#like they would see that it was a serious moment and then leave | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zorosangell · 2 days ago

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⛥ﾟ・。 piña colada

synopsis: some women just can't take a hint... good thing Zoro's only got eyes for one girl.

cw: nsfw (oral: female receiving), this woman is really shameless, surprisingly tender Zoro, you two are so in love, kinda magical ngl, etc.

"Hey, there," a woman—who was in the tiniest bikini known to man—hummed, tone low as she approached the lounge chair. "I don't think I've seen you on this island before."

'For fuck's sake...'

Annoyed, Zoro let a heavy sigh out from his nose, not even bothering to glance in the girl's direction as his sunglasses shaded his harsh side eye.

You'd think after seeing eight other women walk dejectedly away from his umbrella, the others would catch the hint?

"Not interested," he stated, curtly, hands firmly tucked behind his head as he looked out to sea.

The woman chuckled, softly, completely ignoring his comment and taking a seat in the sand.

She sat criss-crossed, dropping her hands in her lap and using her arms to slightly push her tits together, attempting to endearingly lean closer to your swordsman.

"Don't be so hasty," she sweetly smiled, taking his rudeness in stride. "Haven't even given me the chance to speak."

"Well, that's 'cause I really don't give a shit what you say otherwise," he sighed, shutting his eyes.

"I can name ten other men off the top of my head that would beg to differ," she countered, slyly.

"I'm not other men."

"You certainly aren't..."

'Walked right into that one.'

His brows flattened, and for a moment he wondered if this was a real person talking, slightly glancing around to see if he could find a camera crew of some sort.

Yet, to his surprise, there was none.

"I have a girlfriend," he dealt the finishing blow, delivering the final line that scared away all the other women from before.

He could finally get some peace and quiet.

"I don't see her here," the woman shrugged, simply, as if what he just said made no difference to her.

Zoro threw his head back with an irritated groan, wanting nothing more than to drop kick the woman away and go back to napping.

This was all Luffy and Usopp's fault.

The crew had been docked on a tropical summer island for a few days, and for all of them, you and Zoro had gone down to the beach together and lounged in the sun—tanning, napping, eating, and drinking in rotation.

But on that particular day, the boys had whisked you away to go explore some cove they found on the beach's edge, leaving your swordsman to fend off the wolves by himself.

And at first, it wasn't that bad.

The girls that approached were polite and had pure intentions, and actually respected his wishes when he said he was uninterested.

But numbers four through eight?

Hell, the woman sitting next to him?

Less so.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he asked, brows furrowed as he sat up, not appreciating her comment at all. "I already told you, I'm not interested. So get lost."

"Oh, c'mon," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "There's no way you actually have a girlfriend. No girl in her right mind would leave her man alone on a beach like this, especially if he was as handsome as you."

"Maybe that's why she's my girlfriend and you're not," he scoffed, sarcastically.

Her brow twitched, the remark clearly striking a nerve as her posture suddenly straightened, her sickeningly sweet tone turning sour in a second.

"Well then, maybe your girlfriend can step up and we can see who's really the shit," she spat, standing from her spot in the sand. "Since she's so fuckin' great, let's see how she fares in a fight."

A smirk rose to the woman's lips, her hand coming to rest cockily on her hip.

"I might not look it, but I'm this island's martial arts champion... And I've yet to lose a fight. So let's see how she does with her face in the sand."

Zoro paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up his sunglasses and taking a breath to see if the woman was serious.

She was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

The man threw his head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the woman to jolt with surprise, and slight fear.

She'd never seen his expressions range anything past annoyance, so seeing him so amused seemed almost uncanny, especially since he was nearly howling with hilarity.

But he couldn't help himself.

You, the woman with a bounty over one billion?

You, the woman with the devil fruit of the personified spirit of death?

You, the woman who has fought literal monsters with her bare hands?

Lose to a random martial arts lady on a peaceful summer island?

It was almost too much.

The woman's brows furrowed, face warming at the mockery.

"The hell's so funny?!" she huffed with a childish pout.

Attempting to regain his composure, he wiped a tear from his eye, slightly clutching his stomach as his laughs died down.

"She'd fuckin' kill you," he chuckled, shoulders bobbing. "Like actually."

Furious, the woman broke into a long-winded tirade about why she would win... or how badly you would lose... or something along those lines.

If he was being honest, he zoned out the moment she started talking, something more interesting seeming to catch his eye.

You.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

After days in the sun, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the sunscreen you had him apply earlier giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eyes scanning over your body, he took in the light (f/c) of your bikini, which had a few complimentary, (o/c) flowers decorating its corners, along with the waist beads resting lazily over your stomach, not to mention the gold anklets and bracelets that littered your ankles and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—a thought he didn't mind indulging in later.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" the woman continued pestering him, her hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

Huge mistake.

Faster than she could even see, Zoro grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off and staring her down with a deadly glare, his patience long since run thin.

The woman froze, fear slowly creeping into her chest at the sharpness of his eyes.

He looked like he had half the mind to slit her throat right there.

"I'm only gonna tell you this one last time..." he warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Get. Lost."

Roughly, he let go of her, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, scurrying back over to the safety of her friend's towel just as you arrived.

"Hey, Zo'!" you chirped, taking a seat on your swordsman's lap as you took a sip of your cocktail, which was in a cut-off coconut.

"Hey, pretty," he greeted with a smirk, placing a kiss on your neck. "Whatchu got there?"

"Some kinda coconut-rum drink," you answered, plucking the pineapple off the rim and taking a bite out of it. "The guy at the bar called it a Piña Colada."

Zoro nodded, "S'it any good?"

"Might be a bit too sweet for you," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But try it."

Leaning forward, he sipped a bit from the straw, his nose scrunching slightly.

It was incredibly sweet.

"Yeah, I figured as much," you giggled, amused by his expression as you took it back. "By the way, who was that girl that went running away from here? She looked scared."

Slightly, you leaned over to glance at her, who was sitting not too far away, and raised a brow as she quickly turned around, terrified by your gaze.

'The hell?'

"Was she in trouble or somethin'?"

Zoro chuckled, knowingly, his hand sliding up your side to give your hip a lackadaisical squeeze.

"Nah," he shook his head, finally leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the chair. "Just needed help takin' a hint."

"So... I miss anything while you were on your trip with Luffy?" Zoro asked with a smile, slowly gliding his oar through the sparkling ocean.

You lit up with excitement, suddenly reminded of the events of the day.

"I wish I dragged you along! You woulda loved it," you sighed, leaning back in your spot in the canoe. "Turns out this island isn't as peaceful as we thought. When we went to the edge of the beach, we found tons of monster-sized crabs and lobsters, all of them strong as hell."

You smirked, holding up your fist.

"Me an' Luffy made a game over who could beat the most, while Usopp kept count. And we ended up in a draw."

'Damn.'

That blew his day fighting off women right out the water.

He should've gone with you.

"What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was away?" you asked.

"Eh," he shrugged, moving his oar to the other side. "Nothin' worth mentioning. My day was honestly pretty boring."

But he was hoping to change that.

While you were gone, he found Nami and Robin on the beach, and managed to weave through theirs sea of admirers in order to ask some advice.

Things had been going really great between the two of you, and since you were always so good with surprising him with gifts and gestures, he wanted to try his hand at it.

Of course, he had no idea where to begin.

And while Nami was little to no help, spending most of the time talking his ear off about how brutish and hopeless he was, Robin recommended taking you out to the nearby cove for a romantic night.

So, after scrounging up his island allowance and buying some booze and a canoe, he swept you away, all of the day's tribulations fading to the back of his mind as he watched you sit down in his lap.

"Y'know, this is really sweet of you, Zoro," you smiled, your fingers carefully tracing the scar across his chest. "Makin' me feel all special..."

He nodded, eyes raking over your face with an almost analytical look.

God, you were so fuckin' pretty.

It was almost baffling.

If he wasn't in this canoe—

"Figured you deserved something nice," he cleared his throat, warding off the less than decent thoughts creeping into his head.

He couldn't keep the romance up if he was too busy thinking about jumping your bones.

But little did he know... you were thinking the same thing.

Shifting your position, you rested your knees on either side of him, smoothly moving to bury your face in his neck, placing firm, meaningful kisses on his flesh.

Instinctively, the man leaned into your touch, one of his hands coming up to steady you at the small of your back, while the other continued to paddle.

Gliding your manicured hands up his body, you rested them on his strong shoulders, using them for purchase as you continued to nip at him.

His chest rumbled with a deep hum at the feeling, relishing in the way your lips felt against his pulse point, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Yet, just as it was getting good, you pulled away with a soft pop, moving to obscure his view of the water.

"I'm blockin' you. You can't see. What're we gonna do?" you grinned, cheekily, continuing to move in front of him as he tried to peer around you. "Oh, my Gods, we're gonna crash."

He looked up at you with a small smirk and a raised brow, amused, as you continued your antics.

"Oh, no. What's gonna happen?"

Suddenly, his hand roughly pulled you into his side, a soft squeal leaving your lips as he chuckled, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and continue your kissing assault while his two hands returned to the oar.

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you peppered lazy kisses on his skin, your hand coming up to card through the hairs at the base of his neck.

Tenderly, Zoro placed a few kisses of his own on your shoulder, his eye perking at the sight of your destination.

Robin had given him impossibly thorough instructions on how to get there, which is the only reason why you two hadn't miraculously made it to the next island.

"Hey..." he lightly nudged you as the boat approached the shore. "We're here."

Lifting your head, you carefully flew out his lap, touching down on the dry sand as he hopped into the shallow water, walking around to the back and pushing the canoe onto the shore.

"Oh, wow," you gasped, in awe at the beauty laid before you. "This is beautiful! Look at the view"

The moon hovered over the water, making the waves crystallize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky.

The sea breeze wafted your hair and cooled the sweat on your body from the heat of the day.

It felt good to get away from people, the serenity too nice to put off.

Suddenly, Zoro scooped you up, you in one arm and the case of booze in the other as he began walking toward the cove.

"It gets better," he smirked, leading you over to where the tall rocks flattened out and arched upward, turning themselves into a natural cabana.

Placing you down, he quickly gathered some sticks from nearby, before bringing them back and starting a fire.

And as he did so, you couldn't help but marvel at his body, thick, corded muscle flexing and extending under his skin at each minute movement, looking delicious enough to bite.

And that wasn't the blood-sucker in you talking.

You sighed in contentment as you tipped your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above

Finishing up, Zoro plopped down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a proud smile.

"Nice, right?" he chuckled.

You lazily nodded, wanting to stay there forever—among the water, stars, and him.

You peered up at him through your lashes, hesitant to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in them. And you let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head met the crook of his shoulder.

You embraced him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest.

There, you two stayed, holding each other, linked together like magnets.

"You smell nice," he murmured into your skin, taking a deep inhale of you. "Like coconut."

You smiled, shyly, warmth rising to your cheeks at the compliment.

And after a few silent seconds, he pulled away from you, his eyes dark as the night sky.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he stated, curtly, his gaze alight with enamor.

You didn't get to say a reply, too preoccupied with the lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, your lips moving against each other's like you both were starving for one another.

And you were.

You could tell Zoro wanted the same thing you did when his hands moved below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

He replied with his own grunt and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"I wanna see you," he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

There was a molten tenderness in his gaze that had you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he had in store for you.

So you stripped.

Catching the hint, your hands glided up your back, pulling the string of your bikini top and letting your breasts fall out of the cups, along with the strings to your bottoms.

Zoro's eyes raked over the sight of you as if you were a piece of art he was admiring in a museum.

"Shit," he softly hissed to himself, amazed at the sight of your brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimpered at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts, causing him to move on to other matters.

He leaned in and latched his lips onto one of your nipples, where he began to suckle on.

You threw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fell from your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when Zoro began to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switched, giving your other breast the same treatment.

Your hands found his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the green strands.

You were ruining its somewhat even style, but he didn't seem to care.

He was more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice choked on a broken moan.

You couldn't take it.

All of this was going straight to your core, which was now throbbing and begging for attention between your thighs.

"Please, Zo'..." you whined, gripping his hair. "I need you to touch me."

With a cocky smile, the man nodded, slowly leaning forward to lay you down in the sand.

Your eyes flitted up to the torch lit beach across the water, realizing any eagle-eyed person could come out and see you naked.

"Wait... what if someone sees us?" you asked, uncharacteristically timid.

A devious smirk rose to his lips, and he pressed a reassuring kiss on your lips.

"Let 'em... They'll be in for a show."

Gently, he pried your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet core.

You watched his face change from playful to downright feral as he stared at your cunt.

You flushed at his expression.

'Gods, give me strength...'

"Zoro, I'm serious—"

He shushed you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs.

"No more talkin', pretty," he growled against them. "All I wanna hear is my name on your lips."

He continued to pepper you thighs in kisses while his hands pinned your legs apart, his hold on you firm.

He didn't want you hiding from him.

And it felt good.

You didn't stop him when he dove right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he was making out with them.

It had been so long since the two of you'd gotten intimate like this, you nearly forgot the way the man worked his mouth.

Especially when he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

His tongue swirled around it and flicked it gently based on your responses.

And shit, you were responding well.

Your body couldn't help but react pleasantly to the sensations—your toes curling; your back arching; your eyes fluttering shut; your mouth falling open into an O as moans and gasps fell from your lips.

Zoro was not only good with his tongue, but good with his hands.

He reached up and played with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues.

"H-Harder, please!" you begged, to which he pinched the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the burst of pain making you gush all over his lips.

"Fuck, Zo'," you moaned. "That feels so good..."

Zoro hummed approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably.

"Keep feelin' good for me, pretty," he said between the wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. "Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head f'me."

Before you could even say anything, he was already tugging you closer by your ankle, earning a squeal from you.

He stood on his knees for a moment, taking you in.

His lust-blown eyes trailed up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you.

Then he inhaled deeply, as if struggling to process the sight in front of him.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he huskily said.

You had no idea what to say to that.

All you could do was shyly smile up at him as he stared down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he was ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head.

This gave him better access to your pussy so he could easily tongue-fuck you.

As soon as you felt the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit you were in heaven.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your hands found his hair, gripping the blonde strands as your hips began to grind shamelessly into his face.

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed approvingly, keeping up the pace.

He didn't pause or slow down.

He continued to work your pussy just how you wanted, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It didn't take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you.

You couldn't help it.

His tongue just felt too good.

Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risque position turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

Zoro must've realized you were close because his jaw started to move fast, accompanying his tongue-fucking with porn-worthy grunts of his own that nearly threw you over the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro!" you whined. "M'gonna come!"

Eagerly, he hummed into your pussy, pulling his tongue out of your hole and proceeding to suck on your clit while his finger began to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides.

But it was enough to push you further and further down that road to releasing all over him.

His darkened eyes flicked up to yours, staring you down between your thighs.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Come for me, baby. Don't fuckin' hold back."

He grinned up at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

He attached his mouth to your pussy again, and ran it until you couldn't help but fall over the edge.

"Come for me," he groaned into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reached higher pitches. "Come for me. Come for me. Come for me."

And you finally did.

That tight knot in your core finally snapped and a wave of euphoria washed over you as you came all over Zoro's face and eager lips with a loud moan.

You saw the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushed, your body shivering and shuddering.

Your back arched and your hips widened into Zoro's face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally faded, you were left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so good.

Zoro lazily cleaned you up, taking care to not overstimulate you as he ran his tongue over your sensitive, twitching core.

Then he lifted his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices.

With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hummed to himself.

"You taste better than the rum."

#zorosangell #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #roronoa x reader #roronoa #op #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece

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rebelssvy · 3 days ago

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drunk and needy

astumu x reader

LABELS: tipsy ego atsumu. sex. smut. he’s a flirt in this. *consensual sex duhhhhh

-my ushi fic is blowing up rn so go check it out!!!

stumbling through your shared apartment you found your roommate and his friend aran. you didn’t know either of them well at all. you had only been sharing an apartment with the setter for about two months now.

he was the type of guy that was intimidating. someone you chose to watch from a distance.

“s-so sorry about him. i can put him to bed. we just went out for drinks…” aran voiced as he helped his friend through your shared door way.

the professional volleyball player never seemed one to put away a drink. at least not in this manner. his eyes were litted low, and his cheeks glowed of rose colored blush.

he was conscious, more tipsy then drunk if anything.

“it’s ok, you’ve done enough. i can help out and get him to his room. get home safe.” you motioned patting a friendly hand on arans chest. before taking atsumu’s hand in yours.

“oh- ok! have a good night.” aran said while dismissing himself.

you and atsumu weren’t ever really that close. knowing surface level facts about him. and sharing your daily conversations. but you never really knew him.

“fuckkkkk…” he groaned out following behind you. hand still in yours.

you turned around to the man, seeing if there was a problem.

your eyes were met with a gaze you had never seen before.

you continued on to his room finally forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

you turned around to leave, but something stopped you. he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist.

“y/nn… your so hot- fuck.” he said out of the blue. your heart stopped. did he really think that?

“you don’t even know it but you turn me on so bad. even just looking at your ass when you dragged me here. fuck- it gave me a boner.” he stated looking up at you. hands firm on your body.

“atsumu, you don’t mean that your just drunk.” you say in a serious tone.

“oh but i do mean it. and im not drunk. i just had some shots awhile ago. i pissed it out of my system.” he said in a vulgar tone.

what was his deal?

………..

but there he had you. doggy style. ass up as he pounded you from behind. your roommate that you had led to his room moments ago now had his cock in your gummy walls.

“fuck i knew you wanted this cock. your so fucking obvious with the way you look at me. you always wanted me to fuck you isn’t that right?” he said through pounds.

you really shouldn’t be doing this.

“nn..just shut up-“ you moaned out. you didn’t have anything to say. embarrassing enough as it is he had control of you right now.

“cmon y/n you know you like it” he said.

he was so dramatic.

you cletched at his words regardless. because you really did like it.

“ohh.. fuck- i felt that. you do like it huh baby..?” saying with a hard slap to your ass.

you grabbed at your sheets whatever you could claw at.

“mmm- yea. you like all of me don’t you. i notice the way you stare at me.” he pushed your back down making your arch more significant.

you could feel his cock everywhere.

the sensation was tooooo overwhelming.

“atsumu…” you moaned out.

“i know your almost there… cum on my cock baby girl. cmon.” he said plunging his length in and out of you.

“your such a pretty girl. you know it too. we would make su- ch a cute couple.” he groaned out.

your drool was starting to collect on the sheets.

you felt the coil in your core. you were really close. it was all. too. much.

his pace sped up, and his cock his deeper then before.

“mmm- yea cmon baby. cum on my cock.” he groaned giving your ass another slap.

before you knew it your body pulsed around his length. squeezing him, aching for him to stay inside you.

“f-fuck.” he moaned out. your gummy walls clenched around him.

you blabbered out randoms about how he was so hot and so so good.

his ego was on a next level high.

he stayed in you barley pulling out in time. cumming on your ass.

he stared at your fucked out expression.

“cmon doll dontcha’ think we would be a cute couple.” he said in a playful tone as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

……………………………………………………………………………….

- this could be so much better idk. help me.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu manga #haikyuu smau #manga #anime #haikyu smut #smut #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu smut

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planetpedri · 16 hours ago

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Not a lot, just forever — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: For Pedri’s 22nd birthday, you wanted to do something special—definitely not an excuse to wear a new dress.

Word count: 700+

Disclaimer/s: flufffffff

A/N: Happy birthday to my only bf ever ^_^ I had such a shit day but Enya’s pedri edits are keeping me alive so shoutout Enny <3

A frown grew on your face as you knocked on the closet door in Pedri’s bedroom. “Babe, can I come in yet? What is taking you so long!” You groan, letting your head drop to rest against the door.

“Give me second, I can’t get this bowtie right.” He grumbles from the other side.

You’d forced him to dress fancy, or at least nice. You had a whole night planned for the two of you, starting with a a dinner at a restaurant that was nearly impossible to get a reservation for. You’d pulled many strings to get one on his birthday, and you were not about to be late.

Plus, you had just bought a baby blue silk dress that looked gorgeous on you—by the way. You knew Pedri would love it, considering it was his favorite color—blue that is.

“Pedro, open the damn door. I will help you.”

A few moments pass before the door opens. Pedri’s eyes immediately drop to your face, then your dress, his mouth falling open slightly. He takes a step back, hand gripping the door as he takes you in.

“Cariño…” He groans, “you look..”

A prideful grin adorns your glossy lips. “You like?”

Pedri could scoff. Like? Shit, he was in love—woah. Woah. He hadn’t spoken those words yet. Swallowing hard, Pedri’s head shakes with light laughter. “I love it.” He says simply, his eyes shining with affection.

“Good, I bought it just for you.” A low hum leaves your lips as you reach your hands up to his neck, taking the bowtie in your hands.

While tying it carefully, you avoid Pedri’s hard stare. His eyes flicker across your face with the faintest smile, memorizing your concentrated face. “We should skip dinner, just stay in.”

You laugh, stopping when you look up to see his serious face. “Yeah—no. It took months just to reserve this spot. We are going.” Finishing up, you let your hands drop flat onto his chest. “Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

Frowning, Pedri gives in. “Fine, only because you’re going above and beyond for a birthday, of all things.” His head dips down, eager and ready for a kiss, but your finger stops him.

Feeling his lips turn into a frown, you giggle. “Lip gloss.”

“Don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” You quip, “it can wait, no?”

“It’s my birthday. I want a kiss.” Pedri argues exasperatedly. His hand wrapping around your wrist to pull it away.

Your jaw drops, “this is manipulation!?”

“Don’t.” He smirks, “care.”

Rolling your eyes, you suck your teeth. “Fine. One.”

Still holding your wrist, Pedri leans down to greet your lips in one, long kiss. When he pulls away, you stifle a laugh. Your boyfriend’s lips are shining, glossy, and pulled into a shit-eating grin.

“How do I look?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You wriggle your wrist from his grasp, using your thumb to wipe the gloss off. “Like you just tried to eat my face off.”

“Maybe I am.”

Your head cocks to the side, giving him a look. “Funny. Now! Lets go!” Reaching for a stray towel, you wipe your thumb off before reaching for his hand again.

Pedri doesn’t budge, his eyes trailing your face and his eyebrows pinch together. Glancing back at him with concern, your brain starts to overthink.

“Hey, if you don’t want to go—“

“No, it’s not that.” He shakes his head adamantly. “It’s just..” He says your name tenderly, with so much underlying emotion you couldn’t even begin to think about what it meant. “I love you.”

Every ounce of worry leaves your body, your shoulders relax and a soft smile overtakes your face. “I love you, too.”

Pedri lets out a long, shaky breath. “Good, good. We can go now, I just.. I had to tell you.” He squeezes your hand, letting you take the lead out of his bedroom.

He’d wanted to say it in a more romantic setting, but seeing you in this dress, in this light, your quick whit, he couldn’t wait. And you were very pleased with it, it was small and simple, exactly how you’d wanted it to be.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

#pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x y/n #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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mullermilkshake · 11 hours ago

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A lasting impression - Part three

Part one, Part two, Part three, part four (Coming soon)

Wife! Reader x Yakuza!Sukuna MINORS DNI 🔞 - Tags: NSFW, Wife! reader, Yakuza AU, established relationship, mentions of blood, gore, violence, kissing, heavy petting, smut to come.

"Sir," Uraume waited by the door of the car and opened it for Sukuna's exit.

"Where is she?" he slipped out of the car and moved with purpose towards the double doors of headquarters.

"Your wife is waiting for you in her study. I applied the necessary first aid and after care myself."

"Good. that'll be all for tonight, Uraume."

Sukuna left them behind and made his way towards his personal quarters towards the inner part of the property, private enough to scream bloody murder and no one would hear unless he wanted them to.

The only place in Ryomen headquarters that no one other than Uraume was permitted to enter.

A place where you and him could converse freely and live life as though the Yakuza world wasn't just waiting outside those outer doors.

No one dared to even look him in the eye when he marched himself down the hallways and left nothing but the padding of his bare feet on the wine red carpet to match the red all over his body.

Perhaps that was why everyone he passed looked away and bowed far deeper than usual. Not that he minded it at all. It was just the way things happened, including how he was covered head to toe in the blood of his enemies.

When Sukuna arrived at his private quarters, you were right where he expected you to be, sitting at your desk writing something in your leather bound journal.

He entered without knocking, knowing the ins and outs of the study with his eyes closed, knowing the art ladened walls and antique gold lined vase off in the corner like it was his own office. For no one, not even Uraume had access to.

You didn't initially react to his presence, still writing and nursing your cheek with an icepack. "Did you get it all out of your system?"

If it wasn't such a serious time, Sukuna would have chuckled at your attitude seeing as you knew him so well.

"For now," he closed the study door and made his way to the desk. "let me see your cheek."

He stroked the back of your hand with his index finger which prompted you to close your journal and settle the icepack down on the wooden surface.

"Are they dead, or just gravely injured?"

The bruising had taken a hold of your flawless skin, bright red and purple from impact so disgustingly placed on display for all to see. It stoked the pit of lava in Sukuna's stomach enough that he could go out and punch the next person he saw just to quell it for just a second.

It took a moment of loosing himself in your eyes for you to respond to the silence. "I don't think I need to ask, actually. Did you leave a note per chance?"

Sukuna thought back to Awasaka's disembowelled abdomen. "Of sorts."

His knuckle moved and grazed your cheek, dragging slowly and barely brushing past the injured skin so as to not cause you further pain.

Fuck, you were so beautiful. "This won't happen again. And when I find everyone involved, they are going to wish that they endured a quick death when I'm through with them."

Then, you responded to Sukuna in a way that caught him off guard. "Do what you need. Though if it pleases you, I hope you'll let me watch."

Now you weren't opposed to him using violence. You had seen your fair share in the time that Sukuna had known you, it was a fearless part that drew him to you in the first place. But openly asking to be a part was nothing you had voiced before.

He leant against the desk, propping himself onto it to look at you more clearly. "If that is what you want."

And for some reason, Sukuna felt that down to his very soul.

A characteristic that made him fall in love with you all over again.

The way you looked up at him just now, though he was still drenched in Awasaka's blood. Something lustrous and hungry, excited and feverish for an outcome only he could provide.

Sukuna would have given everything up to ensure your safety. His little kingdom, the wealth the Ryomen clan had accumulated, even his life.

Anything for you. Everything.

"I very much want it."

His strength, confidence and brash nature were traits that interested you, things that drew you too him like a bee to flower petals, just watching him from the background with your own perfect traits that collected Sukuna with magnetism.

You could handle yourself physically and most importantly, mentally. There wasn't a time he had ever really seen you loose yourself or seen you display emotions that were drastic. You didn't even loose your temper like people expected a person to.

Right now he knew you were seething, though from an outsiders perspective you were just sitting at your desk asking questions.

Sukuna's hand had cupped your cheek softly and cradled you, his thumb rubbing just short of your ear. "Then you shall have it."

It was rather abrupt, again, being out of the ordinary for you. You shot up from your seat and moved close to him, close enough to plant your palms flat on the desk either side of him.

"Good. Because I'm rather disappointed that I missed out on the show," you nodded to the red bloody marks all over his clothes and hands. "To think you did all this for me and I never even got to see the fun."

Shit. For a moment Sukuna was dumbstruck. Only for a moment before his cock did the thinking for him. If he was a better man, he would have showered first before touching you. but seeing you as you were, pressed close with your chest rising and falling stopped him thinking rationally.

What could he really say in response to that?

"Was it painful?" you eyed him closely, tracing your finger over his chest.

"Yes."

"Did they make you work for it?"

Sukuna finally found his footing and traced the curve of your hips under his palms. "Hardly."

"That's good," getting closer, your lips barely brushed his own, the splatters of blood never deterring you. "An easy fight can be pointless. But it still sure does work up an appetite."

Not even a second more, Sukuna did not allow you to breech the gap between you, he yanked you towards him so quick that teeth almost clashed together and took your lips like he was an extension of you.

He was going to have you right there over your desk.

Sukuna pulled away momentarily, scrunching your hair between his fingers as he inched up the back of your neck. "Having you, leaves me ravenous."

"Have your fill then," your teeth pinched at the edge of your bottom lip.

So he did, in a fluid motion Sukuna turned around and had you on the desk with your back flat against it. Objects and stationary slipped and crashed off of the desk along with the icepack.

Your hips were flush against his, legs wrapping passionately around his waist. His crotch was straining against the material already, begging to be let free right between your legs. The supple skin plush of your thighs sat like velvet under his fingertips, reacting to his touch with shudders.

"Who knew that getting your own way could make you even more tantalising?"

You were spoilt. Sukuna had spoiled you. And he loved it.

Everything and anything you asked, you got. Because he would always give in no matter how outrageous the request was.

Though you never asked of much. Just him.

It was Sukuna who gave you everything. And then you had requests like this.

To see you witness himself at his worst, covered in blood and full of rage so much that he enjoyed it. Absolutely jaw droppingly insatiable.

Much like now since most of the blood had dried, yet some still transferred on to your skin. Your slender fingers clawing at his shoulders leaving red in the fingerprints.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, noses rubbing the other so that his lips ghosted over your own. In the six years you had been married two him, he had a good grasp on what you were thinking.

Your eyes watching him with adoration, did his look the same?

He loved you so much.

"Love me," you said, showing the smallest hint of vulnerability.

And he would, ten times over.

#yakuza au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #ryomen x reader

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hoesluvjude · 2 days ago

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Soulmates || jobe bellingham

Word count: 2k words

Genre:angst? Fluff?

Trope:childhood friends to lovers(requested)

Author's note :I feel like this is bad😭enjoy:) ig

Masterlist

---

Growing up in Birmingham meant there was always a field to kick a ball around or a quiet alley to explore. Jobe and I met when we were just seven years old, both of us waiting impatiently for our parents to finish chatting after a school assembly. He had a football tucked under his arm, his eyes brimming with excitement, and a wide grin that seemed to light up the room.

“Do you play?” he asked, holding out the ball.

I wasn’t much of a footballer, but that day I nodded. It didn’t matter that I missed more shots than I made or that I stumbled trying to keep up with him. Jobe had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even if you weren’t the best at something.

From that day on, we were inseparable. Weekends were spent racing through the streets, climbing trees, and, of course, playing endless games of football. Jobe was always the star, his moves so effortless that even at ten, people said he was destined for greatness.

But to me, he wasn’t just Jobe Bellingham, the future football prodigy. He was the boy who shared his snacks during school trips, who stayed up late talking about his dreams, and who made even the dullest days feel like an adventure.

---

By the time we were fifteen, life had started to change. Jobe’s football talent wasn’t just a rumor anymore; it was a fact. Scouts would show up to his games, taking notes and nodding appreciatively. Everyone at school knew his name. He was always the center of attention, but somehow, he never let it go to his head. Around me, he was still the same Jobe—goofy, kind, and always up for a laugh.

My world, on the other hand, was far less glamorous. While Jobe was off playing matches and training at the academy, I was studying, dreaming of becoming a writer someday. I’d sit in the stands at his games, clutching my notebook. He never failed to wave at me after every goal, pointing at the stands with a grin that said, "See? I told you I’d do it."

---

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked him one day as we sat on the swings at the local park, the orange glow of the setting sun bathing everything in warmth.

“Tired of what?” he asked, kicking at the stones beneath his feet.

“Of everyone expecting you to be perfect all the time.”Jobe shrugged, leaning back.

“Sometimes. But it’s not so bad when I’ve got you around.”I looked at him, surprised by his sincerity. It wasn’t like Jobe to get serious, but when he did, it always left me a little speechless.

---

One day, It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting on the porch, chatting with a new friend I had met recently. His name was Alex, and we had quickly bonded over our shared love of books. We laughed about silly things, and I could feel the connection forming.

Then, I heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Jobe walking up the driveway, his usual confident stride replaced by something I couldn't quite place. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted, though his tone was a bit off. "Who's this?"

"This is Alex," I said, introducing them. "We were just talking about hiking spots."

Jobe’s expression faltered for a moment before he forced a grin. But there was something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before—a flicker of... jealousy?

"You guys seem to be getting along," Jobe said, his voice a little too casual.

Alex and I both laughed, unaware of the tension rising in the air.

Jobe lingered for a moment longer than usual, then suddenly muttered something about needing to run errands. He turned and walked away quickly, leaving me confused.

Later that night, I called him to ask if everything was okay.

"Why are you hanging out with him so much?" Jobe’s voice cracked, betraying the jealousy he had been trying to hide.

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"I don’t know, it just feels weird," he admitted, his voice softening. "You’ve always been my best friend. It’s just... different now."

I paused, realizing that something had shifted. Maybe it was because Jobe and I had been inseparable for so long, and the idea of someone else taking my attention made him uncomfortable.

"I’m still here for you, Jobe," I said, trying to reassure him. "Nothing’s going to change that."

He didn’t answer right away. After a long silence, he finally sighed. "I know. I just don’t like sharing you."

I smiled, understanding now that even the closest friendships could face moments of jealousy. But I knew we’d find our way back to normal.

---

By the time we turned eighteen, our friendship had evolved into something deeper—though neither of us had admitted it yet. Jobe’s career was skyrocketing. He was being called up to play for England’s youth team, and everyone was talking about how he’d soon follow in his brother Jude’s footsteps.

But despite everything, he always found time for me. We’d sit on the roof of his house, staring up at the stars and talking about the future. He’d tell me about his dreams of playing in the Premier League, and I’d share my plans to travel the world.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice quieter than usual, “I don’t think I’d be where I am if it wasn’t for you.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d be just fine without me.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, turning to look at me. His brown eyes, warm and familiar, held a depth I hadn’t noticed before. “You’re the one who’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t.”

Something in his tone made my heart race, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The air between us felt charged, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed, and Jobe looked away, his familiar grin back in place.

---

It wasn’t until a few months later that everything changed. Jobe had invited me to one of his matches, and after he scored the winning goal, he sprinted toward the stands, pointing directly at me. His teammates cheered, the crowd roared, but all I could focus on was the way his eyes searched for mine.

After the match, he found me waiting outside the stadium, shivering in the crisp autumn air. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his sweaty jersey pressing against my cheek. I should’ve pulled away—it was freezing, and he smelled like grass and adrenaline—but I didn’t.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

It wasn’t the answer I expected, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.

---

That night, we ended up back at the park where we’d spent so much of our childhood. The swings creaked under our weight as we sat in silence, the cool breeze brushing against our skin.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we weren’t friends?” Jobe asked suddenly, his voice quiet but steady.

The question caught me off guard. “Why would you ask that?” I said, glancing over at him, trying to understand where this was coming from.

“Because sometimes… I wish we were more than that.” He shrugged, a small, almost sad smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

His words hung in the air, their weight settling in my chest. I turned to look at him fully, my heart pounding. His eyes met mine, and there was something different in them tonight. Something vulnerable. “You mean that?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Jobe nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re too important to me.”

My throat tightened as I struggled to find the right words. My mind raced, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite name. The memories of years spent together—laughing, arguing, supporting each other—flashed before me. And yet, there was something else I hadn’t acknowledged. Something deeper, something that now felt undeniable.

“Jobe, I…” I began, but the words escaped me, tangled in the whirlwind of everything I was feeling. The space between us seemed to shrink, the air around us thickening with unspoken confessions. It felt as though the world had paused, waiting for me to respond.

Before I could finish, Jobe leaned in. His movements were slow, measured, like he was giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. In that moment, the years of hidden feelings, the glances we’d exchanged and the unspoken understanding between us, all poured out. My lips met his softly, the kiss tentative at first, as though we were both testing the waters of something we had never allowed ourselves to explore.

I could feel his breath against my skin, his hands at my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t like the kisses I’d imagined in daydreams. It was more—more real, more raw, more us than I could have ever expected. I felt the years of our friendship transform in an instant, a new kind of closeness unfolding between us, one that felt inevitable yet completely new.

His lips were gentle, but insistent, as if he had been holding back for far too long. I responded, my hands gripping the front of his jacket, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric. I didn’t want to pull away, not now, not when everything inside me seemed to come alive at the contact.

When we finally broke apart, my breath came in shallow bursts, and my heart was racing in a way that made me feel like I was still spinning. My hands lingered at his chest, unsure if I should step back or stay right where I was.

Jobe rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he let out a soft exhale. For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city, but it felt like time itself had stopped.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Jobe murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I looked up at him, my mind still reeling. “What now?” I whispered, the question more of an echo of everything I was feeling.

His eyes opened, and he met my gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before a slow smile tugged at his lips. “Now… we figure this out, I guess.”

I felt a strange warmth spread through me at his words. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t treating this like some fleeting moment. He was here, with me, and he was willing to take this step forward. Together.

“But we’re not just friends anymore, right?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, like I was afraid to hear the answer.

He shook his head, his smile growing. “No, not just friends.”

For a brief moment, there was silence again. I could hear the distant sound of a car passing by, the rustling of leaves in the trees, but it was all background noise to the pulse of excitement, fear, and hope that filled me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it, still unsure of what to expect.

Jobe leaned in again, but this time, it wasn’t for another kiss. Instead, his hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he spoke. “It means I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted that, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I… I feel the same way,” I confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve felt it for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Jobe’s grin widened, and he laughed softly, a sound that was pure joy. “Well, now we’ve said it,” he said, his voice full of relief and something else—something tender.

I nodded, still processing everything. “So, what now?” I asked again, but this time, it didn’t sound uncertain. It sounded like the beginning of something new, something exciting.

Jobe looked out at the park around us, his gaze softening as he took in the familiar sight of the place where we had spent so many hours together as kids. “Now, we take it one step at a time. No rush, just… us.”

I smiled, feeling something light and free inside me that I hadn’t known I’d been holding onto for so long. “That sounds perfect.”

We sat there, side by side, the swings moving slightly with the wind, our hands brushing every so often as if testing the new boundaries between us. But nothing felt awkward, nothing felt wrong. It felt like the next chapter of our story was finally unfolding, and for the first time in a long time, I knew exactly where I wanted to be. Right there, with him.

#jude bellingham #jobe bellingham #football fanfic #football #jobe bellingham x reader

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bamfkeeper · 3 hours ago

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Absolution. | K.W

Do not read if this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just skip it. I mean no disrespect to religion, this is just a stupid fanfic please do not take this seriously.

a/n: I started this fic in JULY. So if the writing seems a little weird, that's why. I've grown a lot since I first started this blog so my style has switched up a bit. I tried to keep to Kurt's character even with the scenario, hopefully I balanced it out okay. Probably not everyone's thing so...don't read if not. Slowly making my way back here. Not proofread, will do at a later date. ;; wc: 4.7k

You were so bored.

It was a lazy day at the mansion, your boredom drove you into a cleaning frenzy. While rummaging through Kurt's wardrobe, you stumbled upon something you hadn't seen before. "Kurt, is this..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you carefully extract the garment from its hiding place.

Kurt glances up from the book he held, perched on the chair sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes softening with recognition. "Ah, ja...my robes," he responds, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Rising from his seat, he approaches you with measured steps, gently taking the robes from your hands. "I have not worn them in quite some time," he muses, his fingers tracing the familiar fabric with reverence.

Intrigued by this glimpse into Kurt's past, you can't help but tilt your head, "You should put them on." Your curiosity piqued, you add, "I'd love to see how you look in them." You didn't share the same views, which might've been why Kurt was a bit reserved about that part of himself, not wanting to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed, eager to see how he looked in his robes. Kurt, ever obliging, nods in response to your request and begins to don his priestly attire. The process is unhurried, almost ritualistic, as he carefully slips into each layer. Once fully dressed, he turns his attention to the details, his fingers working to adjust the collar just so. Standing before the mirror, Kurt takes a moment to assess his reflection, his expression a mixture of familiarity and something like nostalgia crosses his features.

"Well, what do you think, liebling?" he inquired, slowly rotating to face you with his arms slightly extended. His end of his tail tail swayed under the end of the robe in a languid motion as his eyes met yours, curiosity evident in his gaze. As you observed him, an unexpected sensation stirred within you, a powerful and undeniable attraction that you found impossible to ignore. You felt shame bubble in your belly, you shouldn't be this attracted to him like this. It was wrong, but...it felt so right.

Drawn by this magnetic pull, you rose from your seat and approached him. Your voice was low and appreciative as you commented, "You look really good wearing this." Your hand, almost of its own accord, traced a path up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. He responded with a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah... I see that mischievous glint in your eyes. You're thinking naughty things, aren't you?" he remarked, gently placing his hand over yours to halt its exploratory journey.

"I understand what you desire, liebe," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "However, I'm not certain I can fulfill that wish while wearing these garments. They hold too much sacred meaning for me...engaging in such activities while wearing them would feel far too blasphemous." His words trailed off, leaving an air of regret hanging between you.

Kurt held his religious beliefs close to his heart, creating a conflict between his desire not to disappoint you and his need to maintain the sanctity of his attire. The struggle was obvious in his expression as he grappled with the dilemma of wanting to please you without compromising his deeply held convictions.

"Why don't we pretend?" you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Something along the lines of roleplaying, maybe? Given your natural flair for theatrics and showmanship, I'm sure you could have fun with it." The proposition wasn't without merit, and he thought about it for a moment, his mind clearly working through the possibilities. His head tilted to the side in contemplation, and reaching his internal consensus, he nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well," he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm. "We can certainly give that a try. If it brings you happiness, then I'm more than willing." His smile widened as he leaned in, planting a gentle, affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. "However, I'll need a moment to prepare. Allow me to make some alterations to my appearance and demeanor. I have a different robe I will change into, very similar to this one, don't worry. Just less significant to me."

And just like that, the scene was set.

In what felt like a few moments, Kurt had transformed. He now stood towering above you, his presence suddenly commanding and authoritative.

You were on your knees before him, a position that encouraged the power dynamic you both had agreed to explore. Kurt reached down and cupped your chin in his hand, gentle and assertive, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and playful, now held a hint of stern judgment, perfectly in character for the role he had assumed.

"Well, well," he began, his voice taking on a rich, sonorous quality that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been quite the naughty sinner, haven't you?" His tone carried a note of playful admonishment, but there was an underlying current of something more intense. "After all the transgressions you've committed, you now come seeking absolution? Seeking forgiveness from me?" He questioned, his delivery starting off with a hint of theatrical flair.

It was clear that this was new territory for him, and initially, he felt a touch of self-consciousness, a slight awkwardness in inhabiting this unfamiliar role. However, as he continued, you could see him settling into the character, his confidence growing with each word. His initial hesitation was rapidly giving way to a more controlled, measured performance, as he found his footing in this improvised scenario.

You felt nervous and excited, the feelings coursing through your veins, having never engaged in 'roleplay' before. A slight tremor shook your voice and a few nervous chuckles followed, you managed to formulate a response. "Oh, Father Wagner," you began, your words held playful desperation, "I've been so busy, I haven’t had the time to come to you. But now, I find myself in dire need of spiritual cleansing. You're the only one who possesses the power to absolve me of my sins." As the words left your lips, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario.

"My child," he responded, his tone suddenly shifting, "The act of sinning is no trivial matter to be taken lightly." His abrupt immersion into the 'role' caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. He released his grip on your chin and fixed you with a stern, unyielding gaze. "However," he continued, his voice low and resonant, "You are fortunate indeed. For I have been bestowed the ability to purge the corruption of sin from your very soul."

A part of you wanted to burst into laughter, seeing him adopt such a serious demeanor for this playful charade was a surprise. However, not wanting to shatter the illusion or dampen the enjoyment of the moment, you made a conscious effort to maintain your composure and play along. You gave a slight bow with your head, responding in a soft, reverent tone, "Yes, Father Wagner." You repeated his title, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue.

Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, your eyes wide and imploring, your features arranged into the most innocent expression you could muster. "I humbly beseech you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, cleanse my soul of its impurities."

Kurt gently lifted you from the floor and guided you to the bed. "I will have to start with the basics, my dear, but do not be afraid. I promise you, I will purify your soul," he whispered, his voice acting as a soothing balm to your nerves. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he guided you to lay across the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and gentle. "Now, stay perfectly still..." he hummed, his voice a low, melodic rumble. You felt him move away, his presence shifting to the side as he reached for something unseen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you attempted to turn your head, eager to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. However, Kurt's hand swiftly returned, his palm warm against the back of your head as he held you in place. "Ah, nein, my little sinner," he chided softly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You must remain still for the cleansing ritual to work its magic." His fingers began to move, gently scratching your scalp in a soothing manner before he slowly withdrew his touch.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff of frustration, torn between the desire to see and the need to obey his instructions. Despite your impatience, you forced yourself to comply, your body relaxing into the position he had placed you in.

"Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice a mixture of resignation and anticipation. "What exactly do you have in store for me, Father Wagner?" The question hung in the air, your curiosity peaking as you waited, body tense with expectation. The soft sound of Kurt's footsteps reached your ears as he moved around the room. When he returned, you sensed his presence beside you, accompanied by the subtle rustle of fabric.

"I have something special for you, mein Schatz," he murmured, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. You heard the gentle thud of an object being placed on the bed next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a small, ornate box. The sight of it only heightened your curiosity, and Kurt knew it.

"This has all of my cleansing tools, my dear. I promise you I will be forgiven when I am done," Kurt said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand glided over the curve of your ass, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and electrifying. The anticipation built with each passing second, your skin tingling under his fingertips. Just as you began to relax into his caress, he suddenly laid a firm smack to your backside. The sharp sound echoed in the room, followed immediately by a stinging sensation that spread across your skin.

Your eyes widened in shock, and before you could process what had happened, a sharp cry of surprise escaped your lips. "Ah, Kurt!" You spat out, shock in your tone as you blinked and registered the sensation. The unexpected nature of his action left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend that he had actually spanked you, of all things.

"Es tut mir Leid, schatz...are you okay?" Kurt asked, his voice shifting from the dominant tone he had adopted earlier to one of concern. He paused, breaking character for a moment as he gently rubbed his hand over your backside, soothing the lingering sting from his unexpected strike. The tender ministrations of his fingers helped ease the sensation, and you realized that while the spank had been surprising, it hadn't actually hurt. You still appreciated his attentiveness and care, even in the midst of your roleplay. You nodded, meeting his gaze to reassure him of your well-being.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, your voice a little breathier than usual. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you continued, "I just didn't expect it, but I'm down if that's what you wanna do." Your words came out as a purr, laden with a newfound excitement.

A playful glint danced in your eyes, reflecting your growing intrigue with this unexpected turn of events. Kurt's cheeks flushed a light shade of violet, betraying his initial surprise at your enthusiastic response.

For a moment, his carefully constructed persona faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the sweet, sometimes shy man beneath the dominant exterior.

He quickly cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain his composure and slip back into character. As you watched him struggle to maintain his role, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. You were genuinely touched that he had taken the time to check in and ensure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. You gave him a nod, silently telling him you were good to continue.

He delivered another firm smack to your ass, this time with increased intensity. "Such a mischievous creature you are, I certainly have my work cut out for me, ja? What shall I do with such a naughty thing..." he mused, allowing his hand to caress one of your cheeks tenderly before administering another spank. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you bit down gently, eliciting a smile from him. "Remember, liebe, if you wish to stop, simply say 'red'," he cooed reassuringly, planting a gentle kiss along your spine. You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the safe word.

Kurt delicately parted you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing and somewhat playful smile. "My, my, you're already quite aroused, my little sinner...truly a naughty thing indeed. It seems I shall have to purify you in an alternative manner." His voice carried a blend of amusement and authority, causing your heart to race even more rapidly than before. He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing your skin, as he continued in a low, seductive murmur, "This cleansing will be most thorough, I assure you. It will be an experience that shall linger in your memory for quite some time to come...and make you think twice before committing a sin again."

You could feel something warm on your ass and you stiffened slightly, feeling a lubricated finger gently teasing the ring of muscle. He felt your body grow tense, noticing the subtle shift in your posture. Kurt circled his finger around the tightened muscle, trying to ease the tension. "Are you alright, Liebling?" Kurt asked softly, his voice concerned again. "Remember, you can say 'red' if you want to stop at any point," he reminded gently, emphasizing your safety and comfort above all else.

"I-I'm okay, just new...is all." You managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. The sensation of your stomach tightening made everything feel a lot more sensitive. You had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling a bit unsure, but willing to try it.

Kurt slowly pushed his finger past the muscle and you gasped. His finger weaseled its way into you, gently pumping in and out, the lube making it much easier than without. The sensation was so weird, but it felt so good too.

"Nngh...that feels good..." you murmured softly, your entire body melting into his gentle caress. With each delicate movement of his finger, you instinctively leaned back towards him, craving more of his touch. The sensation coursed through you, feeling so alien and unfamiliar, yet simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. The pleasure it brought left you yearning for more, desperate to feel more pleasure from your puckered entrance.

"Does it now? Well...a delicate little thing like you would naturally be drawn to this, wouldn't you? Such a taboo act...and here you are, completely enthralled by it." Kurt's voice was a low, melodious hum, tinged with a playfully sinister undertone. He deliberately withdrew his finger at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every second of your squirming reaction. His intense gaze locked onto yours, observing with rapt attention as you quivered while looking over your shoulder at him.

The corners of his lips gradually curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing the profound effect he was having on you. "Look at you, already trembling like a leaf," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper, the intoxicating thrill of dominance unmistakable in both his tone and his piercing stare.

He decided to indulge in further exploration, his hands delicately gliding up the expanse of your bare back. He paused momentarily to bestow a gentle, comforting massage upon your shoulders, gradually easing away any lingering tension that might have been nestled within your muscles. His fingers traced a path down your spine, offering a soothing rub that coaxed you into an even deeper state of relaxation. You could feel each individual vertebra beneath his expert touch as he worked his way down your back with practiced precision.

As you surrendered more fully to his ministrations, he boldly ventured his hands lower, teasingly and playfully toying with your sensitive nipples. The unexpected sensation shot pleasure through your body, causing your face to flush deeply with a mix of arousal and bashfulness. Unable to contain your reaction, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed in the room, instinctively pressing your hips back against him in a clear display of eagerness and desire.

"Now, my lovely sinner, we shall proceed to the next crucial phase of your purification," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the delicate shell of your ear. "For this part, I'm afraid I must restrain you. Are you comfortable with that, my dearest?" His words, though softly spoken, carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

You could feel your heart thundering within your chest, its rapid beats seeming to reverberate through your entire being. Your mind was racing, filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you tried to imagine what might come next. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, growing more intense and charged.

Every small sound became magnified in the growing silence - the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of breath, the faint creak of floorboards. As you mentally steeled yourself for what was coming, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching out as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

He retrieved a delicate string adorned with small, shimmering beads. The intricate piece bore a striking resemblance to a rosary, yet it was not one in the traditional sense; the carefully chosen beads served a purely aesthetic purpose, devoid of any genuine religious significance. Kurt began to wrap the beaded string around your arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he secured them to the bed. Each loop was placed with thoughtful consideration, ensuring both your comfort and the effectiveness of the restraint.

He then turned his attention to your legs, repeating the process. The beaded strings were artfully arranged, positioning your limbs wide, you were unable to close them. The sensation was novel and a little weird, yet not unpleasant. Before going any further, he paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of restraint and the gentle pressure of the beads against your skin. His eyes met yours as he softly inquired, "Gut?" His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with care and seeking your approval.

After a brief moment of introspection, you responded with a nod, you found yourself surprisingly at ease. The bondage, expertly applied, caused no discomfort whatsoever. He made sure that the bindings around your wrists and ankles were secure without being restrictive or painful for you. Finding your voice, you replied, "I'm good, Father Wagner." Your tone carried a hint of playfulness, embracing the theatrical nature of the scenario.

He was pleased, so he continued. He shifted himself so his cock was exposed, he slowly stroked himself hard and he stepped closer. His cock head gently massaged between your folds and you mentally prepared for penetration but instead, he angled up at your other hole. You took a moment to realize what he was doing and you smirked, "Father Wagner...are you sure I'm the sinner?" You questioned playfully and wriggled your hips back.

"Hush," he said back quietly, his face blushed a bit before he got back in the mindset. "This is necessary for your sins. I unfortunately can't cleanse you through your womb, I must use the other hole you have..." he whispered, his spongy, blushed head pressed against the ring of muscle gently, prodding you lightly and teasing you.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Oh, are you sure I cannot pay for my sins with my pussy?" You asked with a gentle strain, turning to look back at him and blinking with feigned innocence. "Or have I been so naughty that my sweet cunt isn't worth my sins?"

Kurt grinned at your playful words, though caught a little off guard by the vulgarity, he was still enjoying the banter between you and he continued to prod your ass. "Oh, my dear, your sins are far too great for just one part of you to pay...I'm afraid only this hole will do." His tail curled behind him and handed him a small toy, he reached between your legs and teased your throbbing clit before he dragged it through your wet folds and pushed it inside your pussy. "Can't have temptation now can we?"

The surprising action from him made you let out a desperate whine, you could feel your pretty bundle of nerves throbbing at the light touch he had given you. "Only my ass, there isn't any other way?" You questioned, playing along with the direction the scene was going.

He leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades gently and he leaned close to speak in your ear. "Now then...let's see if we can't absolve some of these sins of yours." he whispered teasingly, spreading you a bit more before sliding into your ass slowly. The sudden intrusion into your ass made you stiffen in surprise. It was uncomfortable at first, the muscles not used to being stretched out.

The sensation was intense, causing you to inhale sharply as he eased in just past the tip. Immediately, he halted his movements, his eyes fixed intently on your face to gauge your reaction. Your comfort and well-being were important to him, regardless of the intimate act you were engaged in. He had no desire to inflict any discomfort upon you. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a gentle, concerned tone, his body completely motionless as he awaited your response.

"I just..." you exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, "Need a moment to adjust..." you managed to say, your voice slightly strained. The initial discomfort was challenging, even with the careful preparation he had undertaken beforehand. His hands moved to your hips, gently caressing them in soothing, circular motions, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still, allowing you the time you needed.

Several minutes passed as you gradually acclimated to the new sensation. When you felt ready, you cautiously shifted your hips backward, assisting him in entering further. "Mmm...it's better now...f-feels good," you murmured, your voice a mixture of relief and growing pleasure.

"Gut...I will purify you, my child, do not fear," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He began to move his hips steadily, a rhythmic motion that gradually increased in intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he rocked into you, his thrusts careful and measured until he was fully seated within you. Kurt's arms encircled you, holding you close against his body, the warmth of his embrace felt good against the cool bedroom air.

The soft fabric of his robes swayed gently with each movement, creating a whisper of sound in the quiet room. "Ach....you are tight as a drum," he breathed, his words barely audible. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lose himself in the moment.

You sighed deeply, your body responding to his movements with a shudder that ran from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you were rocking back against him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "I can feel it working," you panted, your voice breathy. "I feel it, getting better...aah...the sins are leaving me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan.

"They will fade, just let me cleanse you..." Kurt hissed against your skin, his hips thrusting faster against you as he focused on pumping himself in and out at a good pace. His cock stretched you so good, your previously unused hole now burning with hot desire, squeezing every ounce of him into your cavern.

"Kurt, oh my god...keep going," you moaned loudly, feeling every single bit of his dick deep inside you. Every vein against the muscle of your ass, the curve of that soft tip and the thickness pushing its way in and out with each piston of his hips. It felt so damn good, you were molding to him.

"I...am almost there, liebling..." Kurt rasped, his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly as he focused his thrusts. His endurance was impressive as hell, and he was determined to continue the pace he set without faltering.

The spade of his tail slithered over your clit and rubbed over it, gently teasing the bud enough for you to react and moan. His hands moved from your hips and ran under you to feel your chest. He was practically laying on you now, his hips not stuttering for a second.

You felt your climax approach and wash over you before you could warn him, and you let out a loud cry of pleasure as you came. Kurt's eyes widened, you tightened around him with your orgasm and his hips halted. He shot his climax deep into you, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he held you still.

Kurt gave a few more solid thrusts before he pulled out of your swollen hole, watching his cum drip out of your throbbing muscle. He felt such pride seeing you this way, but he knew you were extra sensitive now and the play was over after your respective climaxes. He reached and carefully removed the toy from your pussy, earning a soft whine from you.

"Ach...liebe...you will be the death of me..." He moved to unbind you, his fingers working methodically to remove each restraint one by one. As the bindings fell away, your limbs were finally free to relax from their confined position. Your muscles, having been held taut for so long, now felt completely boneless - like warm honey flowing through your veins. You rolled languidly onto your side and curled up into yourself, savoring the pure bliss that came with being able to bend and stretch your limbs again.

He settled beside you, shrugging off his robe before taking one of your arms into his hands as he began to massage the places where the restraints had been. His strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles to encourage proper circulation. Each press of his fingertips was perfectly measured, firm enough to be therapeutic but gentle enough to soothe. He punctuated each rub with soft kisses, his lips trailing over the subtle marks left behind on your skin, trying to kiss away any lingering discomfort.

You were grateful for his gentle touch, melting into his embrace as he carefully tended to you. The warmth of his hands was soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into the comfort he provided. You weren't hurt, but there was definitely a pleasant soreness settling into your muscles now. "That was...amazing," you breathed softly, your voice filled with contentment, "I mean...wow... I don't even know what to say..."

"You liked it?" Kurt asked, a gentle smile playing across his features as his hand splayed across your back, fingers working in slow, methodical circles to ease the tension around your hips.

"I didn't expect you to take the role so easily, or seriously..." You chuckled lightly, looking up at him from where you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. "But...it was fun. I mean, really fun. Did you enjoy it too? You didn't feel pressured into anything, right? I know it was kind of a weird request..."

"Of course not, liebe. I enjoyed it very much. Besides, seeing you so completely blissed out is one of my absolute favorite things to see...~" Kurt teased with a gentle smirk, his playful tone making you squirm as his tail lazily wrapped around your waist.

"Kurt..." You whined and quickly pulled the soft blanket nearby over your flushed body, burying your face against his chest, "We just finished! Don't get any ideas!"

"Okay, okay...no more play tonight. Just let Father Wagner take care of his precious little sinner now. You need your rest."

"Kurt!" You exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm despite the smile you couldn't quite hide. Regardless, you curled up as he continued to pamper you after the scene, his slow rubs and hums lulling you into a much needed nap.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image from unknown source. I searched for over an hour to find the source but wasn't able to find it. If you know please message me so I can update this.

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner smut #nightcrawler smut #x men #xmen #x men 97 #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner x reader smut #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler x reader smut #nightcrawler x men #xmen nightcrawler #🎠my works

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

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Baby Eveyln small update

Tw: Mentions of miscarriage, child loss, voices, mental illness, argueing.

Logan is starting to get worried. A little too worried. Some of the things he is saying make far too much sense, the way he holds the baby, becoming way too serious to be simply coping. If anything, Evelyn was making him cope less, forcing him to spend most of his time with her, taking her to the park, taking her to the store, and even to work. It was getting to the point where Eve was "crying" during class and began to freak out some of the students.

"..but.. Mr. Wade.. she's a toy."

"She's crying!"

The silence was loud to them, but not to Wade, who was now on paid suspension for two weeks to try to settle his mental state but now Wade couldn't even sleep without the doll. He didn't laugh as much anymore. He didn't take many merc jobs anymore. Hell- he didn't want to take any jobs at the moment, even bringing up the idea of being a stay at home dad. This, of course caused an argument.

"Wade, you cant be a stay at home dad if we don't have any kids! If you want to take a break thats fine, but you can't use her as an excuse, shes... shes plastic, honey. You need to realize that. Shes not real. You are making the crying on your own."

"I'm not! An-and she IS crying!"

"All she does is cry apprently! It's not healthy, Wade. Something is wrong!"

"She laughs too! S-she giggles at me! It's real! I-i can hear it!" He cries, still holding the doll in his arms, yelling back like a tired mother in a Drama who just found out her husband was cheating.

"If you don't want to be part of this family.. t-Then don't! Leave us alone! Go! She dosn't need a father like you anyway!" He screams, wearing nothing but his silk nightie robe and a pair of boxers... storming off into their room.

Slamming the door..

So, It leads him to consult an expert in Wade's manic depressive episodes. Vanessa. Wade mentioned them both taking parenting classes to see if they were ready for a kid but the way Wade was describing it... there may have already been one.. Infact that's why he called her here.

At first, he pitter pattered around the subject. Lightly implying, and then beat around the bush, beating the bush finally when she ignored the question, acting as if she hadn't heard. Logan knew already by her avoidance, but he needed her to confirm. To be sure.

"Were you... ever pregnant?..while with Wade, I mean.." It's a whisper, in the corner of some run down diner. He had bought her a piece of strawberry short cake and a coffee in hopes to soften things over, he himself a coffee and buttered pancakes.

"What? No.. why would you think that?" She says, but looks away, quickly taking a drink of her coffee, looking longingly out the window.

"...Ness.."

She glances at him with such wide eyes, frowning. "What is it, Logan?"

"I won't tell him." He states, watching as she swallows, looking around before whispering.

"...It would destroy him."

That's what Logan thought. An internal sigh washed over him as he glances down at the table. "I know.. but with Eve-"

"That stupid babydoll he carries around to torture me with? What about her?" She grunts, by now her eyes teary, begining to look at the ceiling, clearly angry that she couldn't have what she wanted, and yet Wade could play with the doll.

Ooh... that made sense as to why Vanessa wouldn't play mommy and daddy with him. His brows crease upwards, head lowering as he looks at her with such sympathy. "Yeah....Why didn't you tell me? I can put her up when you visit.. so.. It's not as painful..."

"He can't know. No one can know. If he found out, he'd-" Her throat tightens, cutting off as she took a deep breath, now staring at him in his eyes, serious and biting her tounge.

"...Promise me."

"I won't tell him... I promise." Taking a napkin, he passed it to her. "I just.. I need to know what's going on so I can get him help. By helping me, you're helping him." He whispers, letting things sit like that for a while, silently starting to eat his food, waiting patiantly.

Finally, Vanessa took a breath. "Don't let this be for nothing.."

"I won't...Do you know if anyone else could possibly-"

Vanessa gave him a glare. One that said 'Ive been engaged to this bastard for 10 years and you think he has a kid with someone else?'

So Logan nodded. "Got it."

But now this leads Logan to wonder... Did Wade deserve to know? It was his kid afterall...

#Babydoll Evelyn #Evelyn Wilson Howlett #Baby Evelyn au #vanessa carlysle #poolness #poolverinessa #poolveriness #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadclaws

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strawberrygirll13 · 1 day ago

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I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

25 notes · View notes

cutieeva · 3 days ago

Note

Oh shit ! I truly thought that (Y/N) has gone mad but it wasn't that way when I read the second episode !! 😔😔 I am sad for girly yet excited to read the next that's why please please please update fast 😘😘 (Also I love your writing, officially in love with you)

Bullied

Female Reader

Warnings : Bullying. Violence.

⌜ Thank you dearie for loving my art of writing, it never fails to makes me happy and here an belated update. ⌟

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

Loving someone itself is an act of selfish so why is leaving the relationship seen so heinous ? Sometimes one's own sake of happiness is needed more than another's if fallen out of love. The sooner (Y/N) understand the better.

"What is going on in that table ?"

"Is the girl okay ?"

"Why is she making a big deal about all ?"

"He is such a lovely boy yet she is so nasty accusing him for cheating ?"

"If I had a boyfriend like that I would die from happiness".

"He should break up with her".

"She seem toxic".

"(Y/N) ! Stop it and get up". Sophia's irritated voice reach her ears and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel all is jumbled. All is unclear. All is numb because does her suffering doesn't matter ? Yes, perhaps she is overreacting yet is it her fault when he was the one to lie about everything ?

Slowly her (E/C) eyes met Sophia's and other accountances she calls friends and her heart dropped.

Her pale face in snarl.

Other's cheeks red from thoroughly shame.

Another can't even share a glance at her.

The beautiful woman standing in awkward.

The guests are whispering, increasingly harsh, scary and the workers worried.

And lastly Cameron, stood looking hurt. In pain than she was and all her beliefs, reality begin distorting.

Is she a nuisance ?

Is she really overreacting over everything like others ?

Is she the one in wrong for not trusting him ?

Is being dated on bet and built an relationship on lies is alright as long as the faulty party apologize ?

If once the trust she believes was broken in the worst way, then is she the one to create drama ?

Are lies not serious ?

Do lies have little meaning ? Is playing with someone else's feeling is a small price for a relationship she didn't even realize ?

Is she overreacting ? "Am I overreacting ?" Despite people surround her, her own few people even the boyfriend she loved once yet why she suddenly feels so alone ? Lonely ? And hopeless ?

Daze with piling doubts and thousand pairs of eyes watching her, her hand yanked by Cameron. "I am sorry, I apologize for the scene". Smiling like a good man he hold her shoulder and walk her limp body to his car he drove.

In the entirety none dare break the ice in air while Cameron was in disappointment, (Y/N) in utter confusion. All she discover is that she has fall out of love, maybe from the moment he said 'I am now' in front of the men along losing herself. For the fear to let go she latched onto him, gifting him the second chance only to realize her suspicious, love turn into anger and anger form an hatred. An hatred she didn't knew. An hatred so deep she was unable to see his goodness anymore only searching faults.

Her entire being of happy, blunt, forgiving shaped into such a stranger her own eyes have harder to see from the clear fog. She shaped into a vicious, incredulous person. A person she never even dreamed to become.

"Get off". Cameron's that soft, smooth voice rip her from the creeping shadows of words inside her mind and her haze gaze glance to find herself house. His home they decide to turn into their love nest.

Sliding down from the car, she walked towards the lift without waiting for him to follow and press the cold metal button. Her eyes dried from the tears that caught her reflection in the shining metal and she couldn't help find the dark circles weight heavy under her eyes, rim edges red and hair— a mess with barely appropriate clothes on. She looks nothing alike the neat, fresh (Y/N).

She looks wasted, used and worn off self— the door of the lifts snap her out again, she blink twice before stepping in properly. Their floor came faster than she expect and the moment the doorknob twist open. She close her eyes ready to be face with angry lashing, words like knives twisting her guts yet none came.

Rather he remove his coat, wash his hands and smile. "What shall we eat then ?"

She merely stare at him.

He continue to smile. The smile she doesn't find warming, sweet.

"Maybe something different. Like Pollo al Ajillo, in English known as Garlic Chicken ? Hmm ?" A single word didn't slip her lips, standing at her roots.

And without her reply he decided. She watched him not moving her an inch cooking, smiling like a normal couple. Minutes bled into hours and little to no care he serve the food, finally ripping her from her roots and sat her beside him.

Stomach churn in no hunger and eyes burden to open, she look at him. "Let's take a break". The metal spoon his fingers held pause, his smile creased.

"I-I need spac—".

"You don't". He cut off smoothly. His smile wider to it's length than before and the spoon between his fingers lay on the wooden table. "I know what happen today was a little overboard but do not worry. It was my fault after all and it's alright. I forgive you". Soft his eyes he push the plate of food to her, an gesture to eat.

However she couldn't. Her eyes couldn't rip from the oblivious face, acting all normal, when nothing is. Nothing is normal. Their relationship is falling apart, their love draft from one another and trust long out of the picture.

He so easily utter his denial. She doesn't need space, perhaps she doesn't but wouldn't he at least ask the reason behind ? Even if it's known still ask and not play the game of pretend. It's exhausting because they are a real couple not actors in a play.

"Would you not ask me why ?" Her voice in end crack.

"Would it make a difference ?"

"Yes, a lot". Honestly she shares, it will help her a lot to understand the real Cameron, the one who she fell for or the one she saw when the illusion shatter.

He turn his head to her. "We are doing alright. It will be fine. Look am I not improving myself ?" No, she only sees him now complying to her wishes easily.

"I need space". She look away, his face reminding her of those cherish days. "We both need space". She finished, adamant on seperating even if it's for a moment she wants to breath, the tightness on her chest is too much and the alarming mistrust.

Once a pot is broken, even with the finest potter's hands can't fix the remained lines of past.

"Okay". To her surprise he agreed "I see, you need time to cool your head". With that he stood up and went to their shared bedroom leaving her and the cold food behind.

Her finger hold the spoon to take a bite of the dish however few inches from her lips she pause. Staring at the food and can't help but cry of unable to eat at the end. Merely thinking how without waiting for her choice, he cooked the food, only giving an illusion of choices.

☾

When one announce their break up. People's first reaction is :

"Did he cheat ?"

"Did you cheat ?"

"Is he abusive ?"

"Manipulative ?"

"Controlling ?"

"A bet". (Y/N) would say. "I was a bet he was dared to date and in process he fell for me but he always treated not less than a princess and after I found out he begged, confessed his love. From then he always is perfect. Even ignoring my overreaction". All the voices stopped altogether. The harsh, doubtful all pause because in this picture nothing is wrong apart from the fact he was a liar, who lied and fixed himself for better. He really did but can it patch the wounds of her shattered faith in him ?

People always say second chance can change lives, do wonders and in her she saw. She can see why they give second chances yet she can't bring herself to love anymore. She is angry, stuck on the phrase where all laughed at her like a clown, whispering, betting for how long would she last.

Was she a human or a puppet ? He never defended her, he never share his thoughts with her. She doesn't even know him anymore. She really really is lost.

Even walking towards the metal gates of university seem heavy, scary. Her mind already twisted her vision of people laughing, hating her. Being the center of attention she so wants to be away from. Her (E/C) eyes glance around walking to her class recalling not to stumble upon them or him. She is enough exhausted. She doesn't need more.

BANG! She flinched, her nerves jolting.

BANG! Her eyelids snapped shut, shielding herself from the brutality.

BANG! The sound of flesh colliding with metal reverberated through her ears, leaving a buzzing ache. A human body, crumpling like a rag doll.

"Poor him. He should quit or complain". Not so subtle whispers like flicker of fire circle around, reaching her ears.

"Shouldn't he die at this rate ?" Cruel.

"What a bore. Really ? Everyday ? Isn't it such a nuisance—". Cruel. So, so cruel. Just because a person can't help himself doesn't give these people the chance to pity him. To paint him— the victim the cause of his own suffering. His silence was twisted into consent, his helplessness fuel for their merciless ridicule.

Cruel. Cruel. Cruel. Cruel. Laughter like devilish cackles echoed, faces feigning sympathy, eyes gleaming with fox-like innocence. Cowardly souls, masking their true nature.

She, too, wore a mask, hypocrisy veiling her own darkness.

That's why in a blink of an eye. Her once neat clean palm painted in crimson, stretch of iron reeking the air, painful grunts and horried screams and distorted yells is making no sense to her. She can't understand the aching in her palm, the cries of the familiar boy's underneath her, chanting of word fight and her own tears rolling down.

"Fight. Fight. Fright. Fright". The crowd roar fueling her more and more and more. Why are they encouraging ? Yet why does it feel like she is revelling in it ?

"(Y/N) ! Stop beating Adrian". Oh. Her palms ache because she is punching his face, painted in crimson because it's his blood, cries belong to Adrian who lay beneath her helpless like that boy he was seconds ago using as a ragdoll.

How wonderful.

She can't stop. She punch and punch and punch and punch uttering only three words. "I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry". Not to the bully— no never to Adrian. Never to the boy who is violent to innocent. It's to the victim, to the unknown jester of everyone's joke. For Everyone's play. For the system that enable Adrian's cruelty into fun.

She is sorry for blind. She is sorry for foolish. She is sorry for being coward. She is sorry for ignoring him. She is sorry for wearing mask of pretense herself. She is sorry for falling into the lies of Cameron. She is sorry for saying yes to his proposal. She is sorry for overreacting. She is sorry for suspecting. She is sorry for losing trust. She is sorry for not being happy with a perfect boyfriend.

She is sorry for fell in love.

She is sorry for.....everything.

To herself.

To everything.

☾

Dry tears stain her (S/C) cheeks as in empty space she stare, leaning on the chair in front of director's office. The woman's words faded into background noise, inaudible over the cacophony of her thoughts.

Her mind replayed the chaos: the frantic struggle, the flash of anger, the blur of fists. She couldn't recall who intervened, pulling her back from the brink of destruction. By then, he had already crumpled, unconscious. Her tangled hair bore witness to the scuffle, matted from the grasping hands of his minions, few blood dotted her blue jeans, a crimson constellation from her own nose. Her torn t-shirt hung askew, shoulder exposed while he— lay worse. Broken. Lifeless almost.

Yet no remorse stirred in her stomach, surprisingly. Instead, a lingering sense of justification lingered, eclipsed only by the anguish she felt for the victim. The one she had been compelled to defend, driven by a primal urge to protect she only dreamed.

"(Y/N), can you hear me?" The director's voice cut through the tension. "Do you comprehend the gravity of your situation? You're at risk of expelled !" An humorless laugh almost slip from (Y/N).

Expelled for what ? Punching a deserving scum to death while he punch an innocent boy to death when his skin wasn't even healed from the stitches of wounds Adrian left on him ?

(E/C) eyes stare at the female director who's blue glossy eyes stare at (Y/N) like she was a demon of chao when in her view, the real corrupt could be the adult, this lady who blind these physical, emotion abuse. Pain so small like (Y/N)'s bet and huge imprinting like that boy's scars for eternal to remember. Become something that etched in their memories, their experiences, though grave and painful, would be reduced to cautionary stories, diluted by time and retelling. The true weight of their suffering would remain unspoken, lost amidst the faint whispers of a forgotten past.

The tense standoff ended when the director's blue eyes darted past (Y/N), as if catching something She sighed audibly, her expression softening. "Get out. Reflect on your actions and the reasons for your two-week suspension. Expulsion is off the table." She mused confusing (Y/N)'s daze self a little and when she stood up, walking out of the room.

She understand meeting his concern eyes. Her boyfriend must have used his power.

Cameron swallowed under her intense gaze, part his lips to say when she continue to walk, aware of the pain in her body suddenly.

Alone in the empty hallway, she felt a fleeting sense of peace, liberated from the weight of others' judgments. Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she moved, ghost-like. Her eyes drifted to the scattered belongings on the floor, remnants of the chaos. She bent to gather them, her movements slow and deliberate.

A sudden twinge of pain shot through her knee as she crouched. (Y/N) winced, noticing the cut, a crimson gash on her pale skin. She gingerly touched the wound, her fingers tracing the tender edge. This time she felt like crying with clarity, like she knew what she was crying for along a need. Tears swell within her (E/C) eyes waiting to fall.

"It will hurt more if you cry". Calmly she gaze beside her. To the lockers where the boy slumped, his face still smeared with blood. The indifference surrounding him was palpable, as if no one cared about his suffering. (Y/N) press her lips, pulling a white handkerchief to hand him.

He accepted the handkerchief, his fingers brushing against hers. With gentle movements, he wiped the blood from his face, revealing a canvas of bruises and wounds beneath. For the first time, (Y/N) saw his true complexion – pale, with a hint of rosy undertones. The vibrant hues of his injuries – purple, blue, and crimson – stood in stark contrast to his delicate skin.

As the blood was wiped away, his features emerged, and (Y/N) noticed the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the gentle curve of his nose, and the softness of his lips.

"I am sorry". It fell out before she could revise or add.

"Don't be". He shake his head. "Everyone's coward. Even me". (Y/N) desire to protest of his own situation.

"I am talking about you". She blink. "You are Cameron's girlfriend". He utter like a fact. "All business major knew about a bet on a girl. They just didn't knew who until one of Cameron's friend told about your relationship making everyone realize who she is but wasn't sure". Her breath hitched. So they did. All did.

"I too, because I am from business major. Yet I was a coward to not say the truth or at least..." He tailed off. "Warn you". He finished heavy silence weight the air. (Y/N) inhale, not finding words to explain the mess of feelings she is having. Indeed both were jester of everyone's joke.

As she scoffed, her gaze trailed his movements, expecting him to walk away. But instead, he swooped down, his lithe frame folding into a crouch beside her. His amber eyes locked onto her knee, the cut a tiny, crimson gash.

Without a word, he reached out, his fingertips grazing her skin as he applied a band-aid. A shiver danced up her spine at the gentle touch.

"You know you're also being bullied?" His voice was low, concerned. Her eyes lift to his focused ones on her cut, whispering a "No".

"Bullying is not only physical you know. It can be emotional too. And what is happening to you is bullying too. An emotional one where he took advantage of your trust, then play with your feelings, manipulate you into staying in the relationship when you clearly in daze of the complexity and not in right state. If he truly cared about you, wouldn't he have asked how you felt or given you the space to think? Wouldn't he have prioritized your well-being over his own desires? But instead, he rushed you into this relationship, disregarding your boundaries and emotions". His words felt like sting of bees she couldn't process as the image of Cameron's pained face when she accused of him cheating in front of others.

His pure happiness when he pull the chair for her in front of her parents.

His patience when she was crying so suddenly and at the restaurant.

Her colleagues Sofia and others disturbed faces and harsh whispers.

"No. No. He is not perfect, yes. He is not good entirely. He is a liar but he improved. It is I who has problem. I fall out of love, mistrust him and..." Her throat felt dry to speak and she swallowed having difficulty seeing. The problem lies in her. She is the odd, fallen one.

The boy finally gaze his amber eyes and said. "If Cameron really is a good person. Not perfect, good. Then why in the first place are you lashing out and angrily pushing your anger on Adrian ? And in a mess mindset ?" It left (Y/N) shunned. Because truly did she blames Cameron for her misery. Hates him for his mockery of perfection. However never did she blame him for his entanglement to this relationship based on lies for her was truth.

"Let's assume Cameron is a good person who genuinely cares for you and loves you deeply, but isn't able to let you go. However, if being with him no longer brings you happiness— not because of his flaws, but because your feelings have changed and you're staying solely out of guilt or obligation, don't you think it's time to reevaluate? For your own sake, shouldn't you prioritize your happiness even if it's selfishness ?"

As he stood, dusting off his pants, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes held a gentle intensity. "After all, loving someone is, in itself, a selfish act," he added, his voice low and thoughtful.

"I am saying this because you came out of your cowardness for me and I for you". the boy said, wincing as he gingerly touched his jaw. "I should get to the nurse," he added, his voice laced with discomfort.

She swiftly stood up, her hand brushing against his arm with an awkward yet tender touch. "Let me help."

"No, it's okay..." He trailed off, his mind reeling as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His legs weakened, and he swayed precariously, almost toppling over.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in alarm as she swiftly grasped his arms, her grip tight.

𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅

☾ ────────

#dark romance #female reader #male yandere #x reader #yanderexreader #yandere community #yandere x fem reader #chubby reader #obsession #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #angst #light angst #romance

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generational-atrophy · 2 days ago

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OMG! I WAS LOOKING THROUGH UR BLOG CUZ MY HETALIA PHASE IS BACK AND WAS LIKE "I LOVE THIS WRITER SM WHERE ARE THEY" AND BOOM!

So request, if that's okay, the main 8 with a reader who cries during confrontations and or arguments. An imagine where ofc the main 8 says something hurtful and reader just covers their ears because 1.) Ears do be sensitive and 2.) It causes them to shut down completely

Can we know how they'd handle it plus how it'd go? Ty 💜

hetalia main 8 saying something they regret in an argument

2.8k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: they say hurtful things, and are kind of assholes in general lol

America - Alfred F. Jones

“I’m better than this. Why’d I keep someone as seriously uncool as you around?!”

Even as you immediately begin turning away from him, curling into yourself for comfort, Alfred would be less than sympathetic. If you’d ever doubted how self-centred he could be, this was more than enough evidence to prove it.

“What? What- just- don’t do that! You’re the one who started this!”

It’s unlikely he’d let up even after the tears start. He’s really that callous when he feels hurt. After a few tense minutes of silence broken only by your quiet whimpering, he’d start tearing up too. Not from guilt, seeing how much he hurt you. But instead from how he’s only now realizing he has to put his own feelings aside to take care of yours.

He’d approach you like a rabid animal, a lump stuck in his throat as he tries to say anything to get you talking again.

“Listen, it’s uh- not that serious. I’m sorry, ok? Let’s just… like- do something else?”

His comforting consists mostly of trying to get you out of your own head. Once it’s been long enough that you’re less scared, he’d take your hands away from your ears gently and kiss your cheek. If you’re sensitive to other things, he’d wrap his jacket around your shoulders and turn off the lights until you’re up and talking again.

“See? Not that hard, just like I said. Good job, babe… let’s just keep going like this, yeah?”

Somewhere, past all of the self-absorption and pride, he does have a heart. And that heart will immediately take you out to get ice cream. It’d take him a while to admit fault (and I mean real responsibility, not just his usual “sorry not sorry, move on,” schtick,) but maybe once your tear stains have dried, he’d realize what an ass he’d been.

England - Arthur Kirkland

“G*d, you’re pissing me off already! Just- fuck- get out of here if you hate us so much!”

Like usual. He’s desperate to just leave as soon as there’s conflict. It may be annoying, but at least he’s only doing it because he knows how awful he is when frustrated.

If you don’t take up his offer to abandon the conversation, he will. You’d have to be seriously struggling to keep him with you in that moment.

“Trust me, everything will be much, much worse if I stay…”

He’s always acting like that. It’s like his conscience disappears when he speaks, but only returns when he’s already said the hurtful thing. Never taking responsibility, always panicking and leaving just as your tears start to fall.

But, the more you tell him how much that hurts, the more he might be willing to stay.

It’ll take him a while to be able to choke out a cowardly “sorry,” but at least he’ll stop trying to push you away at every occasion.

“Wait- don’t cry so much love, I’m- I… I didn’t mean it. Ok? Is that better?”

It’s impossible for him to keep arguing once you’re truly upset. Instead, he’ll take you by the hand to the kitchen so he can start making tea for the two of you. In that silence, he encourages you to speak whatever awful thoughts you’re repeating to yourself. He’s just trying to get you in a comfortable environment again at that point.

Quiet affirmations are the only things he’ll bring, looking at you sympathetically and still holding your hand tight while you talk about whatever you want to. Whether that be something completely random, insults towards him, or actual constructive discussion is up to you.

At the end of the night, he’ll apologize. Not well, mind you, but enough to dissuade you from whatever hurt you earlier. All that matters to him is that you don’t go to bed upset.

“I’ll do better next time… or- I mean- I’ll do my best to… not be like that… again. Promise.”

France - Francois Bonnefoy

“But is it that impossible for you to put in some effort? It’s just… embarrassing to be with you right now!”

He’s always been a fighter for sport. When he argues with you, it’s not to prove a point. It’s probably not about anything he actually cares about either. He honestly just does it for fun. To him, arguing is how you really get to know someone.

So when you take his words to heart and, in the worst case, start crying, he just really doesn’t know what to do.

“Merde, darling, you know I wasn’t being serious! Come on now, don’t take it so personally…”

He may grumble about how he didn’t want you to get so upset, but at least he’ll still calm down and quit pushing you. Whatever tension there was before will dissipate as soon as he sighs, making his way over to you and wrapping you in his embrace. Unless that makes you even more uncomfortable, in which case he’ll just grab your favourite blanket and gently drape it over your shoulders.

“I am so sorry I made you so upset, I really didn’t mean it. You’re wonderful to me, always so stunning!”

For as long as you need him to, he’ll apologize over and over again, playing with your hair and wiping away your tears as delicately as he can manage. He may be just as upset as you are when he realizes what he did, but he’s shockingly good at compartmentalizing that when you need support.

But, if you focus too much on how he hurt you, he might start crying too. He can’t help it. Ignore him.

Either way, he’s there to hold you and validate you in whatever you might be feeling at that moment. Be as irrational as you need to be, he understands the urge well. And either way, he’ll just nod along to anything you say and insist it’s everyone else's fault. Including his, unlike basically every other man.

“How can you expect to survive when you hold all of this in? Please, always come to me even with small things, we share everything as lovers, yes? I cannot bear to see you as upset as this…”

China - Yao Wang

“Can’t you act your age? How do you expect anyone to put up with you like this?!”

As soon he says it, he knows that was an awful thing to say. He doesn’t need you to tell him, he can tell just by your expression that it was too far. You didn’t deserve that, he told himself.

But that doesn’t mean his ego is gonna let him give in so easily. Even if he was an ass, he still can’t let himself give up “authority” in a fight.

“Agh- that’s not… its not what I mean to say, alright?! So just… pretend I did not….”

If you quit fighting, instead becoming more upset, he’ll really struggle to calm down instead. Like, yes, he knows he should be trying to make you feel better, but that’s- he just doesn’t want to! He entered this fight with a purpose, and just because you’re crying doesn’t make that purpose any less important!

“Why won’t you argue back?! Aiyah, I knew you were childish but-”

Then he cuts himself off. Does he want to be the bigger person and apologize? No. But will he do it if you stop crying? Yes.

He’ll rest a hand on your arm and suggest in the gentlest voice possible that the two of you should go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help both of you clear your heads. He doesn’t know what must’ve happened to him to make him say all of those things either.

“I don’t think those thoughts, tiánxīn. I’m sorry I said it, I was upset but… I still should have known better.”

For as quickly as he’s willing to take responsibility, he’s not as much good at the “getting you out of breakdown” stage. Hopefully, you’ve already communicated with him about that so he knows to stop being so loud and trying to touch you. He’ll do whatever you request of him, but what’s best for you in that moment is probably not his first instinct.

“I’m sorry I was being such a huge ass. I love you, I promise.”

Russia - Ivan Braginsky

“You think you are special? I can beat sense into you just like I can them!”

Good luck getting him to understand that you can’t just threaten people within the next few hours. It will not work. When he’s angry, he really doesn’t care about feelings. Just about getting you to cooperate with whatever he says.

He may usually think of both of you as equals, but when you start seriously challenging his authority while he’s in a bad mood, it’s impossible for him to not be cruel. It’s always just better to leave than let him spiral and hurt both of you in the process

Although, he (obviously) would never actually put his hands on you. He just acts like a big baby and’ll stomp his feet and tell you whatever will get the most reaction out of you.

“Любимый, won’t you come out? I’m very sorry, I promise… can’t we just talk?”

But if you do remove yourself from the situation, he would never chase after you and force you to keep being in that awful environment. He knows better than that at least.

The moment you turn away and refuse to engage with his childishness, he’s already planning how to get you to forgive him. For as callous as it seems, your disapproval hurts him more than anything else. He would come to you on his knees, snivelling and pleading, if that was what he had to do just for you to look at him again

The moment you let him in though, he just rushes over and captures you in his arms. He would dry your tears as gently as he could, treating you like you were made of glass.

“Куколка, куколка, you know I never mean any of that, right? I’m sorry, sorry, please- please, forgive me? If I kiss it better, will you forgive me, любимый?”

He’s so pathetic. Ask anything of him in this state and he’ll do it without hesitation. Unless it’s staying away physically. He’ll be quiet and let you ignore him but don’t try to push him away or he’ll get whiney. If you stress that it isn’t personal enough, maybe he’ll let it go though.

North Italy - Feliciano Vargas

“Why aren’t I good enough? You always abandon me, like- like I’m nothing! Why do you hate me!?”

The moment either of you pick a fight, he’s already sobbing. Sure, he can argue with his brother for hours, but you matter to him in a much more vulnerable way. If you’re at all upset with him, he instantly feels like you don’t like him any more.

But when he feels attacked, he attacks just as much. In his subconscious, it’s always easier to push you away than have you abandon him yourself. That doesn’t result in very productive conversations, though.

“You’re just pretending you love me! You’re a liar, I- I know it!”

When you start crying along with him from all the awful things he’s said, two things can happen.

One, he cries harder, interpreting your hurt feelings as being an admittance to what he accused you of. Why would you be crying if it wasn’t from guilt, and why’d he say that when he so dreaded it being true?!

Or two, you’ll tell him about how truly terrible it feels to have him think those things about you, and he’ll snap out of it. His overwhelming emotions make him incredibly selfish at the moment, so he truly hadn’t considered how you felt from all of that.

Then he immediately lowers his voice, giving you plenty of space until you feel up to talking again.

��Oh… I’m sorry! I didn’t- you wouldn’t do that! I know that, you know that, so just- I’m sorry! Please, forgive me, amore mio dolce!”

He pulls you into a hug immediately, keeping the two of you as close as physically possible as he whispers promise after promise of his love. Until your tears dry, he won’t stop strangling you with unabashed affection, doing anything he can just to get you smiling again.

The feeling of guilt is not something he’s used to. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’ll start crying again too.

“If I ever make you feel bad again, please shut me up, please! I can’t take the thought of you so hurt by my words!”

Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt

“My word should be more than enough for you to shut up already!”

It’s exceedingly rare that he ever loses his temper around you like that. Normally, you’re the one thing that can always calm him down. Just looking at your face makes his chest fill with butterflies, drowning out whatever dark thoughts he’s having.

So, needless to say, he immediately regrets snapping at you. Immediately.

“Wait, no- no, I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t mean to. It’s not true, just- just stupid, I’m sorry, liebling…”

Whatever you two were arguing about is instantly forgotten as he rushes over to you and takes your face in his hands. It just breaks his heart to see you hurt, much more at his own actions. You don’t have to worry about him taking responsibility, he would never try to dodge the guilt of making you cry.

It’s not the first time he’s lost control, and he knows it’s his fault. But maybe if he takes you in his arms gently enough, rocking you back and forth as you cry into his shoulder, it’ll make it a little easier for you.

But if you just need a silent moment to yourself, that’s perfectly fine too. He’s autistic, so he certainly understands the feeling and will happily provide you with whatever comforting items you request.

“I’m sorry… you didn’t deserve what I said. I love you, please tell me you know that…”

Even if you pretend you weren’t that upset by it, Ludwig wouldn’t let it go like that. If he gets to his breaking point like that, whatever fight you were having is put aside for the night. Now all that matters to him is that the two of you make up and get back into how things were before as soon as possible.

Expect him to be beating himself up for a while though. He just wants you to know how sorry he is, how much he regrets snapping at you, even if it does seem a bit excessive. But he’s just had too many people he cared about leave to not make a whole thing out of it.

Japan - Kiku Honda

“Don’t you have any sense of personal space? You are like- choking me with all of… you! I can’t stand it!”

He’s a logical man. That’s one thing he always tells himself. Never, not even when he’s emotional, does he say things he doesn’t mean. Was the way he said it less than perfect? Yes, of course, he can’t believe he had just acted so impolitely, especially to someone who he cares so much for. But he still… meant what he said.

But, for the first time, as he watches your face break slowly, he’s not so sure of himself. Whether he meant it or not seems suddenly so inconsequential compared to the thought of hurting you. He… upset you? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Ah- why are you crying? What is wrong? You… you- it will be… alright, you know? You are ok!”

Wait- no, don’t cry more from that! He has absolutely no idea how to comfort you, but if he really has to, he’ll do his best. Although it’s a little difficult for him to resist drawing your hands away from your ears, he’ll do his best to just let you have your process (no matter what that means for you.)

Before you can even hear him coming closer, you’re suddenly drawn into an intimate hug. His hand drawing your head underneath his and kissing the crown of your head so lovingly, it's almost like another person possessed him as he turns so soft just at the sight of your tears

Would his pride usually reject this? Yes, but, it’s certainly not the first time he’s had to put that aside for you.

He’ll sputter generic apologies, purposefully hiding his grimace as he forces himself to forget about whatever you two were arguing about before. Well, at least for now. Most likely he’ll bring it up not long after, but in a much more… non-confrontational way.

“Let us go do something else instead, hm? You’ll only get more upset like this, and I want that as little as you want it.”

On one hand, he’s a little annoyed he had to put aside his own gripes to calm you down. But on the other hand, he hates conflict. Anything that gets you guys back to normal is worth it, especially if otherwise you’ll be crying in his arms. That’s his absolute nightmare.

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swifty-fox · 21 hours ago

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Soooooo excited for more Benny and Brady heheheh

i'd show you some smut but first they're going through the Horrors

“One,” Gale murmurs under his breath, voice so absent Benny knows he doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud, “Two, Three, Four…”

Five, Six, Seven, Eight, come the fuck on Johnny, Nine…

Paddlefoot’s Proxy slips through the cloud cover with all the grace of a cannonball and Benny breathes exactly none because she is about as devastated as a bird could be and still soar.

Chunks from the wings and tail sheared clean off by flak, flaps missing or only half raised, rattling with the effort, leaking fluid and debris and shuddering with the exertion of it all. There’s a hole in her belly, spilling guts across the tarmac and Gale’s shouting for an ambulance, for a fire crew, John echoing in his broader, louder voice. Benny’s not shouting, Benny’s still not breathing, he’s scared to take any air from the sky that might soften Proxy’s landing. Somehow she’s still got landing gear, somehow they spool out seamlessly and she drops down to earth with hardly more than a bounce, creaking and groaning and sobbing but coming to a graceful stop all the same.

Benny breathes out. Feels Gale leave his side, calling for space, calling for emergency crews, the wailing sirens growing closer and closer. He won’t go, won’t risk being in the way so he’s not close enough to see the faces of the battered bloody bodies they pull from the open gut-wound of Proxy, their screams faint and tinny and smothered by the thick fog. He waits and he breathes and he listens to men die in the distance and dies exactly nothing about it because it isn’t his job to do anything about it aside from stay out of the way.

There’s commotion up by the cockpit, human bodies crawling over the surface of her body like ants and Bennty brings the cigarette to his mouth mechanically. Smokes his way through five minutes of waiting, then fifteen, and then thirty. The ambulance leaves, laden with wounded bodies and Benny won’t go until he’s sure everyone is out but he isn’t sure who’s left at this point, if all of Proxy’s children had been chauffeured away bloody and broken.

Figures come back through the fog. Ken Lemmons, a handful of Brady’s crew, pale-faced and stricken, Major Cleven, Major Egan. Both different from Buck and Bucky, with the distinction between all in the serious set of their mouths. And then Benny stumbles, though he isn’t even walking, or maybe it’s just his heart forgetting to work for just a moment.

John Brady, face freckled by sun and blood, hair a wet slick back from his forehead, baring every bit of the pale, blank shock written there. There’s a cut high on his cheekbone, still oozing watery blood, a bruise across the bridge of his nose like he’d adjusted the sit of his oxygen mask – a nervous habit – so many times it had left damage to the skin. But he was standing, he was walking, and had been cleared by the immediate medical crew.

“Johnny,” Benny calls in a voice he doesn’t recognize.

Says it again when Johnny seems to take a moment to focus on him. He leans forward and places his half-finished cigarette between the other mans lips. Johnny pauses, blinks a few times like he has to remember what to do with the tobacco, and takes it from Benny’s fingers as gently as Meatball with a treat. Normally, it would make somewhere around Benny’s hips tingle.

“Was it bad, Jack?” he asks stupidly, like it could have been anything but bad, horrendous, soul-rotting. Just like every single time was.

“Captian Brady’s cockpit door jammed,” Bucky says, “Flak cut comms with the crew.”

He could have been flying a graveyard, for all he knew.

“Gotta get him to interrogation,” Bucky adds kindly. The information already given a kindness, the formality a gentle warning.

It’s just them so Benny reaches out, takes hold of Johnny’s bloody, bird-boned wrist and squeezes once, twice, three times.

this will be out thanksgiving day!!! featuring dom bottom John Brady

#swiftywrites #brenny #benny x brady #john brady #benny demarco

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morganski-19 · 2 months ago

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The curse of writing an outsider pov fic is having ideas of conversations that would happen only between the main couple. Like, it would be rude for someone to overhear it for it to be in the fic. And I want to include it/write it so bad, but it might never see the fic.

Unless, you know, I make the fic a series and have it be a separate piece. Just a thought

#this is about chills right to the marrow #i have this perfect steve monologue that he would say to eddie #but it would be so out of character for the two povs to overhear this #like they would see that it was a serious moment and then leave #or never see it at all because they just aren't there #but i can't stop thinking about it #morgan rambles

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luck-of-the-drawings · 7 months ago

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"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi suckening #jrwi suckening spoilers #jrwi the suckening #arthur bennett #HEY SO THE REALLY FUNNY THING THAT THE CHARACTER DID THAT SEEMED RLY SILLY N GOOFY IN THE MOMENT?#LIKE THE WHIPLASH BETWEEN SERIOUS N SILLY ALMOST PISSED YOU OFF? WHAT IF I FOUND A WAY TO MAKE YOU SAD ABOUT IT #this was meant to be a scribble that would be a bigger part of a bigger page.might leave it on that page.#but still. bc o that i nearly posted it onto my wacky side blog.BUT NAYY I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME N ENERGY N YOU GOTTA SEE IT #ARTHUR BENNETT DRIVES ME CRAZY. I FEEL LIKE ITS ODD FOR HIM TO BE SO TECHNOLOGICALLY OUT OF TOUCH #WHERE HAS HE BEEN. HAS HE BEEN IN WAR? IS THAT WHERE MAGNUS CAME FROM? WHERE WAS HE WHEN HE WAS WITH EDWARDS CREW?#ARTHURRR I HAVE QUESTIONS ARTTHUUURR!! HEY CAN I ALSO ASK; WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BECOME #DO YOU THINK HE HAD ANY IDEA HE WOULD VEER CLOSER AND CLOSER TO THE MONSTER HE DESPISES. ALL BC HE DESERVES IT. OR WATEVER #HE FASCINATES ME SO MUCH. TO LOOK AT THE STONE COLD STOIC FOOL FROM THE START OF THE SHOW #AND TO FIND OUT THAT HE USED TO BE A BAD BOY.. A DELINQUENT... A LIL PRANKSTER.... MY GODDD THATS ADORABLE #I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW MORE.... BUT I DOUBT THE LAST EPISODE IS GONNA ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS..i love arthur bennett so much....#AS FOR THE ART!! i mostly used the fire alpaca watercolor brush. tbh im not a brush guy. anti aliased default pen tends to be my main game #but LATELY IM SQQQUIRMIN OUT OF AN ARTBLOCK so expirimenting like this is helping #DONT LOOK TOO HARD AT IT!! im still proud tho. colors are fun :3 im also very proud of the backgrounds #I LOVE THE CARTOON THING where the background looks all fancy n painted but the characters are solid colors #what else can i ramble abt. OH YEAH. i looked up the bikes to make sure they were time accurate tehehehe. 1913 to 2012.#almost a century apart!! isnt that neat? ALSO FUUUCK CAN I JUST MAKE A QUICK CONFESSION. DOWN HERE IN MY TAGS.#only the strongest can read my tags anwyay. SO I REALIZED WHY I LOVE ARTHUR SO MUCH. TIME IS A FLAT CIRCLE #while arthur is a Stoic and Cool vampire w a knack for being playful/silly; who alsos been alive fora century thus witnessing HORRORs #THERE HAPPENS TO BE A ROBOT FROM A BAND W A TITANIUM ALLOY SPINAL COLLUMN #WHOS A Stoic and Cool ROBOT w a knack for being playful/silly; who alsos been alive fora century thus witnessing HORRORS #the fuckkkiiinnngggnn The Spine from steam powered giraffe. WHATEVER. i cant escape from my heart. i guess.#i think The Spine and Arthur could be friends. Arthur saw the band perform back when they were the Steam Man Band #EDIT: WOOPS I DIDNT REALIZE THIS WOULD END UP IN THE SPG TAG. HI GUYS DIDNT KNOW U WERE STILL ALIVE SORREE 4 THE CROSS CONTAMINATION

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tleeaves · 7 days ago

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There are two wolves inside me. One wants to embrace a new hobby in dance so I can be active and feel elegant and graceful and strong. This wolf wants to try something new and exciting, finally indulging in something I've always had an interest in.

The other experiences such frustrating emotions on a near daily basis that I want to go back to boxing, which is arguably easier to break into since I've already done it before. This wolf doesn't think of elegance, she just wants to fuck shit up until her body's so overworked and warm it fogs up car windows without having to do anything but sit inside.

Which one do I fucking feed??

#t. lee woes #like. do you know how hard it is trying to start something new that you've never done at all ever before??#and you've got no mode of transport until december - and ONLY if things go well #and now you're contemplating ways to mkre regularly earn a bit of money to afford the classes since paying weekly means my income #would wind up like $9 a fortnight since $40 would be spent by the end of each fortnight #it wouldn't necessarily be stagnant but it's not a desirable position to be in #I still have stuff saved up in a jar but I'm always hesitant to dip into that stuff #originally it was going toward a violin and lessons for that but I'm putting it off in favour of something a bit easier to dedicate time to #boxing is easy. in fact I could get support from my fam for that cause they like it #they don't see the point in dancing but I really want to at least try it and I'm worried about affording each term if I do end up liking it #also I already have boxing gear from before #but I'm hesitant about boxing at the moment for a lot of reasons I can't quite articulate but weirdly might have something to do with #internalised misogyny and biases... which is WILD cause my dad supports women learning martial arts #I can't do karate though I tried that and the class drove me a little insane #and it doesn't push you the same way boxing does and I really like to be pushed #if I don't leave sweating and hot and lungs and muscles aching then what's the point?? I can do mediocre exercise at home #and find more intense martial arts classes that also teach other kinds of self-defense #it's like... ehhhh #anyway but also I want to do something that's for fun that isn't so Serious Fight Mode #hence dancing #but I can only afford one not both and basically I'm grumpy today cause I was gonna trial a dance class - got ready and everything - but #my ride was suddenly unavailable. and I still can't stomach public transport. nor am I good at navigating it #it feels so different here compared to where I used to live - and I knew trains better not buses

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christian-halloway · 2 days ago

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Christian couldn't help but smile at Este's words, the warmth in her voice making his heart race. He’d never expected a blind date to feel like this, not in a million years. She wasn’t just fun and full of life—she was real, and that was rare in his world. He leaned in slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at her, the hat still perched atop her head. "Well, you wear it well," he said with a grin, his voice low and steady, the kind of tone that suggested he meant every word. He took a beat, letting the moment settle, before he continued. "I don't think I’ve ever met anyone who felt so comfortable with me so quick." He chuckled softly, the sound deep and warm, then gave her a look that made it clear he was serious. Christian leaned in, his hand grazing her arm for a brief moment, just enough to make her feel the spark between them without overstepping. He knew there was still plenty of time to explore what this was, what it could be. His fingers brushed the fabric of his pocket, and with a careful, almost deliberate motion, he tucked the memory of her kiss inside, as if it were a treasure too precious to leave behind. It wasn’t a flippant gesture, but one full of meaning, something that suggested he wasn’t just letting the moment slip away. No, he was keeping it. Holding onto it, even in the most playful way, as if to say that this moment mattered—more than anything. He stood up straighter, a small grin tugging at his lips as he let the action sink in. There was no need to rush. He had time, and that kiss, now tucked safely in his back pocket, would be there whenever he needed it. A small, private thing between the two of them—his way of letting her know that what had just happened wasn’t something easily forgotten. It was a piece of them, and he intended to keep it close. "For now," he continued with a playful wink, "we'll take it one step at a time. We can meet up again soon, see where it goes. No rush. No expectations. Just a couple of people enjoying some good company, some good conversation, and… maybe some dancing." His gaze softened as he took her in, appreciating her all over again. "How does that sound?" Christian's hand extended toward Este, his fingers open in an inviting gesture, the simple action full of intent. "You can text me in the meantime, and I’ll send you my shifts so you’ll know when I’m working. That way, you can make sure I’m there when you stop by." His eyes twinkled with a mix of mischief and something a little deeper, the kind of hint that told her this was only the beginning. Christian's gaze drifted to his hat, still perched atop Este's head, and he gave a slow nod, his expression a mix of admiration and something deeper. There was something about the way she wore it—like she belonged in his world, a perfect fit. He knew that when people at the bar saw her in it, they'd recognize it too. It wasn’t just any hat—it was his, and now, in some way, it was hers. Christian lifted Este's hand to his mouth, his lips brushing softly against the back of it in a gesture that felt both tender and charged with quiet promise. He stepped back with a slow, deliberate grin, bowing head tilted towards toes. "Well, darlin', guess it’s time for this cowboy to ride off," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But I reckon this ain't goodbye—just a ‘til we meet again.”

este couldn't believe how well the blind date was going. christian wasn’t at all what she expected—he wasn’t the typical guy who used blind dates as a shortcut to something shallow. no, he seemed genuine, and that threw her for a loop in the best way possible. the chemistry between them was undeniable, a spark she didn’t expect but couldn’t help being drawn to. she wanted to know more about him, the real christian halloway, and that excitement was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. his question caught her off guard, her eyes going wide as he called her out. her cheeks flushed red, and she shook her head quickly. “no, no, no,” she stammered, her words tumbling out as she tried to explain. “was it weird?” she asked softly, her gaze flickering to his as a touch of panic set in. the last thing she wanted was to mess this up—not when it felt so special, so right. “i’d never ruin anyone’s experience,” she added, her voice earnest as she tried to reassure him. “i probably wouldn’t even drink, even if i joke about it,” she admitted, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “i don’t drink outside. i don’t want my students’ parents to see me and judge me for what i drink instead of what i teach.” it was something she’d been conscious of for a long time. parents could be harsh. “but if i did,” she added with a playful grin, “i’d be the drunk bad dancer, just so you know.” she laughed, the thought of seeing him dance more exciting than her own hypothetical antics. christian was making the entire night feel magical, from the little gestures to the way he looked at her. the hat, the charm—it all felt like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from. as she leaned in to kiss him again, she felt her heart skip a beat when he “pocketed” it like a precious treasure. it made her laugh, her smile warm as her eyes met his. “i don’t think i’ll be able to forget, either,” she said, her voice soft but full of conviction. when he placed his hat on her head again, she laughed, shaking her head lightly so it settled into place. “well,” she teased, “my uncles have a ranch in mexico, so this isn’t my first time wearing a hat.” she chuckled, her hand grazing the brim. “but thanks. i didn’t know looking like a cowgirl could be a real compliment until you said it.” her smile grew as she bit her lower lip, her nerves peeking through in the most endearing way. “this feels so natural with you,” she admitted, her voice tinged with awe and uncertainty. “but honestly? i’m so bad at this.” her laugh was soft, self-deprecating but sweet. “i don’t know what comes after getting to know each other and kissing and all.” she glanced up at him, her trust in him evident in her gaze. “you take the lead, cowboy,” she said, her smile playful but full of affection. “i’ll follow.”

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