ§ Heâs also very stubborn and smart. If you want to put a silly little cat costume on him for laughs, you can forget it because Alhaitham will give you the slip every time without fail. Rather than try to chase and play hide-and-seek with him, itâs much easier to abandon the idea altogether. If he doesnât want something done to him, you wonât be able to force him.
đ§ As mentioned earlier, heâs a very smart cat. Alhaitham figured out how to open doors on his own, and is even able to open the fridge all by himself. Itâs a bit annoying because he sometimes uses his abilities to sneak a tasty little something from the fridge, but his intelligence is truly a marvel. When you speak to him, Alhaithamâs expressions and body language change in response to your words, almost as if he understands exactly what youâre saying and is reacting to it.
đ§ Most of your friends and family have only caught glimpses of him when they visit. Thatâs because Alhaitham dislikes having guests over, and tends to hide from them. He only comes out once they leave.
đ§ Heâs not a social cat in general and likes to keep his distance even from you. Heâs not a lap cat, and will jump off and leave if you try to force him to lay on your lap. When he does feel like being social, Alhaitham will lay beside you if youâre reading a book, or perch on your shoulder to observe what youâre doing.
đ§ Is a very lazy cat, so you frequently find him taking naps while lying in a warm spot of sunshine. If you disturb his nap by attempting to pet or poke him, he gives you a displeased look and flicks his tail in annoyance. Heâs very grumpy when his sleep is ruined.
đ§ Alhaitham never listens to strangers but does listen to you. If you call him over, he will come to you. He also tolerates your touch, and lets you squeeze and pet him without biting or scratching you. He looks unhappy about it, but lets you do as you please. However, if you ruin his attempts to leave once heâs had enough of your affection, he will take his revenge. That cup thatâs sitting near the edge of the table? Yeah, heâs gonna push that off and stare at you without remorse while it crashes to the ground.
Itto:
đ A Maine Coon.
đ Itto is not meant for a house cat lifestyle. Despite your best attempts to keep him indoors, the rascal always manages to slip out somehow and venture into the great outdoors. His yearning to explore the greater world is too strong for you to contain, so you have to make peace with the fact heâll spend most of his time roaming outside. On the bright side, Itto always comes home to you without fail, looking happy to see you and bask in your affection again.
đ He made friends with some stray cats in the area, so you have a small group of them regularly come to your porch and meow until you give them some food. Itâs a bit costly to feed so many mouths, but watching the cats play together or rub against your legs while purring affectionately convinces you itâs worth it.
đ Since Itto spends so much time outside, he tends to come home dirty and matted. He needs to be bathed to stay clean, but good luck getting him in the bath. He screams and yowls bloody murder every time you try to wash him, to the point that your neighbors knock on your door to ask whatâs going on. Thankfully, they grow accustomed to Ittoâs bathtime opera and stop pestering you about it.
đ Brushing Ittoâs fur also proves a challenge because he just canât sit still. The little guy has too much energy to keep contained, so he usually ends up looking disheveled.
đ Itto is also a giant glutton. Heâs capable of eating a weekâs worth of cat food in just 3-4 days, yet somehow doesnât gain weight. Itâs expensive to keep him fed. If you try to put him on a diet, he will be very vocal in his complaints and even steal food from your plate.
đ Heâs a troublemaker, but heâs incredibly loyal to you. If youâre feeling down, heâll get you to play with him to take your mind off your troubles. If that doesnât work, heâll become more affectionate and rub up against you to get you to pet him and relieve stress. He never abandons you if youâre not feeling your best.
Scaramouche:
âď¸ Is a domestic shorthaired tuxedo cat.
âď¸ Was very hostile and cold towards you when you first got him. He was averse to touch, and often hissed and glared at you for the first few months of your joint cohabitation. Over time, when he was sure you meant him no harm, Scaramouche relaxed in your presence and wasnât so hostile towards you anymore. He still glares daggers at any guests you may have over, but with you, heâs calmer and more affectionate.
âď¸ Scaramouche is a bit of a loner and tends to slink off on his own to whatever corner of the house he calls his own. When guests are over, he likes to sit in an elevated spot (top of the closet, fridge, or shelf) and observe everyone from above. He does this for two reasons: firstly to discourage people from touching him, and secondly to keep an eye on the people around you.
âď¸ If thereâs someone he doesnât like, Scaramouche will make it very apparent. That unfortunate guest of yours will get a warning growl to stay away from you. If the guest doesnât comply, Scaramouche could even go as far as scratching the person. Itâs not good behaviour on his part, but Scaramouche has his reasons. Youâve come to learn that heâs very good at picking out individuals who have bad intentions towards you or are just overall not good people.
âď¸ He's a bit of a grumpy cat. Heâll let out noises of discontent if you pick him up to cuddle him or groom him, but heâs just all bark and no bite (but only with you). As unhappy as heâll look, heâll tolerate whatever it is you want to do to him. Unless itâs dressing him in silly costumes. Then youâll get a harmless swat to your face (he makes sure to keep his claws retracted) and wonât see him for the rest of the day. Scaramouche wonât come out even when you call for him. No silly costumes, please.
âď¸ For all his grouchy attitude, he still loves you. He wakes you up on time if you sleep through your alarm, badgers you if you forget to take your meds, and purrs on your chest when you feel sad. Heâs very intelligent for a cat.
âď¸ Is very picky about food. He wonât eat just anything you give him. Unfortunately for you, the only cat food brand heâs willing to eat is very expensive. Heâs a very spoiled cat.
âď¸ Hates bathing. Scaramouche tolerates brushing and nail trimming, but God forbid you try to put him in the bath. He will meow angrily and try to run, so itâs always an ordeal to hold him still long enough to bathe him. Sends you a scathing look if you laugh at how skinny he looks once his fur is matted to his body, making him look several sizes smaller. If you laugh, heâll give you the cold shoulder afterward, so you wonât see him for a few days.
âď¸ Isnât into playing with cat toys, but he does hunt in his spare time. He brought you birds and mice a few times as a âgiftâ. He genuinely meant well, so was a bit irritated that you threw his gifts away. Â
Venti:
đ A munchkin cat.
đ Venti is a cat that cannot be tamed. He clearly understands your commands because he sometimes complies with them when he feels like it, but most of the time he prefers to do his own thing. This includes venturing out into the great outdoors. Venti is not content staying cooped up at home, and youâve long since learned to just let him go out when he wants. Heâll find a way to escape one way or the other. Besides, he still comes home, so itâs not like he doesnât like living with you.
đ Venti seems to have an appreciation for music. He becomes energized whenever you play music, no matter what genre the song may be. He becomes more playful, so you often find yourself sidetracked playing with the cat instead of doing your work. If you canât play with him, then Venti will zoom around the house like a cat on a sugar rush.
đ To your surprise, Venti also likes to sing. Or at least, you think the caterwauls heâs making are his attempts at singing along to some of the songs. Itâs an amusing, albeit weird, sight.
đ Is generally not a lap cat, but he makes exceptions if he senses that youâre feeling down. During such moments, he becomes more subdued and nuzzles into your side, allowing you to pet him. His gentle purring and soft body usually help you feel better. If not, then heâll stick to you like glue and follow you around the house to keep you company. It will be one of the few times when Venti sleeps next to you at night since he usually goes off on his own during that time. Itâs obvious that he worries about your well-being.
đ Out of all the foods you let Venti try, you never expected him to like apples as much as he did. You swear he likes them more than the expensive cat treats you bought him. You trained him to do all kinds of tricks and even sit still for grooming in exchange for a few slices of apple (given as a treat).
đ He likes sleeping outside under the shade of the canopy, accompanied by a gentle breeze. You often catch him sleeping high up in a tree or a nook somewhere in the grass.
Dainsleif:
đ A Norwegian Forest cat.
đ You got Dainsleif from a shelter. He has a chronic illness that requires you to take him to the vet regularly for treatment, and some kind of scarring on his right side. The right side of his face and flank has matted, thinning fur, and you can only guess what happened to him before he ended up at the shelter. He was a very pitiful sight, which is why you brought him home. Under your care, Dainsleif lives the best life he can given his afflictions, and youâre even proud to say that aside from his mangled right side, the rest of his coat looks gorgeous.
đ Dainsleif is a relatively quiet and well-tempered cat. Though heâs shy and skittish around strangers, with you, he is more open. In private, his sweet temperament comes out. He often grooms you with his tongue as an act of affection and relishes in your gentle caresses when you pet or groom him in return. Watching his eyes close as he relaxes is a nice feeling since he usually has his guard up.
đ Heâs not playful. Dainsleif is kind of serious for a cat. He dutifully waits for you at the door like a dog whenever you leave the house and greets you with a loud meow when you return. He doesnât play with the toys you got him and prefers to spend most of his time sitting by the window and staring outside with an expression you can only describe as wistful.
đ Likes to sample whatever food youâre having. Dainsleif eats his cat food just fine, but you notice that heâs often curious about what youâre eating. He canât help but want to sniff and taste human foods since the unique scents and flavors entice him. You share a little bit of your food with him after making sure itâs safe for cats, and Dainsleif couldnât be more grateful for your generosity. However, this led to him expecting you to share a bit of your food with him during every meal. Heâll look dejected if you donât.
đ When not weighed down by his illness, Dainsleif is very agile and has good stamina. Heâs well suited for traveling outdoors with you if itâs something you want to try and will stay by your side like a loyal guard dog the entire time.
đ Heâs very pliant with you. He tolerates bathing and grooming like a trooper despite not being fond of it since youâre the only one he trusts. If someone else attempted to groom him, then Dainsleif would simply run off and hide. However, he allows you to maneuver him in whatever way you need to complete the work well, and he doesnât even complain about it. He becomes the sweetest cat in your presence.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#kaveh x reader#alhaitham x reader#arataki itto x reader#itto x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#venti x reader#dainsleif x reader#genshin fluff
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Together and More
Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader
Summary: Daddy!Benny moments from the birth of his baby to a parenting anxiety episode to a few years down the line with a little toddler.
Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free* Unofficial Part 3 to Come Back Knockinâ and Come Back Together. I say âunofficialâ because itâs more like an epilogue-y time-jump thing and I might go back later and add more fics between the last part and this to bulk up the story (if people are interested. If not Iâll probably just move on to new Benny fics unrelated to this story). Fluffy family cuteness. Girl dad!Benny. Angsty-ish at brief points (if you squint, I suppose). Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Typos.
Words: 3400
Benny Cross Masterlist
When the nurse escorts him into the delivery room, Benny freezes. Wide blue orbs flick between you and the bundle in your arms, and despite the distance, you can see his hard swallow. You can practically feel his heart thumping, reverberating off the walls, and when his lips part, youâre unsure if itâs from awe or anxiety or a mix of the both.Â
When it comes to your husbandâs emotions over the birth of his child, it has varied by the day. Thereâs been a steadiness and consistency to his excitement, thankfully, but he has vacillated between trusting in his ability to be a father and questioning what good he can bring to a kidâs life. This last week in particular was the most chaotic for his ups and downs knowing your due date was around the corner.
âHi Daddy,â you say, hoping your smile will ease any brewing discomfort in his system. Benny doesnât move, but his gaze has officially decided to glue to the baby. For the moment, youâll take that as a win. Had you given birth eight months ago, youâre not sure he would have touched his child with a ten-foot pole, let alone looked at them. âWell, are you going to come see her or what?â
Benny snaps out of the shock gripping his body and he blinks. Swallows again. âItâs a girl?â he asks, a mild tremble in his voice.
With your nod, he takes a deep breath, and from the continuation of your encouraging smile, his limbs regain their functioning. Itâs a snails-pace twenty steps, but eventually, he makes it to your side.Â
Thereâs a twinge of guilt in your gut from feeling relieved while heâs tightly wound with tension, but you canât help it. Benny is unpredictable until the last second. As much as heâs been reliable during your final months of pregnancy, nipping at your mind was the possibility of a second disappearance. But he didnât run. Heâs here. He came to you. He came for her.Â
Bennyâs knuckles whiten around the railing of your bed as you pull your daughter away from your chest and tilt her forward so he can take in her sleeping face.Â
âHold her,â you say, raising your arms toward him. Bennyâs eyes widen. He backs up and you sigh, having expected that response. âBenny.â
âIâll drop her.â
âYea, because youâre so weak-muscled,â you tease with a playful roll of your eyes. You cradle your baby against your body so you have a free hand to reach out and grab him by the wrist, guiding him back to the edge of the bed.Â
âHold your arm out,â you instruct. A beat passes but he does as you say, allowing you to nestle her into the curl of his strong arm. âCup her head with your other hand. Like that. Good. See? Youâre perfect.â
Heâs holding her like sheâs some sort of rare, expensive bike part that took a year of his life to track down, but his shoulders slowly untighten as he starts to rock her back and forth like the natural you suspected he would be. When she opens her doe eyes to stare up at him, Bennyâs brow pinches and tears start falling down your cheeks because his eyes have turned glassy and youâve never before witnessed the sight. Itâs unlikely anyone has.
âSo?â you ask. âWhat do you think?â
Benny nods. âYou did so good, baby,â he says, glancing up at you with a grin. Heâs quick to return his gaze to his daughter. âYou made us a beauty.â
You sniffle. âYou contributed to that as well.â
âYea, but she looks like you.â
Itâs possible as she ages that sheâll develop a feature of yours here and there, but when you look at your daughter now, all you see is him. His nose, his eyes, his lips. Sheâs him, and youâd tell him so, but youâre not sure your words would break through the trance the baby has him in.Â
â
When you wake, heâs not beside you. The sun is long from rising, and yet thereâs no warmth, no lingering scent of his cologne, and when you flip over, the comforter remains smoothly spread out on his side.Â
You kick the covering off your legs and stand, snatching your silk robe off the closet's doorknob to slip over its matching nightie. You know where he is. Itâs where heâs spent many of his nights in the past three weeks.Â
In the corner of the nursery, perched in the quilted chair, Benny is hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers woven and clenched as he stares at the crib where your daughter lies fast asleep under the low glow of her nightlight.
âBennyâŚâ you start, making your way to him. His stare doesnât break from the baby as he leans back against the cushion and spreads his legs so you can take your place on his lap. An arm slides across your lower back, a palm plants on your bare thigh, and you cuddle into his chest.
âYou didnât come to bed,â you say.
Benny hums in acknowledgment.
âYouâve got to be at the shop in four hours.â To that, he doesnât even utter a sound.Â
Itâs not until you say, âAre you ready to tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?â that you get a response.Â
He exhales heavily, then says, âWhat if Iâm not good enough for her?âÂ
The question doesnât surprise you. You assumed it was something along those lines, simply from observing his behaviors since you came home from the hospital.Â
Bennyâs smile rivals the sun whenever he takes his daughter in his arms, but the longer he looks at her, the more he thinks, and the more he thinks, the further that smile falls. He cradles his baby and his mind runs away with him. He peers too far into the future, digging up every possible problem and road bump ahead. Problems and road bumpsâsome of which you have no doubt are outlandishâthat may never come to fruition.Â
Your fingers weave into the blond tips at the nape of his neck and you delicately scrape the base of his skull with your nails.Â
âThatâs crazy. Youâre amazing with her,â you tell him.
âSheâs only three weeks old,â Benny argues. âThereâs plenty of time to fuck it up.âÂ
âBenââ
Youâre cut off by the intensity with which his eyes drill into yours. A raw realness of concern swirls in blue irises. âWhat if she needs things that I can't afford to get her?â
Your brow raises. âLike what?â
âAnything,â he tells you. âWhat if she resents me for not havinâ better to offer? Her friendsâ pops will have better jobs than meâmore money in their pockets. We donât even have a car to take her places; weâve been borrowinâ Bettyâs, for fuckâs sake. And this neighborhood? Baby, this street isnât as safe as it used to be.â
You sigh. Heâs right. You hate to admit it because you hoped he was worried over sillier matters, but every bit of what he said is fair. Your daughter will have friends whose fathers have established careers and the salaries to match. There will be lawyers and doctors and financiers living in areas that, while vastly nicer, still feed into the same schools your child will attend. You will need a car, ideally within the next few months because Benny canât be riding to daycare with the baby clipped into the side satchel on the seat of his bike. And yes, the neighborhood has undeniably taken a turn in the past year. You should start planning your lives on a budget so you can get a small place outside the city.Â
But the difference between you and Benny is that you know all of this is attainable. You know the two of you can do this. You know youâre both good enough and smart enough and resourceful enough to raise your baby.Â
Benny removes his palm from your thigh and rubs his fingers across his forehead. You put your hands on his cheeks to turn his face back to yours.Â
âBenny Cross, you are not going to fuck up. Our daughter is not going to resent you,â you say with absolute certainty, adding extra force to your tone. âShe needs you and she needs me, and that's it. Everything else we will figure out in time.â
â
Three Years Later
You love to watch them. You love to watch how they exist together. You love how Benny tucks her into bed at night; how he wakes her extra early on Saturdays to make pancakesâone of the few meals he managed to master; how she stares up at him with a trembling bottom lip until he reluctantly agrees to play dollies with her; and how eager she is to take interest in anything and everything he has to show her.Â
In the beginning, it wiggled your nerves to see her so curious about bikesâwhat mother wants to imagine her daughter on the back of a motorcycleâbut she is her fatherâs daughter. Trying to shield her from her interests would only make her want to pursue them more, whether you agreed to it or not, so you took a step back and let it happen, knowing Benny would approach it appropriately.Â
Now, itâs another one of those moments between them that you love to watchâthis time watching without their knowledge as you peek through the sliver of space in the barely open door that connects the kitchen to the garage.Â
The garage door is up to permit some natural lighting, and Benny, ratchet in hand, sits on a section of concrete that is shaded from the prying heat of Summerâs sun. Heâs messing with the body of his bike as Lucy stands to his side; close, but not so close that she could be harmed should he accidentally lose his grip on a tool.Â
âOk,â he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He offers Lucy the ratchet and says, âWrench please.â
Lucy carefully takes the tool by the handleâjust as Benny taught herâbefore looking into the open box at her feet. Her head tilts as she examines its contents, and then she leans down, places the ratchet back where it belongs, and wraps her little fingers around the wrench. Pulling it out, she waves it back and forth with great enthusiasm before presenting it to her father.Â
Benny smiles and she places the tool in his open palm. âGood job, nugget,â he praises as he softly pinches her round cheek. She giggles.Â
Lucy takes in Bennyâs every movement, observing like a tiny apprentice would a master. Sheâs attentive and nods along with everything he says even though she has no idea what a lick of it means. She does so until Benny finishes the job and closes up the toolbox.Â
The second both of his hands are free, Lucy vaults herself into her fatherâs arms with such vigor that she nearly knocks him onto his back.
âFixed it?â she asks, placing her hands on his shoulders and hoisting herself up so sheâs at his eye level.Â
âFixed it,â Benny confirms with a nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
When you push the door open, their heads whip in your direction. Bennyâs face splits to reveal a row of white teeth, and Lucyâs eyesâthe same shade as Bennyâsâlight up, sparkling so stunningly that you almost donât want to let the next words out of your mouth.Â
âI hate to be the bearer of bad news,â you say, âbut itâs nap time Lady Lu.â
Lucy gasps and looks at Benny to verify that heâs just as shocked. To her great enjoyment, he plays the part.Â
âMommaâs got us on a schedule,â he tells her.
Her face scrunches in distaste. âYucky!â
âYucky?â Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead in mock offense. âSounds like Daddy is teaching you to rebel against authority,â you say, crossing your arms as you give your husband a pointed look, âwhich I would really prefer he hold off on for a few years.â
Bennyâs faux shock fades to a chuckle. âAlright,â he concedes, setting Lucy on her feet so he can stand. âMommaâs right, nugget.â
He winks at you and you grin as you reach toward him, grabbing his face to draw him in for a quick, thankful kiss. Just as heâs about to go in for a second peck, Lucy tugs on his hand to redirect his attention where she wants it: on her distress.Â
âButâBut you guys donât have nap time!â
âOh sure we do,â Benny says as he lifts her into his arms and settles her on his hip. âWe nap when you nap.â
She glances at you, and when you nod she mutters an unconfident âOh.âÂ
Not wanting to insult her feelings, you suck in your laugh. Your daughter despises the thought of missing out on any fun and has decided that it must be when she naps that her parents go wild. Little does she know that you take any opportunity to rest, and if Benny is home, so does he.Â
Itâs been a hardworking three years. Exhausting. Taxing to a degree that your bodies still havenât fully recovered. Benny spent the majority of his waking hours at the shop while Kathy and Betty offered to watch Lucy so you could get a job as an office assistant; painfully dull work, but not an opportunity you took for granted considering you had no training in the area before you were hired. You both worked as often as you could for as many hours as your employers would allow, so much so that Benny would hold you through the tears you shed worrying if it was subconsciously affecting Lucy. You didnât want her to know her parents for their absence, but at the end of the day, it was all for her, so you pressed on.Â
You and Benny found peace and relaxation in the simple thingsâlate-night rides; bonfires with the club; Saturday morning cartoons with Luâbut the rest of the time you were wearing yourselves out, and not always in the pleasurable way.Â
But it was worth it. Every headache from lack of sleep, every aching joint from your constant desk sitting and Bennyâs physical labor, every emotional outburst that the two of you would coax one another out ofâworth it.Â
Six months in, you got that car you needed. By a year, Benny had bought into the shop for fifty percent. And at the end of two years, you found a house just outside the cityâa modest three-bedroom with a yard and a garage.
âAre you sleepy now?â Lucy asks, her voice already beginning to lose the oomph of its energy.
You softly snicker. Your daughter always hits her marks. Like clockwork, about two minutes post-nap-time announcement, regardless of whether or not she fights you on it, her eyelids struggle to open after each blink and her words leave her mouth at a more sluggish pace.Â
âVery,â you nod again. âBut we certainly won't nap if you won't. We wouldnât want to miss out on any fun with you.â The tip of your index finger taps her tiny nose.Â
âN-No, I'll do it,â she says, âif you guys are tired too.â
âWe are, nugget,â Benny tells her. âSo let's get you to bed, sound good?â
Sheâs fading fast but she uses some of that remaining energy to give a little grin before laying her head on her fatherâs shoulder and releasing a yawn. âYea, Daddy.â
â
âWell, that took all of fifteen seconds,â you say as Benny gently closes Lucyâs bedroom door behind him.Â
You start heading for your room with your husband trailing after you, but then thereâs a tight grip on your waist and youâre spun to face in the opposite direction. Fumbling your steps, your chest bumps against Bennyâs before he bends down, wraps a thick arm around your thighs, and tosses you over his shoulder.Â
When you yelp, youâre punished with a swat on the ass. âHush, baby. You wake Lu and we donât get our nap, and after workinâ on the bike all morninâ, I could really use one.â
He carries you to your bedroom, sets you on the edge of the bed, and throws himself onto his back atop the mattress. Then, arms spread wide, smirk across his face, he says, âCâmere,â and you crawl into your usual space against his body. After a synced sigh, Benny crooks his knuckle under your chin and tips your head back so he can seal his lips to yours.Â
Youâll never tire of this. Of him. The feel of him around you. The taste of him. The scent of cologne and motor oil. The way he nips at your bottom lip to pull a muffled squeak from your throat and how he smiles into the kiss at his achievement. Itâs too damn good and nothing could match it.Â
Knowing how your future would have evolved if Benny hadnât returned after learning of your pregnancy is impossible. Maybe you would have found happiness if you had moved on and met another man, but you wholeheartedly believe that that man, whoever he might have been, wouldnât have had the capacity to be what you need. When Benny stepped into your world, he took the moldâyour ideal image of the love of your lifeâand stretched it out to fit him perfectly, and then he immediately broke it so no man could so much as attempt to take his place. And it worked. There was never going to be anyone else for you. At least, not anyone who could give you what you have now.Â
As Bennyâs fingertips graze over your cheek and bury into your hair, he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back. Lips press harder into yours and then they disappear. Your eyes snap open, a pout rapidly forming that he quickly kisses away.Â
âWanna talk to you about somethinâ,â Benny says lowly, whisper-like as his nose nudges yours. You do your best to straighten out your thoughts and pay attention, but itâs made difficult by the comforting weight of his body bleeding into yours and his thumb brushing back and forth along your cheekbone. âYou know, Johnny and Betty said theyâd watch Lu tonight if we want.â
With narrowing eyes, you reply âYes,â drawing out the word, wondering where heâs going with this and why it has to interrupt the kissing.
âIf you wanna take âem up on that, I was thinkinâ we could go for a ride, and thenââ he shrugs the shoulder not supporting his weight above you, âI donât know, maybe we come home and make another kid.â
Your eyes shift from mildly irritated slits to round saucers. âWhat?â
âYea,â he says. âThought it might be nice.âÂ
âSeriously?âÂ
âI mean, if youâre willinâ to birth another one, Iâd be happy to put one in you.â
A laugh bubbles from your chest. âWould you now?â
Benny nods, planting a kiss on your mouth. That kiss moves to your cheek, then his lips ghost along your jawline before landing on the sensitive spot just under your ear. âYou just gotta say yes, baby,â he says, warm breath heating your skin, âand nine months from tonight, we could have our second one.â
Your fingers glide through his hair, fisting the strands as you angle your head to give him better access to your neck. He licks and sucks until you moan, and then you say, âYouâre that confident you can get me pregnant on the first shot?â
Benny pulls his head back to look at you. âCourse I am. When I did it last time, I wasnât even tryinâ,â he says, cocky grin in place. But then his features soften. âSo? What do you think?â
Your lips quirk to the side and you hum. âAlright, Benny Cross,â you say. âLetâs make another baby.â
---
A/N: I keep writing scenes with mothers eavesdropping on father/child bonding moments đŤŁ
Taglist (if you wanna join)
#benny cross x reader#benny cross#the bikeriders#austin butler#benny cross x you#benny cross fanfiction#bikeriders
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About My AU
This is about how 8 souls in Minecraft afterlife,try to live in peace and harmony.
Random facts about world/lore:
⢠You canât stay at night for long as your own nightmares and fears will begin to haunt you.
⢠Catnap has had corruption three times. And each time it gets worse and more painful.
⢠on a full moon in Cartoon world, Catnap will turn into that same creepy version of himself from his past life.
⢠Bobby: mother/big sister figure
Bubba: Big bro/Father figure
Kickin: best Bro/best friend
Hoppy: best sister/best friend
Crafty: comfort shy bestie
Picky: the same kind aunt who will feed and take care of you/sibling figure
⢠Catnap lives with Bobby or Bubba.
The guys built houses for each other while they were in the afterlife. And they built a House for Dogday in advance.
⢠It hurts Catnap to show other emotions with his mouth, so he always smiles. But in the animation "Overnight" he was so upset that he didn't care about the pain and to show his sadness to Dogday he erased his smile
About Medallions
medallions are their souls.
Catnap collects the negative emotions of other critters. This makes his medallion increase. Although he helps others, itâs worse for him if he collects a lot of negativity within himself. He's in pain and reaaally Sick.đ
Each critter has their own cracks in their medallions. They show their emotional state.
Why is Catnap's medallion different?
itâs just that Catnap is punished for what he did in a past life. He pays back by helping and providing therapy to others there will be a rollback from negativity only if someone helps him. But no one will help him yet. The worse the Catnap medallion stage, the more his voice disappears, his beautiful lullaby voice becomes either mute or creepy.
The reason why Catnap is still cursed with this "therapy" ability. He feels guilty for all his mistakes. And it haunts him. His guilt hits harder than other negative emotions of smiling critters.
Sometimes a big red cloud hangs over him in the shape of his past life. And until he forgives himself and does not help others. He will be forever cursed and suffer
Cracked or Cursed Medallions symptoms
When Catnap is too overwhelmed with negativity. He coughs up Red Smoke.
But it doesnât affect the others in any way. Although other critters are scared by this smoke. Especially Dogday.
Broken medallions.
These are souls that have not found peace, traumatized, broken. They feel bad mentally.
About ARCS.
Arc 0. - Catnap's Therapy. Pilot lmao
Arc 1. - Eclipse, nightmares and dreams,"I'm sorry"
Arc 2.- Corruption,Hey Dogday,,the groundhog Day,comics about other Critters
Arc 3- (Red crescent arc) - Your face,Camping, Theatre, others in future
Arc 4.- After prank, overnight,Moon's everyday Life.
Arc 1- Everyone hates Catnap. They shun him. Beat him,kick him. Bobby was the first to befriend him.
Arc. 2.Catnap helps them cope with their traumas that have begun to appear and interfere with their lives.
Arc 3.They are all more or less well. Some notice Catnap's strange behavior. Dogday has a hard time accepting Catnap. He already wanted to more or less make the relationship better. But the Red Moon appeared.
Their voices ,Their speaking style
Dogday: The deep voice of a veteran who went through a 100-year war. But sometimes it changes to squeaky if it experiences strong emotions. He remained expressive, but his face is always angry as if it would bite you.
Catnap: Actually he was mute. But he was given a voice in the afterlife. He still can't get used to it. His voice is very gentle, cold and pleasant to the ear, like the Cradle. His voice is also designed for singing.
Bobby: Calming tone, tactile when communicating. Sometimes she makes beautiful speeches. And very chatty. Loves to gossip.
Bubba: Monotonous and calculating Voice. He speaks briefly and clearly. And doesn't gesture at all and he is very passive.
Kickin: He deliberately makes his voice tone rougher to seem cool. He comes up with different slangs and often makes funny gestures. But when he's scared, his voice becomes very squeaky and he chirps like a Chicken.
Hoppy: She has a loud and confident voice, like a fitness club trainer. She will never tire of shouting motivational words at you. She often jumps and runs around you. She doesn't sit still while she chats with you.
Crafty: A gentle and sweet voice, like a princess. She is often distracted and has Daydreaming Syndrome.
Loves fairy tales and everything that is not from reality. She can debate her point of view about creativity
Picky: She has a very fun and playful voice. But sometimes you donât understand whether sheâs happy or ready to roast you in a fire.
A truly charming farmer and chef. Loves the Western theme.
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Random thought that could could absolutely be nothing, an over-analyzation of sorts even, but I have always found it interesting that in the Devlin house episode Charles gets sucked into the loop starting from the point he snaps at Edwin about him "Not being the all-knowing expert on all things." It's especially interesting to me because after he does so, Edwin tells Charles that he's "...Not acting like himself at all."
In theory, Charles could have just reappeared when Mr. Devlin turns the corner or when he approaches Mr. Devlin here:
because if the point of repetition here is to show us that the abuse Charles suffered at the hands of his own father is what causes him to get trapped in the loop, either of those moments would have been sufficient in supporting that idea. The dialogue shared beforehand between him and Edwin has little to do with the point at hand...unless...
Charles feeling pain about his own father isn't the whole sum of why he gets trapped in the loop; his fear that he's just LIKE his father, that he's not a good person, that he's "Cruel for the shits," and capable of hurting the people he loves (and thus undeserving of their love) is also what traps him in the loop, and that's why his "loop" starts with him snapping at Edwin.
Even though we as viewers can empathize with and understand why Charles snaps at Edwin given the circumstances, it's very unlikely that Charles extends that same grace to himself. I would argue that we see the multi-faceted layers of his trauma explored in various ways from this moment on. Charles himself even later admits that all he feels is anger despite the fact that he wants to be "a good guy." Charles has yet to understand that it's possible to be good and feel anger, that anger in and of itself is not bad, and that feeling strong negative emotions like grief or anger does not make a person dangerous or abusive like his father was...nor does it guarantee that he would use his anger to harm others. So, with that in mind, of course Charles' loop would start with him lashing out at Edwin, as opposed to it just starting with him lashing out at Brandon Devlin; it's not just about feeling powerless to stop the abuse, it's about feeling like you play a role in it. It's about the deep-rooted fear that maybe you actually deserved the abuse you suffered because you are not good, and just by being related to an abuser you are damned to be just like them, or worse. Charles worries about who he truly is, deep down, and that maybe Edwin is wrong when he says that Charles isn't acting like himself: maybe the darkest parts that he works so hard to bury are actually who he truly is, and his ability to throw careless, harmful, biting words at someone he loves deeper than anyone else may be a reflection of this. After all, his father loved his mother, he loved Charles, and look what he did to them... how he hurt them beyond repair. What if he is the same?
OR: the trauma Charles deals with isn't only the violence his father enacted on him (shown through what Brandon Devlin does to his family), but it's also the violence he feels capable of enacting himself (shown through his ability to throw harsh words toward Edwin who Charles openly claims is the "most important person in the world" to him).
What furthered this idea even more for me (and added a bit of salt to the wound frankly) was Crystal and Edwin's reactions to Charles being pulled into the loop. Out of shock, confusion, and frustration Crystal immediately turns to Edwin for answers but for a moment he is just frantic and uncharacteristically frazzled, only able to say, "Charles was right, I don't know everything..." and OUCH, right? But it emphasizes that 1) what Charles said to Edwin was quite hurtful, 2) that it did have an (unintentional) impact on Edwin, and 3) that Charles himself very well might have realized it was hurtful as soon as it left his mouth thus, again, why it would make sense that his loop began there.
It takes a strong emotional reaction to be pulled into a loop; the possibly that this moment was written to work on two levels of Charles' inner turmoil is quite clever (and extremely heartbreaking).
Again, it could absolutely be nothing... but it's worth pondering!!
#Is this anything? Does this make sense? Idk! I've just been sitting on this for a while and needed to share my pain#dead boy detectives#dbda#the dead boy detectives#the dead boy detective agency#charles rowland#edwin payne#edwin paine#dbda analysis#payneland#painland#charles x edwin
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sorry for all the posts today, but this one is very important: alternian video game edits.
i actually have reasonings for all of their blood types, and a few classpects, so i'll dive into them here:
monika: i'm thinking that early in the game, during acts 1 and 2, she maybe masqueraded as a jadeblood or higher. only during act 3 does she reveal herself as a fuchsia to the protagonist.
gordon and alyx: gordon is probably a tealblood, or somewhere around there. fairly high, but not too high, i think. alyx is an olive, and eli is an indigo. azian was probably a gold. (or lime?) i did have to keep gordonâs orange HEV suit, though. surely you understand. okay, troll half life lore: i think on alternia, all the main characters in the half life franchise are like, olive or above. the rebels in follow freeman and the guards are all lowbloods, so that the player doesn't feel too bad about sacrificing them, or something like that. i think this would be something that would happen in an alternian video game, at least.
agent 47: 47 is actually a mutant, due to being manufactured in a lab. he's a weird ice-blue color. he's still got that piercing stare. i felt a little sad changing his iconic red tie, but i do have some thoughts on that as well. obviously, red in human culture tends to symbolize passion, among other things, and in this case, violence and aggression, because it's the color of blood. however, because trolls all have different blood colors, i think they might have different meanings attached to colors than humans typically do. i think that typically, the colors that would most commonly represent aggression in alternian culture would be blue (cobalt and indigo) and purple. now, i know that the sea dwellers exist, but since the vast majority of trolls are lowbloods, they would have a lot more contact with the land-dwelling highbloods, rather than the fish. so, 47âs tie is blue. (i also just think it looks cool matching his eyes)
chell: I made chell a bronzeblood. sheâs a test subject, but not one of the special ones (astronauts, olympians, etc). sheâs just another lab rat. (also, a lot of her outfit is orangeâŚ)
now for classpects! i only have two iâm sure of as of now:
gordon freeman is an heir of hope. this one is fairly obvious to me. a common belief is that heirs have the ability to become their aspect, in a way. in half life 2, gordon quickly becomes the main symbol of the resistance on earth. for the rebels, he himself IS hope.
agent 47 is a prince of life. again, itâs a common interpretation that princes are themselves void of their aspect, and they destroy that aspect in others. this is really literal, obviously, but as a hitman, 47 kills people. literally destroying life. as for his own lack of life in himself, itâs pretty simple as well. 47 is almost always described as entirely void of emotion and empathy. others often remark on his soulless stare, a lack of life behind his eyes. so, as a prince, he fulfills both criteria there.
holy hell, that was a lot of words. i didnât intend to talk this much. feel free to add your own thoughts; iâd like to hear what others think. these descriptions were a bit rushed, and i donât really consider myself to be very good at communicating my thoughts, so a lot of things may have been lost in translation. iâd be happy to try and elaborate on my reasonings for any of them.
(oh, also, please no alyx spoilers. i havenât played it yet!)
#ddlc monika#monika#gordon freeman#alyx vance#half life 2#hitman#agent 47#chell portal#chell#rambling#homestuck#iâm so sorry
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drunk tonight â ryomen sukuna.
"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion youâre experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;
WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;
WORD COUNT: 9.4k words
NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls đđđ anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all đŤśđŤśđŤś
masterlist
if you want to, tip! <3
âŹÎšââââââââââââââΚâŹ
YOU DONâT WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. Itâs a number you know all too well, one that youâve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.
A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukunaâs name flashes across the screen. Itâs a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, itâs just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.
Youâve blocked him on everythingâsocial media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number.Â
He was always good at thatâmemorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, itâs a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.
The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. Heâs drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.
You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. Thereâs nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. Itâs a toxic mix of emotions���regret, anger, longingâall wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it.Â
Heâll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. Heâll say things he doesnât mean, make promises he canât keep, and youâll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.
For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that wonât make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.
You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that wonât work either. Youâve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.
Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But thereâs a part of you thatâs still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he canât just let you go.
But you know better. Youâve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it wonât. It never is.
You canât even muster the energy to be angry. Itâs all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.
âSukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.â You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say thisâyou need to finally put it to rest. âThis hurts, all of it. Itâs a mess, and weâve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We canât go back.â
Thereâs a long pause. You wonder if heâll leave it at that, but another text pings through.
âI canât⌠I canât live with this without trying. PleaseâŚâ
You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but youâve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.
âSukuna, Iâm done. You need to be, too.â You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but itâs the first step towards finally moving on.
You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know heâs just too drunk tonight. He doesnât really want you backânot the way he thinks he does. Heâs just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.
A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesnât want you back. Heâs just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. Youâve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.
You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, youâre not really after me. Youâre just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this⌠us⌠itâs over. We ended things for a reason."
Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didnât want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I donât want that for either of us."
You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasnât fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. Itâs time to go home. Youâre just drunk tonight.â
You hit send, and the tears that youâve been holding back finally spill over. Youâve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything youâve lost and everything youâve chosen to leave behind.
You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesnât make it any easier. And even though youâre telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. Itâs time to let go, for real this time. Itâs time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.
Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldnât answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of youâmaybe out of concern, maybe out of habitâhits the green button.
âSukuna, donâtââ
âIâm on my way.â he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. âI need to see you. We need to talk.â
Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. âNo, Sukuna. Donât do this. Youâre not thinking straight.â
Thereâs a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if heâs fighting to keep his composure. âI have to see you.â he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. âPlease. IâŚ..I want to see you. I wannaâŚI wanna be with you.â
âSukuna, please.â you say, your voice trembling. âYouâre drunk, youâre not yourself. Turn around and go home. Youâre only going to make this harderâfor both of us.â
âI donât care.â he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation thatâs never been there before. âI canât keep living like this, pretending I donât need you. Iâll be there soon.â
Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. âSukuna, if you show up here, I wonât open the door. I mean it.â
Thereâs a harsh laugh on the other end. âYou will. You always do.â
His words hit you like a punch to the gut because theyâre true, or at least they were. You canât deny the history between you two, the countless times youâve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender.Â
How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldnât? Youâve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.
Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show upâvulnerable, raw, and desperateâand the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant.Â
He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, youâd believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.
But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowlyâa harsh word here, a lingering silence thereâbut soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.
But you canât do that anymore. You canât keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. Youâve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. Youâve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you canât let him tear it all down again.
This time, it has to be different. This time, you canât open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You canât let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve moreâmore than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isnât haunted by the ghosts of a past you canât change.
So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that youâve survived without him, that youâve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.
And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk awayâthis time for good. Because if you donât, youâll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You canât let him pull you back into the darkness. Youâve come too far, and itâs time to finally step into the light.
âNo, I wonât.â you say, forcing steel into your voice. âNot this time. If you care about me at all, youâll turn around and go home. Youâll stop this before it gets worse.â
He doesnât respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, heâll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. âIâm almost there. Just⌠wait for me.â
Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. âSukuna, if you come here, Iâll call the police. Iâm serious.â
Thereâs a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think heâs hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. âIâm sorry⌠Iâm sorry for everything. But I have to try.â
He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man heâs become.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You donât want to call the police, donât want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.
With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that heâll turn around, that heâll finally realize that what you had is gone, and itâs time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isnât overânot tonight, not until heâs standing at your door, and youâre forced to make the hardest decision of your life.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.
You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldnât let it consume you both any longer.
Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:
âIâm here.â
You freeze, your blood running cold. Heâs close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.
He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever heâs carrying. But you canât let that sway you. Youâve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.
Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You donât even need to look at the screen to know itâs him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.
With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that youâve heard too many times before:
âPlease, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I wonât make a scene.â
You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. Heâs close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.
It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, youâve done it beforeâopened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, thereâs a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it wonât just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength youâve managed to hold onto.
You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he wonât leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. Heâs stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when itâs somethingâor someoneâthatâs no longer his to claim.Â
But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. Itâs a line you canât cross, not this time. Because if you do, youâll be dragged right back into the storm youâve fought so hard to escape. Youâll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you canât tell where one ends and the other begins.
You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasnât already said? What could he promise that he hasnât already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force thatâs hard to resist.
But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress youâve made, all the nights youâve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. Youâll be right back where you startedâlost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.
Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being.Â
So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.
But you donât. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision youâve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, youâre choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.
You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground youâre standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. Youâve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.
With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons youâve decided to cut ties, the countless times youâve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you donât lose everything youâve worked so hard to achieve.
You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos youâve left behind. You listen for any soundsâfootsteps, a knockâbut the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. Itâs as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.
Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice youâve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongsâbehind you.
You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, thereâs silenceâno more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. Youâve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace youâve fought for.
As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukunaâs name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but youâve managed to hold firm. Youâve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.
You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears youâve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions youâve been holding inside. Theyâre a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but theyâre also a sign of your strengthâstrength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.
Youâve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that youâve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.
You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if youâre struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.
With a deep breath, you type:
âSukuna, I canât talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We canât have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.â
You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that heâll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Youâve made your boundaries clear, and now itâs up to him to honor them.
Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.
But then, a new message comes through. You donât even need to look to know that itâs from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:
âI just need to see you. Iâm sorry for everything, but I canât let this end like this. Please.â
You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing heâs losing you. But you also know that this isnât just about you and him anymore. Itâs about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when itâs incredibly hard.
You type back:
âNo, Sukuna. This is not the time. Iâve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I canât keep doing this. Please, just go home.â
You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. Youâre asking for something that feels almost impossibleâto respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But itâs necessary.Â
You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth youâve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future youâre working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and youâll find a way to heal.
Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, thereâs a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, youâve done all you can. Youâve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.
You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, youâve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.
âŹÎšââââââââââââââΚâŹ
IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, ITâS YOURS. Because in truth, it wasnât a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts.Â
You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity.Â
From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukunaâs orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.
At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.
But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukunaâs troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.
The highs were dizzyingâmoments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldnât control.
Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukunaâs need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.
Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.
You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.
From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.
At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.
You couldnât stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained youâve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.
"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."
You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
"You say that now, but it feels like weâre always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."
Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but itâs real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I canât imagine my life without you. Youâre everything to me."
You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. âI donât know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like weâre tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isnât what I thought it was.â
He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. âPlease, donât say that. We can work through this. I know Iâm not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.â
You shook your head, tears welling up. âItâs not just a few mistakes. Itâs the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but itâs getting harder every day. Weâre not just having moments of passion anymore; weâre living in a storm.â
Sukunaâs expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. âI donât want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.â
As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.
But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.
Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything â and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.
His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.
The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.
The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.
The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.
The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your loveâboth fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.
You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldnât ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.
With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.
"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."
His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.
Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.
"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.
His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion youâre experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that youâve been trying to keep in check.Â
In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and itâs clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.
"Even if you love meâŚ.." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We canât fix everything like this. Weâre hurting each other, Sukuna.â
He doesnât pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.
Sukunaâs grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur â as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way youâre handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?
But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because thatâs all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.
As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always beenâintense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.Â
You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situationârecognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.
Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didnât want.
The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.
"Youâre always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why canât you just stay and deal with things like an adult? Iâve seen the way you look at others. Do you think Iâm blind?"
You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "Itâs not about anyone else. Itâs about us. Youâre always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."
His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? Thatâs what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. Itâs like youâre trying to push me away, like youâre looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."
You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Itâs not about looking for excuses. Iâm not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like Iâm under constant surveillance. This isnât about him. Itâs about the way youâre smothering me."
Sukunaâs frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? Iâm just trying to hold onto what we have. If youâd stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like youâre slipping further away."
"Youâre not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "Youâre suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like Iâm being watched and judged every second."
Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I donât want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like youâre constantly pushing me away. I just donât know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like Iâm losing you."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.
"I donât want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, weâre just going to keep hurting each other."
Sukunaâs gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I donât know how to change things if you wonât let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like weâre constantly fighting against each other."
You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasnât flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You canât keep trying to control me like this. We canât keep doing this.â
He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think youâre so perfect, donât you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. Iâm the one whoâs always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"
His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isnât about repaying you. Itâs about being true to myself. Iâm tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. Iâm not your possession."
Sukunaâs face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while Iâm left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? Iâm trying to hold onto something real, and youâre pushing me away."
The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.
"Iâm not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "Iâm trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like Iâm suffocating under your expectations. Weâre stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and itâs tearing us apart."
Sukunaâs expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just donât want to lose you. I know Iâm not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."
You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, weâre just going to keep hurting each other."
The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.
You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.
Sukunaâs posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. âWhat do you want me to do?â he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. âWhat can I do, toâŚto make you stay?â
The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.
âI donât know,â you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. âIâm tired, Sukuna. Iâm tired⌠of loving you and losing you all at once.â
His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.
The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.
Sukunaâs voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. âI donât know how to fix this. I donât know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.â
You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. âNeither do I.â you admitted softly. âI wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like weâre stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.â
Sukunaâs silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.
In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isnât enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.
Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.
âI never meant to make things so difficult,â he said, his voice rough with emotion. âI thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much Iâve pushed you away.â
You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.
âI know you were trying,â you said, your voice cracking. âBut the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.â
Sukunaâs hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. âWhat do you need from me?â he asked, his voice desperate. âTell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.â
You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. âI donât know if thereâs anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.â
His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. âIâm sorry,â he said, his voice breaking. âIâm sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didnât know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.â
You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. âI know. And Iâm sorry too. Iâm sorry that we couldnât find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.â
The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.
Sukunaâs hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. âMaybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.â
You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. âMaybe youâre right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.â
Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. âI hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.â
With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.
âŹÎšââââââââââââââΚâŹ
YOU COULDNâT DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.
As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldnât settle for less. You shouldnât settle for hurt.
Outside, you could see himâstill there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.
âI canât go through this again.â you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. âNot again.â
As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasnât mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.
You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:
"Sukuna, this is the last time Iâm reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but weâve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I canât keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I canât be with you anymore. Goodbye."
You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.
As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.
With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you.Â
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna#sukuna jjk#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryoumen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#jjk sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryoumen sukuna#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#kayu writes ! ! !
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If we take a break for a moment from the funny meme or self-aware kink indulgence understanding of the 'bimbo', and instead examine it as a sort of sexist fantasy - that is, literally a fantasy of ideal womanhood as imagined by a sexist - then we can come to understand that the 'himbo' is not the masculine counterpart. There is discourse to mine out of the idea that the himbo represents a sexist fantasy of ideal manhood, but I think that the himbo actually represents a sort of halfway step between the bimbo and her true counterpart.
The bimbo embodies sexist 'ideals' of womanhood, taken to an extreme and bent to the desires of the sexist (presumed straight, male) imagination. She is:
1) physically attractive in sexual terms, to an extreme - both a pleasure to possess and a status symbol to display to others
2) always horny (thus, always sexually available)
3) unintelligent in the traditional sense - not good at organization, STEM fields, academic learning, etc. this keeps her...
4) nonthreatening - she won't outshine a man in any domain of (the sexist ideas of) male competence, and
5) dependent - in need of a big strong smart man to provide for her, reassuring said man's sense of self-worth
All of these line up with traditional sexist ideas of womanhood - where the bimbo has flaws, they're not feminine flaws, and she still possesses feminine strengths (according to the sexist mindset).
So, the male counterpart of the bimbo should embody sexist ideals of manhood, taken to an extreme and bent to the desires of the sexist imagination. If we compare to the bimbo's features listed above, then:
1) physical attractiveness is desirable for men but not a key feature - a man can be manly while being ugly in a way a woman cannot be womanly if she is ugly.
2) horniness is not seen as desirable for men - it is expected and excused by sexists, but it's considered threatening to those who are its targets and a lot of sexism towards men is based in this assumed threat.
3) traditional intelligence is considered manly, but emotional intelligence isn't - in fact, it's seen as unmanly.
4) being threatening is harder to extract from manliness, as is...
5) being dependent, but it is possible, even required - men are just expected to be non-threatening and dependent in a different way.
Remembering that we're looking for a sexist ideal rather than a sexual ideal, we need to identify how sexism towards men works. Men are not sexually objectified under traditional sexism, but they are still objectified. This objectification is based on utility - an objectified man is reduced to a tool. He is wanted for what he can do and how well he does it, not in himself. His personhood is reduced to what makes him useful and controllable, and when he is not being of use he is unseen. He does not feel pain, he does not feel emotions that make him less of a perfect undemanding worker or soldier, he is permitted to suffer or rage or weep only for the things he serves and never for himself.
The male counterpart of a bimbo would be:
1) physically obviously useful - big and strong and tough, to an extreme, convenient for whoever he serves and an implicit threat to their enemies
2) seldom horny (thus never sexually threatening)
3) emotionally unintelligent - lacking the ability to understand or express the feelings of others or even his own (if he even has them) - in order to help make him:
4) unthreatening, in the sense of being easily controllable and socially inferior, and
5) dependent - in need of an inspiring leader, abstract ideals or a sole source of comfort to fulfill his emotional needs, further securing his loyalty and obedience.
I put it to you, then:
Space Marines are the male counterpart of bimbos, and becoming one is bimbofication.
#wh40k#space marines#warhammer 40k#40k#space marine 2#sexism#bimbofied#i'm not sure if this is shitposting or not
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