#when it comes to trying to do anything else i always feel it looks SO amateur 😬

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You were trying your best to enjoy the countdown to the arrival of the baby, but your emotions were all over the place. Even on your birthday, you couldn't tell if you were excited or anxious. Bradley planned to surprise you with something special, but he got a different kind of surprise instead.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing, injury while pregnant

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Your parents' departure after Christmas left you antsy and anxious, and you knew Bradley could tell. All the talk about them potentially moving to California had you on edge, especially since everything was beginning to feel very real now. Your due date was creeping closer and closer, and you were starting to remember one solidly scary fact on an hourly basis now: neither you nor Bradley had any clue how to take care of a baby.

Your husband was so excited, it wasn't like you could feasibly bring up this topic of conversation. Every time you tried, he reminded you that he had watched dozens of Youtube videos. He told you that your parents were always just a call away. He assured you that if he was ever going to be successful at anything, it would be taking care of Rosie.

"I'm ready for the Nugget, Baby Girl," he told you as you got dressed to go out to the Hard Deck on New Year's Eve. He was already wearing the pink shirt you gave him for Christmas. The tiny matching one was tucked away in the closet in the nursery which brought a tear to your eye.

"I know you are," you sniffed, "but I'm still scared." You'd had a headache for the last few days, and food just hadn't sounded appealing to you. Your belly was getting enormous as your third trimester wore on, and everything was tender. "She'll be here so soon."

Bradley looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. "Eleven more weeks, but who's counting? Not me," he said, holding up his phone which had a 'Countdown to Rose' background on the screen. When you didn't even smile, he sighed and said, "I know you're nervous, Sweetheart. I get moments where I'm really nervous, too."

You pressed your lips together and tried to hold back the tears. You already knew how much he struggled with coming to terms with becoming a parent when he hadn't had either of his for such a long time. "The whole thing is going to hurt. And then we have to figure out what to do with an actual baby. Like this is going to be way different from nursing Tramp back to health. And I suddenly feel like I'm going to be terrible at this."

He had you in his arms immediately, and you were trying not to get your smeared makeup on his pink shirt. "It might hurt, but I'll be with you the whole time. And then I swear I'll take care of everything right afterwards so you don't have to. I'm planning on taking a few days off from work after Rosie gets here, and you can relax and be an amazing mom while I clean and take care of everything else."

You looked up at him as a tear slid down your cheek. "You're going to cook, Roo?" you asked, finally breaking into a smile.

His eyes went wide, and his lips parted wordlessly. You laughed at the worried look on his face even as you cried a little bit more. "Well, we can figure that part out. Or maybe you can freeze some dinners? I don't think I should be cooking."

"I agree," you hiccuped, wrapping your arms around him awkwardly with your belly in the way.

You were quiet for a bit before Bradley finally asked, "Would you rather stay home tonight?"

Of course you'd rather stay home. Nothing sounded as good as your bed these days. That was where he fucked you until you weren't horny anymore and then let you fall asleep in his arms while he read to you from the Nugget notebook. "No, I want to go out and see everyone," you told him, because you knew he wanted to go out. "We can sleep in tomorrow and do nothing."

He kissed the top of your head and murmured, "It'll be a relaxing week since we're going out for your birthday on Friday night."

"Are we?" you asked, suddenly feeling excited that he always remembered your day and made it special. "Where?"

"Hot sauce restaurant," he whispered. "And maybe a little something extra."

"A cake?" you gasped.

Bradley laughed as he wiped away your tears. "You want a cake? I'll get you a cake, Baby Girl. Anything you want."

-----------------------------

The Hard Deck was absolutely packed for New Year's Eve, and Bradley was getting worried that someone was going to bump into you. He tried to get you and your bottle of Gatorade tucked safely between his body and Nat's, but there were people shoving through the crowd in every direction.

"I've never seen it this crowded before," you said over the music. You'd just been talking to Jake about three feet away, but Bradley could only pay attention to anyone who looked drunk and unsteady on their feet while he sipped his own beer cautiously.

"Seriously," he replied. "Penny and Jimmy look panicked. That new bartender looks like she's going to cry."

You scanned the room, taking a small step away from him and Nat, and that's when you got bumped. "What the fuck, man?" Bradley shouted to some guy he'd never seen before when you stumbled back against him. "Watch where the fuck you're going."

"I'm fine, Roo," you assured him with your hand on his bicep, but Bradley glared daggers at him until he was out of your vicinity.

"You might be fine, but I want you to be safe and comfortable," he snarled, finally looking down at your pretty face as your straw rested on your lip. "I want you to feel as perfect as you look." Just then someone else bumped you into him, and his fingers curled into a fist.

You reached for his hand and shook it until his fingers uncurled and were laced with yours. "I want to tell you to stop, but you're seriously turning me on right now," you moaned, eyes glued to his face as your pupils grew wide. "Like a lot."

Bradley closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his body reacted to your words and the look you were giving him. His hand came to rest gently on your bump, stroking you through your shirt. You looked incredible right now, and you even tasted and smelled impossibly sweet to him. "It's way too early to leave," he rasped, glancing down your shirt as you took another sip of Gatorade. "But when we do, I promise you'll be well taken care of."

"Mmkay, Daddy," you replied, kissing his neck while Nat made an animated gagging face behind you.

"I was going to ask if either of you wanted to play darts with me, but not if you're going to start doing that all night," she said, but you were already bouncing with excitement. 

"I want to play!" you told her, shoving your drink into Bradley's free hand.

Nat grimaced but said, "Okay, fine. But only because you look happy, and the endorphins are probably good for the baby."

For the next forty-five minutes, Bradley acted as a human fence, trying to block anyone from jostling you while you and his best friends played darts. "You want to play, Roo?" you asked him at one point, holding up three darts in his direction.

"Who's going to guard you and Rosie if I play?" he asked, glaring at a woman who came tripping in your direction.

"She'll be fine," Nat told him, but he just shook his head and let you play. This was actually exhausting. He knew he'd be tired once the baby was born, but he hadn't been anticipating starting his protective duties this early. Soon he'd have his wife and his daughter to look after. Not that he minded. He was already living for it, but he didn't want to mess anything up. Your nerves were evident earlier as your hormones were constantly fluctuating, but he wasn't sure he had an excuse here.

"Are you listening?" you asked, patting his abs with the back of your hand. He could feel your engagement ring through his new shirt which made him smile unexpectedly. "It's almost midnight."

"Oh. Should we head home?" he asked, hoping he could get you out of here unscathed. The bar was getting a little wild now.

"Let's stay for the countdown and then head out. Get me a ginger ale?"

He grunted in response, looking for someone responsible to leave you with while he fought his way to the bar, but Bob was already gone on his deployment. Maria hadn't even come out tonight, and Cam was wasted. Bradley glanced at Jake and Cat who were looking quite cozy off in the corner, and he led you in that direction with his hands on your shoulders. "Stay with them," he told you, clearly interrupting the couple as you tried to dig your feet in.

"Hey, Angel," Jake said with a smirk. He had Cat's lipstick on his face and his arm around her waist, but he didn't seem too upset that Bradley dumped you there.

"Can you look after my wife while I get her something to drink? It's a little rough in here tonight. If anyone touches her, just punch them."

"I don't need a babysitter," you complained, but he kissed your forehead as Jake made room for you to stand against the wall.

"Yes, you do. I'll be right back."

Bradley fought his way up to the bar where everyone was reaching for the plastic champagne flutes that Jimmy was pouring. Penny saw him and immediately got him another beer, but he had to lean in and ask, "Can I get a ginger ale too, Pen?"

She shot him a little smile as she reached for the soda gun and a pint glass, and Bradley turned back to check on your current status. This time next year, you and he would be cozy at home with Rose, and there was nothing that could possibly make him want to be out for the night. A soft smile found his lips as he thought about coaxing his daughter to sleep and holding her against his chest while you and he watched New Year's Rockin' Eve on TV with Tramp on the area rug.

"Hey, handsome, you wanna buy me a drink?"

Bradley let his gaze shift down to the woman next to him, and he shook his head as she reached for his hand. "Absolutely not," he replied immediately, annoyed that someone was making his quest to get this drink and get back to you longer than it needed to be. He handed Penny ten dollars and grabbed your ginger ale before heading toward the back corner where you were waiting for him, safe and sound.

"Seriously, as soon as midnight hits, we're out of here, Sweetheart."

You sipped your soda and said, "Whatever you want."

-----------------------------

It turned out you and Bradley wanted the same thing. He had you both undressed by the time you got to your bedroom, and then the two of you stumbled into the bathroom, laughing between kisses. He tasted like beer, and his two day old stubble was rough, and you wanted him so badly you were aching for it. But he took the time to light two of the candles you left near the bathtub for when you wanted to take a relaxing bath, his hard cock bobbing as he walked. 

"I'm setting the mood," he whispered with a smile, the scars on his face intriguingly handsome in the candlelight.

"Bradley, I'm always in the mood at the moment," you reminded him. You could probably handle him four times a day right now if he could manage it.

"Just let me try to be romantic," he whined, pressing your butt against the edge of the vanity before spinning you around to face the mirror. "I want to romantically fuck the shit out of you."

Your giggles turned to moans as he guided himself deep into your pussy before stroking your clit with one sure fingertip and bracing his hand on the vanity next to yours. His abs were hard against your back, and his pelvic bones were sharp, digging into your rear end. He pulled out a few inches before thrusting deep once again with a delicious snap of his hips. His eyes looked impossibly dark reflecting in the mirror as he watched your breasts bounce as he repeated that same thrust once again.

"Look at you," he crooned softly, leaning in to kiss the shell of your ear as he fucked you a little faster. "Oh my god."

He dragged his big hand up from your clit to cup your belly softly, kissing along your neck as you already felt yourself pulsing around him. Those rough fingers soon found your nipple, and you gasped, "Bradley," which just seemed to egg him on.

He was sucking on your neck and murmuring sweetly incoherent nothings. "Baby Girl, these tits. Gonna love them. My fucking god. Massive."

Where you just saw stretch marks and oversized body parts, he saw something that made him go feral for you right now. Your boobs were so tender, but there was something about the way he was grabbing at you that made you just want more. His voice was deep as his teeth grazed your skin, fingers kneading into the side of your breast as you clenched around his cock which was once again shoved deep inside your pussy.

"Your nipples look fucking huge," he whined, his hips starting to stutter after each fluid movement. "Do you see this?" he asked, hand sliding up the valley between your breasts to grab your chin and aim your eyes upwards until you were studying yourself. Your lips were parted, and he was right, your breasts did look pretty incredible as the candle light flickered. And somehow your swollen belly looked almost cute as he slammed into you from behind and groaned your name. "I did this to you," he whispered, hand resting over your belly button. "But the rest of it is just how fucking sexy you are. I can't get enough."

When you met his wild gaze in the mirror, you let your head tip back to his shoulder, maintaining eye contact as you started to come. He held you tight to his body as his hips met your butt and his cock stroked you exactly how you needed him to. "Oh fuck," you gasped, legs starting to shake as you got closer.

"Good girl," he crooned next to your ear, his mustache prickling your skin as your eyes closed. He fucked you through your orgasm, voice mingling with yours, and before you know it, you were standing there panting while his cum dripped down your inner thighs.

You were a little dizzy, but he kept a firm hold on you as he kissed and tasted your neck, cheek and shoulder. His fingers were stroking your furled nipples, and your skin was on fire with pleasurable little aftershocks that you didn't want to stop. But you were so tired, you needed to get off your feet.

"Roo."

Maybe it was how you said it, or maybe it was the use of that pet name in general, but he seemed to know exactly what you needed with just that one word. He helped you to the toilet and cleaned up your legs while you used it. He brushed his teeth while you did yours, and then he waited for you to remove your contacts and wash your face before leading you to bed. When he climbed in next to you, he kissed your lips and let you get as comfortable as you could before whispering, "I love you both." You were asleep before he turned off his lamp.

----------------------------

Leading up to Friday, Bradley kept trying to sneak off to confirm the plans he made for your birthday. But when he tried to call the lounge in Del Mar first thing in the morning, nobody answered, and if he tried later in the day, there was always an interruption. And that interruption was usually you. On Thursday evening, he finally managed to sneak away to the garage where he planned on working out as soon as he made the phone call.

Once he verified that you were nowhere in sight or within earshot, he had his phone pressed to his ear. When someone answered, he quickly said, "Hi, this is Bradley Bradshaw. I just wanted to confirm my rental agreement for the rooftop space for tomorrow night. I have the hour-long private event planned."

"Yes, sir. The space and the DJ are all yours from nine to ten o'clock tomorrow night."

"Great," he replied, head still on a swivel even though he was pretty sure you were doing a load of laundry inside the house. That's when you came strolling into the garage with a snack in your hand, and he quickly ended the call after a muttered thank you. "Hey," he told you as he awkwardly tossed his phone onto the tool bench and picked up one of his dumbbells.

You stood there in one of his old, stretched out tee shirts and a pair of maternity shorts and chewed on an unsalted pretzel. "Who were you talking to?" you asked. He should have known he wasn't going to get away with you not noticing.

"Uh... nobody," he muttered, and you raised one eyebrow in response. He sighed. "I don't want to tell you, because it's a surprise for your birthday tomorrow, okay?"

You smiled and told him, "Okay, Roo. No worries." You bit into another pretzel, and Bradley realized how tired you looked.

"Did you finish eating dinner?"

"No," you replied softly. "I just want a few pretzels. I have like no appetite."

Your next appointment with Dr. Morris was coming up in a week, and he had been wondering if it was bad that you hadn't gained really any weight since before Christmas. Work had been very busy for you the past few days with the arrival of some sort of new scientific equipment that completely baffled him. You were exhausted after one round of sex now, which was definitely a change of pace from a month ago. He almost blushed when he thought about how the two of you spent your first wedding anniversary.

"I think you need to eat something with some substance or protein or something, Sweetheart."

"I can't," you snapped. "Everything else makes me feel awful. You should try being pregnant, Bradley. It kind of sucks."

He didn't know how to respond, because the last thing he wanted to do was piss you off the night before your birthday. "Okay. Well, will you let me know if I can get you anything?"

You nodded as you chewed up another pretzel before yawning. "I came out to watch you get all sweaty for a minute before I head to bed."

"In that case," he said, laying back on his bench, "let me get started, birthday girl."

You were smiling again as he unlocked his barbell and got to work.

----------------------------

You woke up on your birthday to the feel of Bradley's hand on your hip and his voice in your ear, slowly coaxing you from your dream. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart." You rolled over and were met with his brown eyes and his messy bed head, and he collected you in his arms. "It's my second favorite day of the year."

His body was warm, and the last thing you wanted to do was go to work today. "Pretty soon it will be your third favorite day of the year," you croaked. When his brow furrowed, you guided his hand to your belly and said, "Don't even try to tell me the Nugget's birthday won't surpass it."

Your husband shook his head. "It'll be a tie," he whispered, kissing your forehead as the baby thumped around. "Hey, Rosie is saying happy birthday, too!"

You moaned softly. "Rosie is hungry but doesn't seem to like any foods right now."

Bradley ran his fingers along your cheek before kissing that spot. "I'm hoping the hot sauce restaurant will hit the spot for you tonight. Plus I have a fun surprise for afterwards."

It was worth a try. Hot sauce was one of the only things that didn't sound disgusting to you at the moment. In fact, Bradley poured you a little bowl of your favorite kind for you to dip your granola bar into while he made some coffee, and you did feel a bit better. Your stomach gurgled as he plopped down onto the piano bench to play the birthday song and sing to you. 

As ridiculous as he looked sitting there in his boxer briefs with his hair still a mess, you knew you could never love someone the way you loved him. He was going to be such a good dad. He already built the playset and had the nursery almost ready. He had a countdown going on his phone. He picked out an outfit for the baby to wear home from the hospital. And he took care of you all the time.

"I love you, Roo," you promised, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing along the gray hairs at his temple. "I can't wait for dinner later."

As soon as you were dressed in your hideous maternity tent, Bradley drove both of you to work, and you found yourself stifling yawn after yawn. You were beginning to doubt that you could make it through work let alone a whole date night, but you didn't want to tell him that. Not when he was playing your favorite songs and holding your hand while he drove. Not when he had his arm draped over your shoulders as he walked you all the way up to your office and kissed you like his life depended on it.

"I love you," he murmured before dropping down to one knee to press a kiss to your bump. "Be extra nice to Mommy today, little Nugget." You could feel her squirm around as she seemed to recognize his voice. "She's got a busy day planned for her birthday."

Then he was back on his feet, zipping his flight suit up fully, and with one last kiss, he was heading toward the elevators.

After just an hour in the lab, it was evident that the granola bar and hot sauce had not been enough for breakfast. You desperately wanted to sneak back to your office and dig around in your snack reserve in your desk to take the edge off if you could. You were currently waging a war between being hungry and simultaneously appalled by food.

"Are you okay?" Cat asked, nudging your arm with her elbow as Bickel droned on about the equipment that was on loan from Lemoore's engineering department. He was hoping that in the next two months, you and the others would be able to help him build a more streamlined interface for the F/A-18s. It wasn't that you weren't interested, because you were. You just couldn't focus very well at the moment.

"I'm fine," you told Cat who gave you side eye but stood quietly next to you. It would have been beneficial to have taken your birthday off and spent it in bed, but it was too late for that.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Bickel finally stopped talking, but then he called your name. You met his gaze and realized he looked very excited.

"Yes, sir?" you asked him, taking a step forward. You felt awful. Even the sound of your boot squeaking on the floor set your teeth on edge. Your head had begun to pound at some point in the morning, and now it felt like your brain was attacking your skull.

"Come help me test it out," he said, his voice grating on your nerves in a way it never had before.

Your next step was a bit of a stumble, and you tried to reach for the edge of the counter. You were going to throw up. The urge to gag left you reeling, searching for something to hold onto. Cat was calling your name as Bickel's eyes went wide, but when you reached for him, your hand caught on the instrumentation instead. It hurt a lot, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as your knee connecting with the cabinet. You needed someone to reach you before you hit the floor, but you weren't that lucky. You wrapped your arm around your belly the best you could, but as soon as you hit the floor, you were met with blackness.

-----------------------------

Bradley didn't really need practice dogfighting, but it certainly was fun anyway. Especially when he was up against Jake late in the morning. The taunting was comical and getting more absurd by the minute.

"Hey, Hangman, why don't you hang it up, man. You're done," he said as he shot the other pilot down for the third time in a row.

"Lay an egg, birdman," came the response through his helmet that made him chuckle.

Bradley was just pulling up on his throttle to gain some altitude and go again when he heard Maverick's voice crackle through his helmet. 

"Wheels on the tarmac. Both of you. Rooster first, then Hangman." The tone of his voice left Bradley wondering what was going on. The weather was beautiful, and he was actually enjoying this exercise immensely. In a few hours, he'd be feeding you anything you wanted off the dinner menu at your favorite restaurant before indulging you in your very own, private silent disco.

But as soon as he touched down and started to taxi back toward the hangar, he saw Maverick and Nat running his way. Then he heard her voice through his helmet. "Open your canopy. You need to get out now. Your wife is in the emergency room."

A chill colder than ice shot through his body. Something was wrong with you or the baby, and he hadn't been there to help you. "What?" he gasped, saliva starting to pool at the back of his tongue, making it hard to swallow. "What happened?"

Nat didn't respond, but as soon as his jet came to a stop, she had his ladder ready for him. The rush of fresh air that hit him as his canopy opened did nothing to make him feel better as she shouted for him to climb down. Something happened to one of his girls. He hadn't been there. As soon as he was able to control his body, he climbed down as quickly as he could, skipping the last few rungs. When Nat reached for his hand, he could see the alarmed look in her eyes, and he started crying.

"What happened?" he asked again, but she just pulled her car keys from her pocket while she grasped his hand, and he ran with her to the parking garage.

--------------------------------

Omg, why am I doing this? I hope Nat can drive fast. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying. 

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him. 

he was… distant. 

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong. 

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door. 

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom. 

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion. 

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris. 

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around. 

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…” 

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face. 

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features. 

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp. 

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched. 

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn’t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways. 

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.” 

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire. 

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”  

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button. 

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs? 

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same. 

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was. 

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.” 

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance. 

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease. 

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in. 

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him. 

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared. 

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek. 

“c’mere…” 

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused. 

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

[lyrefromthesea]

Do you think you could maybe do the Hashiras with a dying reader? Not like dying in there arms but a reader who's so ill that they can't move and bed ridden, dying?

Remember to take care of yourself!!

Hashira x Reader - how sickening

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Shinobu x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: angst, fluff?

Tengen:

"i'm home" he said, still both his swords in hand. he had started immediately coming home after his missions, worried over your safety.

since the doctor told you to stay in bed, he had to help you more now. he didn't mind, he would give you acts of service as long as you live.

however, when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen, he dropped both his swords, rushing towards the room.

you stood in front of the counter, trying to chop vegetables. his eyes widened, knowing that you put a toll on your body. with a swift movement, his hand was on yours as he stood right behind you.

"darling, it's enough." he told you, gently taking the knife out of your hands. he almost felt bad when you looked at him with big deer eyes. "the doctor told you to rest."

"i know, but it doesn't sit right with me. i still feel like i can do things myself. i want to be helpful." you admitted, your head lowering.

"i know, but it's important to rest at times. let's bring you to bed, I can finish this." he answered, nodding at the vegetables. he put an arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the bedroom.

listening to your words, he knew you still wanted to feel helpful - strong, but he saw how weak your body truly was.

he knew that there was a slim chance of survival. he didn't want the time you still had decreasing because you were pushing yourself too much.

Obanai:

you were asleep again. it happened more often since he came visiting you every day. his eyes were looking you over, trying to find anything out of place.

you had more bandages on your arms, probably from all the shots you were receiving. your lips have turned more pale and dark circles were slowly growing under your eyes.

he had come up with a routine when you were asleep upon his arrival, checking your body first and then placing his head on your chest.

he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of your heart. the steady beat always managed to calm him down, but it has grown weaker over the past days.

he felt worry consuming the back of his mind, not noticing how your hand moved until it was placed on his head.

"Obanai.. you came to visit again." you mumbled, opening your eyes just a bit, everything else felt too exhausting.

"i promised." he answered, carefully pulling away. he knew it was stupid, but he was worried about putting too much weight on you.

"you can continue, i don't mind.." you tried to encourage him to continue, not wanting him to feel stressed. he declined your offer right away, much rather looking after you.

"i'm fine."

Rengoku:

his eyes were locked on your plate. the two of you have eaten lunch about half an hour ago. when he decided to do the dishes and found your nearly untouched plate, worry began to pool in his gut.

you hadn't eaten properly over the past few weeks, but it had been so much worse since last week. he put the plate down, not feeling like cleaning it right now.

his mind was elsewhere - with you - trying to figure out how to make you feel better.

he had already known what an untreatable disease could do to people. he had watched his mother be bedridden until the moment of her death.

and even though you've told him that you made peace with the fact you were going to die, he had at least wanted to make your days as bearable as possible.

he shook his head, trying to lock the negative thoughts out. times were hard, he needed to show you he was a reliable husband - that he still had hope.

he cleared his throat, trying to look more confident a he wandered to your room. perhaps he could convince you to eat a small treat.

Sanemi:

visiting the hospital was something Sanemi dreaded every day. he would've avoided ever seeing this place, but that meant he wouldn't be able to see you.

entering your room, he found himself swallowing down his sorrows. he did it for you, but it got harder for him with each passing day.

he stood next to your hospital bed, looking down at your face. you nearly looked like last time, but you've grown more pale.

he wondered if you could feel the change - feel anything. if he only knew that his daily visits were helping you grow healthy.

yet there was no indication of your well-being. you had been in a coma for three months now and the doctors didn't believe in your recovery anymore.

"i tried cooking your favourite, when you wake up again, i want to show you." he started, standing next to your bed. he didn't know what to do, so he decided to tell you about his day when he visited.

he knew it wasn't anything interesting, but he hoped you would hear something - anything. he hoped you would wake up and prove the doctors wrong.

Giyuu:

this wasn't fair. his sister. his friend. the people he fought to protect. and now you.

ever since you've grown sick, he has stayed by your side. he knew you couldn't move on your own so he did it for you. it was easy to carry you around, you've grown much lighter in his arms. it worried him, even the inexperienced eye could tell you weren't healthy.

"the sun will set soon." his quiet voice proclaimed, feeling your head move. he sat down on the engawa, keeping you in his arms.

"is this okay?" he asked, trying to ensure you weren't uncomfortable in his hold. he wanted you to feel at ease at all times.

"it's good, don't worry." you mumbled, placing your head against his chest. his hold on you grew tighter, he was glad you put your trust in him.

he swore to protect you, but protecting someone from a demon is different than this. he felt helpless, afraid of losing you.

he didn't know how many sunsets you would be able to see.

Gyomei:

when the first signs of your sickness started occuring and you wished to still indulge in the pleasures of life, he had supported you.

deep down he thought it would maybe make you feel better, treat what was untreatable.

however, it didn't change the number of times you were more tired than usual, passing out in the midst of a conversation or task.

"Gyomei..?" you awoke in your bed, hands slowly rubbing over your eyes. you didn't know why you were here, you had been walking through the meadow a few moments prior.

"your fever has returned." he informed you, placing a wet towel on your forehead. you shuddered at the feeling, sinking deeper into the blankets.

"i didn't notice, i'm sorry." he said, his voice having grown more quiet. he felt guilty, he should've noticed that you had grown more ill again.

"don't apologize. it's nothing we could've seen coming." you answered, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips.

he smiled, yet he couldn't unhear how weak your voice has gotten, how you had to exhaust yourself everytime you answered.

Shinobu:

"are you ready for your daily shot?" she asked you, wanting to make sure you're fine. you nodded, trying to force a smile on your face.

she glanced at your face for a short moment, then proceeded to take the syringe in her hand. you had been staying in the butterfly mansion for a while now, but you still didn't look any better.

the sting of the needle barely hurt and feeling the small amount of liquid entering your arm made a weird sensation spread throughout your body.

you wanted to tell Shinobu, but stopped when you saw her face. the smile she tried to keep up vanished every time she had to give you a shot.

you figured that he was worried about your state, not wanting it to worsen. naturally, you brought your hand on top of hers, her eyes meeting yours.

"it's going to be fine." you told her, a weak smile forming on your face. she smiled back. "i know."

she needed to leave a few moments later, telling you to rest some more. your emotional strength was admirable, but it wouldn't keep you safe this time.

how long would she be able to treat you until she gave up fighting a deadly disease?

Mitsuri:

"[name]!" Mitsuri cheered, rushing towards you after she entered your shared estate. it was the first thing she did since you had been bed-ridden.

"i brought you some sakura mochi! i thought sharing some would lift your mood!" she cheered, placing a huge plate of the sweet treat down next to you.

she smiled happily, though her face dropped when she saw your apologetic look. had she done something wrong again?

"thank you, Mitsuri, but i'm not supposed to eat sweets.." you reminded her. now she really lost her smile, looking at the plate and then back at you.

"i'm so sorry! i just wanted to cheer you up!" she whined, her hands immediately coming up to meet yours. she didn't do this will ill intentions, she had just wanted to make your day brighter.

"it's fine. i appreciate the gesture." you comforted her, gently squeezing her hands. at least that's what you tried, but your strength has drastically reduced, making the action barely noticable.

"sit down and tell me about your day. i've been worried about your mission." you said, watching her slowly sit down. she did as you asked, wanting to make you happy.

and as you two sat there, speaking for hours, she didn't notice how you had pushed the sakura mochi further to her - by the end of your conversation the plate was empty.

[genderkoolaid]

Hi. You always post a lot of info so I'm wondering if you might be able to help me. Is there a difference between radfems and TERFs? Are they both bad? If so, why are they bad? Are there any dog whistles to look out for when it comes to these groups? Please ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable. I've seen a lot of people pointing out that they're bad, but never really saying why. I want to make sure I follow intersectional feminism and not those groups.

Radical feminism is the name of a branch of feminism. It originally got its name because it advocated for extreme changes to society to address female oppression, but developed into a specific worldview which I (off the top of my head) would define by certain traits:

Oppositional sexism. Men and women (or "males" and "females") are fundamentally opposed. Oftentimes this is bioessentialist, arguing that this opposite comes from biology, but it may also be framed as a political necessity; a radfem might argue that gender and sex are fake BUT we need male vs female as political identities in order to identify our "allies" and "enemies". Regardless, males and females are physically distinct and political enemies. You can tell a man from a woman, either from their body or their behavior, the two categories cannot overlap, and no other gender/sex-labels are relevant.

Fatalistic perspectives on patriarchy. Not only are males and females opposed, but this cannot be changed. This may be bioessentialist (the opposition comes from something in our nature, which cannot change) or gender-essentialist (the opposition comes from socialization which occurs as a child due to outside pressure and/or internal gender identity, and cannot change.) Focus is not placed on an ideal future where men and women are equals and social partners. Instead, there is a sense that there is no way to truly have a society with men and women where males do not oppress females, or try to. Sometimes this is more implicit and other times you have people who explicitly believe in creating & enforcing female-only societies.

Misogyny as the source of all oppression, or at least the most important & the one people should identity themselves as before anything else. Those who call themselves intersectional generally only really care about other issues to the extent that they affect women in some way. Part of the downfall of the original radical feminists was the fact that the dominant groups were upper-class white women, who ignored racism and classism and silenced poor women & women of color, insisting that anti-racist and anti-classist action distracted from The Movement & that calling out other women's bigotry was anti-feminist.

A general suspicion of sexual desire and sex, often expressing itself as whorephobia (anti-sex work) and anti-kink attitudes, specifically under the argument that they are inherently misogynistic and abusive. Sex is associated with men and maleness, which again, are inherently the enemy. Sex WITH men, or with a person or object that could be construed as male, is especially bad.

The impetus to make your personal life As Feminist As Possible– "The personal is political." That isn't a bad slogan on its own (it's true), but with radical feminists it expresses itself as a high standard of Radfemmaxing. You should be celibate if you are attracted to men, or become a political lesbian, you shouldn't be masculine OR feminine (anti-butch & femme sentiment), you should reject makeup and shaving, you should cut off male relatives and even abort male fetuses– and you must identify with womanhood and femaleness, while rejecting any identity related to manhood and maleness. It's not just that you should examine your desires and choices and question why you feel the way you feel (again, this is a good thing). Radfems have the belief that they already know the correct answer to that Introspection, and if you come to any other conclusion than theirs (I like wearing makeup because it's fun, I want to be a man because it fits me), then it's taken as proof you are still brainwashed.

TERFS are trans-exclusive radfems. They believe that being trans is not real, or at least not healthy or an acceptable feminist stance. TERFs tend to use the language of "sex" and "males vs females." Many use the term "gender critical," meaning they see gender as fake and damaging, while sex is real and the proper platform for feminist analysis. I once saw a TERF define her stance as "it's not degrading because its feminine, its feminine because its degrading." They believe in things like autogynophilia and rapid onset gender dysphoria, and attribute transgender identity with sexual trauma, internalized homophobia and internalized misogyny.

TIRFs are trans inclusive. They believe that transgender feelings are natural and should be listened to and followed, and that feminism should take gender identity into account. However, they still have a "male vs female" worldview. They may argue that transgender men's internal gender feelings led them to internalize male socialization, while trans women internalized female socialization, meaning that all trans people's experiences with gender and misogyny align most with cis people who share their gender identity.

In both cases, anti-nonbinary exorsexism and intersexism are unavoidable. TERFs will label intersex people as "males/females with a disorder" and attribute nonbinary identity either to internalized misogyny (FTX) or to avoid being held accountable for male privilege (MTX). TIRFs similarly fail to acknowledge how someone's socialization can be affected by intersexism. MTX people are either trans women in denial or flamboyant cis men; FTX people are either trans men avoiding their privilege, or cis women avoiding their privilege*.

Not everyone who uses radical feminist arguments or shares the general perspective openly identified as radfem. There are many "cryptos" who purposefully obscure their political identity to spread radfem ideas in queer & feminist spaces. Other people adopt the general ideas of radical feminism without consciously identifying as one, because of cryptos and how pop feminism often adopts their flashier ideas. So it's important to understand these qualities as on a scale, with some versions being more subtle while others are explicit.

Radical feminism always reduces trans experiences (& experiences in general) to a simple, uncrossable binary, based either in gender or sex. Nuance and cros- or non-binary gender experiences are seen as anti-feminist and aligned with the patriarchy, if not part of a targeted plan to hurt feminist movements.

*the idea of "AFAB privilege" is. a thing in some people's analysis of transmisogyny.

[marvelstan0905]

Random Kenji Sato Boyfriend Headcanons:

TW : fluffy/slight angst/ idk what else lmao

"Small Gestures"

Kenji is the king of small gestures. This man be peeling your oranges. Feeding you. If you have your menstrual days, Kenji keeps a stack of pads, wet wipes, tampons and clean menstrual cups everywhere and in the car. Kenji is the type to keep notifications on when you have your days or when your ovulating [do with that information what you will😈]

"Communication"

We all know what happened in the movie. We all know that Kenji rarely cries and he holds in his feelings till eventually he kinda bursts. With you, yes you, the best partner, you'd kinda have to coax it out of him. Get him to tell you what's bothering or what's wrong. It would take a lot of patient and understanding. Kenji would really try is damndest to communicate despite his habits.

"Intimacy"

Kenji would be really patient and understanding when it comes to sex and intimacy. The man would praise and worship you all night. We all know this man would be the type to pin your hands above your head and make you look into his eyes. I definetly feel like a Kenji is a hard dom/brat tamer kinda guy. I can definetly see the daddy kink coming. He's definetly an equal giver and receiver. Man's is definetly kinky and I definetly feel like he'd very open to try anything, long as he's in control. And his aftercare is top tier. The hot bath and cuddles with loving affirmations.

"Love & Marriage"

Don't know why, Kenji gives off 'dating to marry' vibes. The man's been distant with everybody, keeping people away at an arm's leg but after finally finding that perfect person. Kenji is all the way. He's commited. Forever. As in you won't shake him off ,even if you try [you wont😑]. He's the most loyal sweetheart and baby ever. Hurting our man here is like killing a puppy. Don't do it. I feel like he'd dead deadass get a tattoo with your name and the date of your birthday. That's how commited he is.

"Chivalry"

I'm talking opening doors, sliding out chairs. Kenji will hold your hand when you go down the stairs and when you're sitting down just to make sure you're safe and make sure you sit nicely. If you wear a skirt and it's cold, he'll lay his jacket on your legs. If you're cold in general his jacket is yours. His arms are yours. He just wants to make sure you're warm and happy. God forbid, it rains. Kenji won't even allow you outside because he doesn't want you to get cold but if you were already outside. You'd have most of the umbrella.

"Clinginess & Attention"

Clingy. He'll never ever let you go. Once you're his, you're trapped and commited [a dream ,really😌] Kenji would always find some time of way to be touching you. Somehow. His pinkies linked with yours or you're feet are touching. He just needs the contact. He's a clingy, baby. He needs your attention and love. He's been deprived🥺 give him the attention he deserves.

-What do you guys think? I've decided to open up requests but they'll be open starting 26 June at 5PM [MT ] up until 28th June 1PM [MT].I don't want to be overwhelmed or swapped!I've been feeling a little burned out nowadays hehe so I need to recuperate! Speaking of requests, If I don't feel like I can do it or it's just something I'm not comfortable with ,I will delete your ask! I'm sorry! Thank you so much for the love and support!

Gif credit @soranatus

[l4long-winded]

carmy’s gf being a very good dirty talker and carm getting flustered and turned on ❤️‍🔥

okay, first off, i am terribly sorry this took so long for me to answer. i was staring at it for ages just trying to think of a scenario where i could implement it. i'm a perfectionist. i procrastinate and i whine about procrastinating and then i panic if i don't have the right setting. and then i remembered... this is for fan consumption, who gives a fuck?

this concept is special to me because, to me, carmen doesn't have a whole lot of experience. it's why i LOVE the sub!carmen agenda. he gets tongue-tied pretty easily when it comes to voicing his emotions and then considering his stutter growing up, it makes sense to me that he would become bashful in the bedroom setting. especially with someone who knows what they're doing.

walk with me, anon. we have much to discuss... (sorry in advance for the title; i got carried away)

o.s. holland cream filled

summary: carmen is trying to keep it together. your talented tongue does not have the same goal (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

warnings: the title, described anxiety, dirty talk (duh), inexperienced!carmy, pussydrunk!carmy, established relationship, no use of pronouns for reader, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, mentioned handjobs, gold chain mention, praise kink, carmy whimpers, subby!carmy, sort of switch!carmy at the end, implied edging, longwinded descriptions, carmy begs a little, kissing, cursing, carmen's pov, use of "babe" and "baby" (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,018

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

Every sinewy muscle twitches across his back whenever you get to this part, rippling underneath his skin as he pushes forward. He could easily lift his head up and away from where he’s currently got it nestled against your neck, but perhaps this is the masochistic side of him, the same one keeping him in the anxiety hellhole that is the kitchen. His sweaty curls graze your neck, near your jawline, his teeth and lips dragging over your throat. Every sound you make rumbles on him, vocal chords he tries to map out within. He likes to think he’s tasting your moans when he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive flesh. Your mouth is so fucking close to his ear right now, and it’s his own damn fault, the consequences of having you like this not unfamiliar. But this is the torture he anticipated and still dove headfirst into.

“You’re stretching me perfectly, Carmy.”

You always say shit like that. It throws off his rhythm, much like it always does, his equilibrium, clumsily attempting to fall back into it after collapsing all of his weight into you for a brief moment. It’s like you’re trying to make him falter on purpose with how you ramble. He doesn’t miss the hiss he ignites from you after accidentally sinking his cock all the way to the hilt from the misfire. His palms create divots in the mattress as he raises himself off you, his gold chain dangling near his chin. He hopes it tempts you enough to bite at it like you did a few nights ago. It would stop you from uttering anything else that’s going to shade his ears rosy and it’d snugly pull him back down chest to chest with you.

“That’s alright, look at me, watch my face,” you reassure him, taunting him without meaning to, directing his focus where he knows is going to both exacerbate and enhance this experience. As his hips continue to hump against you, somehow yanking the blankets and the mattress into handfuls resuming his pace from before, your lips part in ecstasy, desire swimming in your dilated pupils as you stare up at him. “ Good, fucking good, y-your c-cock is so thick,” you blurt, and Carmen’s breathing picks up. The oxygen is depleting quickly from his lungs, speed beginning to build and build.

“There, there, god, fuck me, Carmy, fuck,” you moan, and he maintains where he is. He’s so close, but he wants to ensure you’re feeling good right now, too.

Carmen’s intense blue eyes are latched on yours, his mind racing when you tell him to fuck you. He wants to respond, reply how he is fucking you, but he can’t find his voice. All he can do is grunt and nod his head obediently when you’re like this. As badly as he wants to match your dirty talk, he’s afraid of stuttering, of the vulnerability, of popping his load because every filthy sentence, every pant of his name, threatens to end it all too soon. If he even tries, says anything about your pussy, or your mouth, or your tits, how much he adores your pleasured sounds, that thing you do with your tongue, how you tighten around him and it’s impossible to not to drill his cock harder—

“You wanna cum?” You ask.

Yes, yes, yes, I wanna cum so fucking bad, please, please beg me for it, he thinks, but it doesn’t actually leave from between his lips. He swallows his own spit, instead, nodding his head violently as he breathes short and rapid exhales.

He’s confused when you don’t immediately respond to this thought. Of course, you’re not a mind reader. You’re observant, much like he is. He relies on this skill of yours sometimes because he’s never been good at talking. He seeks comfort in you. While your way with linguistics in this setting sends him reeling, he also needs it, he craves it. He only hates it because he can never last long with it implemented.

Yet, it is nice when you’re whispering your praises into his ear, sliding your spit slick hand up and down his cock, thighs spread over his open legs. You’ve helped him plenty of times during those heavy rushes or while you’re making out on his couch and he’s too tired to give you what you deserve. He likes it close and you know that. That ability of yours is tremendous for instantaneous relief.

You should know to deliver what he needs right at this moment. He’s hanging on by a thread, a thread, where is that stunning talent of yours when he needs it?

“Wanna cum? Wanna f-fill me up ‘til I’m leaking?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck you, what are you doing to him? He’s straining right now, forgetting to breathe as he glances at your features in disbelief, his arms shaking whenever you cup his face into your hands, thumbs occupying the dimples of his cheeks. His hips grind into you in an offbeat fashion, his voice close to whimpering at this point from how he’s holding himself off. Carmen weakly nods again this time, willing his orgasm away by closing his eyes. He can’t lose himself too much in the feeling. In the tantalizing image of his cum spilling out of you when he inevitably pulls out.

“Look at me,” you say, and Carmen’s eyes shut tighter before he pries them open. He really can’t look, but he also can’t stop himself from listening. You’ve got him wrapped up in a trance. He’s doing his best right now to continue, to hear you, to not give into the edge he wants to hurdle over. “You w-wanna cum for me, Carmy?”

It’s the third time now that you’ve asked. Normally, you’re forgiving. You see how frantic he is and you croak about how much you want him to shatter for you, how he deserves it, how he’s earned it. He doesn’t feel like he’s earned it right now, somehow keeping himself at bay, no matter how desperately he needs to release into your cunt. The more he looks at your expectant features, he realizes what it is that you’re waiting for.

He can’t do that. He doesn’t have the sheer willpower for it that you do. He shakes his head slightly, crimson painting his face and neck, a bit of embarrassment coating his perspired skin, recrimination of the damned knitting his eyebrows together. He doesn’t trust himself. The moment the syllables leave his mouth, he’s bound to be floundering around like an idiot, and the only thing in his head right now is how badly he needs to cum. He can’t ruin this moment, and he has a strong feeling that he will.

But those hands of yours stop him from denying it. Your pressure heightens just a touch, just enough to gain his attention back on your face. You level him with an earnest gaze, lashes batting, nose nuzzling up against his in unspoken affection. There’s no doubt in his head that you could continue to talk and help him out here, but you’re waiting on him patiently. He’s got you both of the brink of madness, and you’re withholding on purpose, softly kissing him while his hips fuck into you in a contrasting slick and clapping noise. He knows what you want. He sighs in frustration, resigning himself, because although he could give into the fire, it wouldn’t burn as good without your permission. He lives for how it tempers inside of him.

“Y-yes,” he manages. You’re too cute, the way your face lights up. You swaddle your plush bottom lip between your teeth, eyes flickering with hope and encouragement for him to continue on. Carmen has to inhale first, a gauche tickling traveling up his throat like a spider climbing up a tree, crawling along the lining of his esophagus.

“Yes,” he repeats, “I-... I w-wanna cum.”

Saying it out loud further solidifies it, eroding his self control bit by bit. It’s salient in how the vein in his neck protrudes, and he’s there, he’s about to lose it. He’s going to, feeling his pressure wean the deeper he digs. You’re taking a lot of time looking him over. He wonders if you’re getting off on how needy he is right now, extending this out, when he was good, did exactly what he knows you wanted without having to ask. He’s about to babble and stutter, he’s got it at the tip of his tongue. Your walls tighten suddenly and this time he does fucking whimper.

“... and?”

And? And what? Where are those gratifying admirations of yours for him? He’s done what you want, he’s certain of it, and his balls are heavy right now, thudding into the meat of your ass.

“Baby, please,” he gushes, but you don’t relent. Your walls tighten around him again. His cock twitches in apprehension, almost there, almost letting it go.

It hits him, then. He remembers what you said a while ago. He’s far too gone to think about what this is going to make him look like, his eyes widening with his epiphany. He starts to move faster again, a new flame lit under him.

“And f-fill you up,” he rasps, “f-fill you up, I… I need to f-fill y-you up with my c-cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck, uh, uh, uh.”

Carmen’s fears were correct. He’s a stuttering, whimpering mess, becoming more vocal as he recites your words and then some. He navigates his way back to earth when you kiss him, shutting him up from cursing. He smothers a few more fucks against your mouth, expecting you to let him have it. Only, you don’t. Your half-lidded gaze greets him when you depart, your voice holding tremors on it. You’re close yourself. He has no idea how you can do this to the two of you. Aren’t you as strung out right now as he is?

“Until?”

Carmen almost swallows his tongue with how quickly he inhales, that one word a knife into his abdomen. The muscles there contract and flex, cock throbbing, his fingers close to piercing the mattress. He holds out a little longer, his next exhale opening his mouth, tongue lolling out.

“‘Til… ‘til y’leaking.”

Triumph cascades over him seeing your pleasured grin. He’s unable to hold the dam back any longer when you nod your head. His body molds against yours, a cry leaving his lips whenever he buries himself. He pants against your neck, his arms engulfing you into them. He greedily plucks your body off the mattress, surrounded by him in every aspect. While in his embrace, the stream of his seed goes on and on, expansive pulses before each spurt. You’ve drenched him, arched into a pretty curve, thanked him while you found your own solace, and he thinks he might disappear into thin air from how light he feels.

He doesn’t. He remains sprawled on top of you, the weight of him crushing you from how he refuses to let you go. If you complained, he would roll off, but you don’t. You peck gentle kisses over his shoulder, featherlike.

“Did so good,” you mutter. “You’re perfect. All mine. Please me like no one could. So, so good for me. Such a good b—”

Carmen’s hand covers your mouth, shielding himself from further onslaught. He removes his head from your neck, still out of breath as he looks down at you. The knife through the hand of his tattoo sits sideways, your bright eyes blinking at him. He sees a mix of amusement, desire, mischief, and confusion all rolled up there.

Carmen leans down, kissing his own tattoo. The action might seem insignificant to anyone else, but when he feels your lips purse into his palm as if kissing him back, he knows it’s not insignificant at all.

“Sorry, babe,” he murmurs. He starts to move again. The sinful sound that vibrates against his palm is a muted symphony to him, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I wanna last longer this time.”

[i-luvsang]

lead the way, lover — jung wooyoung

pairing : wooyoung x gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, little bit of angst, comfort ➖⟢ cw : mentions of exhaustion and stress, eating+food mention, almost crying, little bit of kissing, poorly edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.3K ➖⟢ rating : pg-13

wooyoung is a lover, through and through. and he feels everything so, so strongly, his love for you especially. that’s why he’s fidgety and restless as his work day comes to an end; he’s practically desperate to get to you, probably still holed up in the corner of a campus library, digging through archives and textbooks as you prepare for your finals.

he’s got food for you in the fridge and he’s paying much more attention to thinking through the steps he’ll go through to get to you than whatever his manager is speaking about. first he’ll call a taxi on the way back to his apartment so that it’ll be ready after he’s grabbed the food. then he’ll try calling you on his way over to your school in the rare case that you pick up. he wants to double check where you are, just in case. then he’ll find you, probably at a run until he’s inside and no longer allowed to, and hug you tight like he knows you need. that’s when he’ll get you to eat, at least a little, and ask what the best thing he can do for you is. then he’ll do that and anything else you ask him.

wooyoung’s love for you makes his worry strong too, and he tries to hide it behind soft jokes and even softer kisses because he knows you don’t like for him to get anxious on your behalf. but he also knows that you need his worry, or more so, his care—the real stem of the worry—because you always melt into his hugs and your shoulders relax a little at his jokes. he tries not to worry too much, because he does everything in his power to help make your heart feel just a little lighter, your load a little easier to carry. you tell him that’s enough, and he holds onto that like it’s keeping him afloat.

you didn’t pick up the phone, so wooyoung heads to your normal spot in the library. even seeing just the back of your head makes him feel a little better as he approaches. he does his best to be gentle, as to not startle you out of your intense focus. he’s proud when it works; the noise of the plastic bag he’s holding is enough warning before he sets it beside you, and you look up at him without jumping a little like you sometimes do. he gives you the warmest, most blindingly bright smile as he swoops down to press a kiss to your lips, and he basks in the small upturn of your mouth when he moves away.

though secretly, his heart sinks a little. he thinks that you are always absolutely stunning, no matter what, but his heart clenches when he takes in just how exhausted you look. but that little bit of light that pops into your eyes at the sight of him is certainly enough to buoy his spirits.

“you brought food?” you ask, torn between tearing into the bag and staying focused on your studies.

“of course i brought food,” he smiles, sitting down and making the decision for you by taking the container out of the bag, opening it up, and handing you utensils. “eat up, baby. the better you feel, the more you can study!” he really wishes that you’d just rest for once, but he knows the best way to get you to put your textbook aside, if at least just for a bit. you take the utensils from his hands and let him push the food closer to you. the satisfaction that wooyoung feels seeing you eat is something so full and complete that it must only be possible because of just how much he loves you like no other.

he fills the air as you eat quietly, going on about his day and the silliest things that happened in practice. he reads you so fast and easy, knowing today’s a day where you can’t bear the silence, where the sound of his hushed voice is familiar and comforting in perfect contrast with the quiet you’ve been soaked in all day.

when you’re finished, you go to pull your textbook and notes back to you, but he lays a gentle hand on your arm. he’s been aching for this all night.

“can i hug you first?” he asks, all gentle and confident as he turns his chair towards you. you inhale sharply because all you want is his arms around you, but you’re wary that the utter comfort and warmth they provide might make you cry. and if you start crying he might pull you away from your studies completely, but you can’t afford that tonight.

wooyoung can practically see you overthinking it, and the tears are already there, shining in your eyes. he knows what you’re worried about, and he won’t let that stop him from giving you what you really need.

“it’s okay,” he chides gently, “just for a minute, then we’ll get back to studying. i promise.” you push away from the table just a bit, and with that simple invitation, he gathers you up in his arms with such tenderness and fervor all at once that you can’t do anything but melt into his embrace. he rubs your back as you bury your face into his neck.

“i got you,” he whispers when you sniffle. “deep breaths,” he instructs, smoothing his hand up and down your back in a slow rhythm for you to match your breathing to. “you’re gonna do just fine, baby. you’re gonna do amazing. you’re gonna kick these finals in the ass, i know you will. and whatever happens, it’s gonna be alright. i know you can do this, you’ve worked so hard.” his voice is so full of conviction that the words actually calm you down. they’re not some empty promise said just to make you feel better in the moment, no, he fully believes in each syllable he speaks and that is the real comfort. and it never hurts to hear someone else say out loud what you’re praying for. wooyoung loves the way it makes you relax further into his arms.

he lets you stay there as long as you want, but the second he can tell your mind is starting to drift back to your coursework—your shoulders tighten a bit and you start to fidget with the hem of his shirt—he voices his master plan for the night.

“i’ve got an idea,” he starts, waiting to go on until you nod, “how about we get you a treat on the way home, and i’ll read to you from the textbook while you eat it?” it’s too good to be true, so you pull away to look right at him, adoration swimming in your eyes that makes wooyoung fall deeper and deeper into what he thinks is true paradise.

all you can come up with to say is a sweet, whispered, “really?”

“really,” he nods, “you deserve it!” that’s another one of those lovely things he says that you know he really, truly means.

“you’ll find it boring,” you protest half-heartedly. he just smiles.

“you know i always want to know more about what you’re studying. you’re so cool and intelligent, i have to keep up somehow!” wooyoung just about swells in pride when that makes you smile.

“as if,” you scoff, “you’re the coolest, woo.”

“mm, is that so?” he teases, earning him a peck on the cheek.

“yes, it is,” you indulge, smiling because you’re just so grateful for his love and care. “you bring me food and offer to buy me treats and read boring textbooks to me. of course you’re cool.”

maybe another night he’d play at mock-offense, asking if that’s all you really think he’s good for, but tonight he thinks those things are too important to poke fun at. so he just shoots you another winning smile and grabs your hand, standing with you.

“i’ll buy you anything you want. just lead the way, lover.”

[gardenofnoah]

“Does it bother you?”

A blond head turns toward you in your peripheral. The next turn is a tilt slightly to the right, and it makes you smile. You’d never tell Katsuki, but he does have the mannerisms of a golden retriever.

Or maybe a well-trained doberman.

“That I can’t,” you pause, trying to find the most lighthearted term for the heaviest feeling in your heart. “Be touched. Right now.”

The ‘right now’ is unnecessary and dishonest, but your brain clings to temporary reasoning to make it feel better. You don’t know for whom.

He scoffs. It’s abrasive as he always is, and it dissipates a little of the tension you feel. You expect him to leave it at that, but he doesn’t.

“M’not—” he pauses, perhaps thinking of a kind way to say a hard thing, too. “I just want…to be here. With you.”

He goes red before he even finishes the sentence and it’s so unlike him that you bark out a laugh before you can stop it. The urge to put you in a headlock is so clear on his face but, ever mindful of your boundaries, he sticks to half heartedly nailing you in the face with the nearest pillow. He drags a palm down his own and pointedly looks away from you, eyes narrowing with each giggle that slips from you.

The meaning is not lost on you, though. Katsuki is not a man of many graceful words but you hear him anyway—I just need you here. I want nothing but you next to me.

It’s hard to remember that. Katsuki’s a good man, but he’s a man all the same, and sometimes your own fear of disappointing him—the fear that what you could offer with your body could not possibly be more meaningful than anything else you bring to the table—supersedes the safety you need to feel with him. How sad, that you’ve been so well programmed—how often you need the reassurance that you deserve to be treated with basic dignity, even when you have nothing to wager for it.

His vulnerability makes your heart swell in your chest. You reach across the bedspread—fingertips stopping just short of his, all you can do right now. You hope he understands, and you know that he does.

“I love you,” you tell him, needing him to know.

He hums, low in his throat. When his eyes meet yours, he’s open, for a moment. It’s hard for him, too—a different kind of vulnerability that he’s working on.

It takes only another moment for his shield to come back up, and then he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing out some half-hearted quip that he doesn’t mean.

You hear what he wants to say anyway.

[skzimagines]

Jealousy

“Who is she?” I say sternly. “Who is who?” He asks. “The girl you were making oggly eyes over at the party all night.” I throw my bag onto the counter as we make our way inside our shared apartment, just coming home from one of the parties Chan decided to throw. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asks, taking his jacket off, throwing it over the back of one of the bar stools. “Oh don’t act like you weren’t.” I make my way into our shared bedroom, sliding off the dress I wore tonight and throwing it into the hamper. Leaving me in nothing but my red lace panties. Minho follows behind. “You’re crazy to think I’d be starring at anyone other than you.” He states. “I saw you starring at her Minho, I’m not stupid.” I sit down at my vanity and start to take my makeup off. Minho stands behind me, arms crossed over his chest. “Well what about you and wooyoung?” He asks, venom stinging through his voice. “What about wooyoung?” My voice raises a bit higher this time, getting pissed at the fact he’s trying to change he subject now. “You two were all over each other when we got there!” Now he’s raising his voice. “All over each other? Minho, we hugged! It was a simple hug! And a quick hello! You on the other hand had no issue sitting right in front of me eye fucking another girl!” I yell. My face turning red from lack of oxygen. “He likes you y/n and you know it! You just refuse to fucking see it!” He yells back. “I don’t care if he does because I only have eyes for you! But apparently you have your eyes on me and someone else!” I stand up and make my way to our shared closet, grabbing a hoodie and sliding it over my head, then proceed to grab a pair of shorts and put them on as well. "I'm leaving." I state. "And where might you be going y/n? It's 2am." "I don't know, maybe I'll go to Wooyoung's." I say, I don't mean it though. It's within the heat of the moment. "Take that back..." Minho's voice changes, its deep and quiet, so much different than what it was before. Even after being together for two years, he still sometimes intimidates me. "Y/N.. take it back, I'm not joking." For a moment our eye contact is intense. I clear my throat before pulling myself together. "I'm leaving." I state, walking over to our dresser and grabbing the car keys, I turn around to leave the room and Minho is standing directly behind me. My face is to his chest, if I look at him again, I'll cave in. So I keep my head down. All I hear is the silent sound of his breathing before his hand runs down my arm and to the hand that the keys are in. He slowly pulls the keys from my hand and throws them onto the bed. "You're not leaving me... you're mine, do you understand?" He says in a hushed tone. He brings his hand to my chin and pulls up, making me look at him. And here I am... looking into those big brown eyes once again. "You were looking at another girl Min..." I whisper. "Honey... I was not looking at anyone, I would never do anything to lose you. And if you don't recall.. you were standing right next to this girl you think I was looking at." He states. My mind goes back to earlier, I was standing on the dance floor with a few of our friends and a girl next to me was gyrating all over everyone around us. When I looked up, I just so happened to have caught what I thought was my boyfriend watching the girl. "I was watching you, baby." He whispers, running his hands down my sides until he reached my waist, gracefully picking me up, spinning me around and setting me on our bed. "I'm always watching you..." He whispers, planting open mouthed kisses along my neck. I turn my head to the side to give him more room to work and wrap my arms around his shoulders, playing with the back of his hair. "I'm sorry.. I whisper. "Oh, darling. You have no reason to be sorry." His hands explore my body, before sliding underneath my shorts and cupping my heat. A sharp squeak leaves my lips at the feeling of his long fingers rubbing my sensitive bud. "You do have something you need to be punished for saying though..." He says with a smirk.

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart. 

[feinv]

can i kindly req for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader.... pov he is just so so so in live with her...

arthur morgan x hyperfem!reader.

a/n. introducing my other hyperfixation on this blog. hope this won’t flop. if you don’t wanna see this you can block these tags! hope you like this dolly <3

arthur morgan is a romantic.

spending the majority of his life being without a significant other, he kept repressing all those emotions. and repressing just made them stronger.

but lucky for him he has you!

he doesn’t understand why a sweet thing like you would even look at his direction. but you did. and he wasn’t a fool to let you go after that. he absolutely gives you princess treatment. will do like. literally anything just to see you smile.

arthur loves taking you to beautiful places he encountered while riding around. seeing your eyes sparkle and that pretty smile you flush him is enough for him to die a happy man right there next to you.

he is absolutely feral at how adorable you look. like all the time. we all know 1800s underwears were like just a plain white fabric. but you still managed to stitch them up in a certain way and add a few small bows to make them look cuter! he is honestly so amazed that nothing ever stops you from doing your girly things, and he is always there to tell you that you did a good job and it looks perfect <3

he loves showing you off, especially when he knows he has the pleasure of calling you his. he will do any dirty job and hard labor just to get money and buy you anything you want.

he knows it's hard feeling beautiful when you have limited resources in a camp. so he would buy you whatever clothes you want, whatever jewelry and accessories you look at for more than five seconds when he takes you to a town. (he might even steal some really expensive ones and tell you he traded for those)

of course he would think you look gorgeous even if your entire face was covered in dirt and mud. but it matters to him that you feel happy and confident in yourself. and it's his mission to fulfill that goal for as long as he alive.

every time he would bring back a little something that reminded him of you — a book, a small painting, perfumes that smell just like you, and everything else in between.

he would help you with chores however he can just to ease some of your work and have more alone time together. the boys would tease him for being "a housewife," but he wouldn't give a shit. he might as well do every single of your chores if it meant he would have you all to himself in the confines of his tent.

showers you in compliments. all day 24/7. he knows the words will eventually fail him because he physically cannot tell u how infatuated he is with you and how flawless you are to him. but he will try either way.

“you are the most beautiful person ever, darlin'. my pretty girl,” while his fingers gently tuck hair away from your face, his thumb soothing your soft skin. and you would blush and avert his gaze because like :< but he would simply pepper feather light kisses all over your face before connecting your lips in such a tender kiss you would forget that’s a 6 feet tall ripped cowboy.

his side bag and some of his clothes in general would have small hearts or bows engraved in them with pink thread. every time he looks at them he gets reminded there is someone waiting for him to come back. and his heart just swells at that thought.

would also sneak you away from the camp to a pretty field where the two of you could just stargaze together or lay on the grass for hours. you would ramble about your day while he sketches you, your sweet voice literally making him float in the clouds.

arthur morgan loves being around you, being with you. you don't even have to be doing anything together, he just loves having you near him, close and safe :3

©️feinv, 2024.

[lottiies]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[owlespresso]

dogged pursuit. mr dr sir veritas ratio. p4 of ? / part 1, part 2, part 3 summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags: mentioned violence but nothing huge

It was bound to happen at some point. You’d been hired because someone tried to put their hands on him, and it was assumed that they—or someone else silly enough to nurture a grudge against him, would try again. In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. 

“Is there nothing in that head of yours!? You could have been killed!” his voice cracks across the living room. He’s pacing back and forth in front of the chair where you’re splayed out, limbs hanging off the arm like a bendy willow’s branches.

“Awh, Doc, were you worried about me?” you drawled. You’re not sure what he’s talking about. There might be a few, smarting bruises on your ribs from the scuffle, but you’d done your job. 

There had been a yacht excursion earlier today—one he’d practically been forced to attend because someone important to his project was there. You’re not sure of the specifics of what happened yourself. They were rabble rousers dressed in IPC uniforms who sneaked aboard. The identities of the perpetrators will be sorted out by the folks in charge and handed to you later. All you know is that they’d been trying to put their hands on him. And now, some of them don’t have hands at all.

If anything, you’ve been worried that your display of excessive violence frightened him. He’s been clammed up the whole walk back. The kind of quiet that typically preludes a massive scolding—but this time was different. He hadn’t even looked at you. The  absence of that broiling glare worried you more than the glare itself ever has.

His mouth balls up, like he’s trying to keep the emotion off his face.

Though you often say you know he can take care of himself, that you know he’s a capable fighter himself—sometimes you really do forget. He moves fast, too fast for your weary eyes to track, and those big hands clap on either side of your face. He smushes your cheeks as he ducks into your space, leveling you with the meanest look you've ever seen.

“Of course I was worried! They were armed, you blithering idiot! With rudimentary weapons—but weapons nonetheless! What were you thinking, engaging them hand-to-hand!?” he seethes, and all you can do is stare at him, hapless and helpless as he continues. “When will you get it through your thick skull that I want you alive!?”

You sit up, resting your clenched hands on your thighs, spine ramrod straight as he chews you out. You’ve never had a wife, before, or a mother, but you imagine this is what it feels like to be scolded by either one. He stands above you, his arm crossed. There’s a visible tick to his brow, and a twitch to his eye that you haven’t seen since another IPC representative spilled a mojito all over his expensive silk shirt. 

“You… care about me,” you repeated, blinking slowly at him.

He huffs, looking thoroughly put out. “Did you think I wished you dead? I don't know where you got the impression that I'm such a heartless monster—but I do... care. About all forms of life. I don't think it's a very far reach to say that no one should be stabbed to death and left to bleed out. Especially while surrounded by such insufferable company. Knowing them, they would only complain about how the blood has stained their suits—"

The gears in your head churn, slow as molasses. Memories filter through your hazy headspace, watery and floating, like motes of dust in the afternoon sun. Veritas always having a cup of coffee ready for you in the morning. Veritas herding you off the couch and into the second bedroom, barking at you to get a good night’s sleep. Veritas. Veritas. Veritas.

“Doc,” you say, voice trembling. He leans in. His expression softens, his brows wrinkling with concern. “I think we have to get married.”

It’s almost comical, how quick his face flattens. His hands collapse back to his side as he turns away, heading towards the staircase in long, brisk strides. 

You cry out and fling yourself after him, fingers catching the tail ends of flowing, pearlescent robes. Pride be damned, you’re not letting him go after that admission—getting him to talk about his feelings is like prying teeth, unless it has anything to do with his mission statement. Something has shifted between the two of you, your dynamic changes irrevocably by his impassioned declaration. You want to see him make that face again—the one on the boat, when he’d watched you get hit in the gut. His eyes had gone real wide, face almost blank with surprise.

You want to see him make all sorts of faces. The days where all he shows you is that same, stony countenance far gone. 

“Wait, wait! I’ll be more careful, I promise!” you wail, clinging onto the ends of his robe.

“You—!” he fumes, pulling at the fabric. He shuffles around, his brows furrowed and lips pulled into a thin, straight line. He looks at you like that, real stern, for a few more seconds before the wind seems to wane from his sails. His shoulders slump. “Instead of a knife, it could have been a gun, or any projectile weapon that could have incapacitated you before you even reached them.” He says, combing his fingers through his hair. It’s already tousled from the wind out on the seas. He does this whenever he’s nervous, you realize, and wonder just how much there is of him to explore. “Get up. And get changed. There’s blood all over your sleeves. The leather’s already ruined.” He grouses. 

He bends over and his robes shift with the motion, providing you a glance at his other nipple, firm and rosy. Your mouth waters. Your brain feels like it’s about to melt out of your skull.

His hand wraps around your wrist, long fingers clutching you tight as he draws you to your feet. It’s almost completely unaided. Effortless. A look of the power packed within those flexing muscles. 

“Now go,” your awe-inspired reverie is cut short as he releases you. He snatches his hands back from your person and gives them a cursory look over. “This is a rental. I don’t want you staining the upholstery.”

“Psh. You just wanna see me out of this jacket, don’t ya?” you sneer, poking his calf with the tip of your boot. You oblige him anyways. The black leather crumples to the pale wooden floor in a heap. Your boots, at his insistence, are placed next to the door, right up against the wall. “That good enough? It’s pretty hot today. I could stand to lose a few more layers.” It’s not your intention to be this incorrigible. Old habits are hard to kick, especially when he always gives you such animated reactions.

He lifts his head, probably just to look down his nose at you. “Do as you please,” he says. He pauses, hesitating, before letting loose another great sigh. “But you have to sit down and rest. You may not be hurting now, but the adrenaline won’t last forever. So wash off and make yourself comfortable now, while you still can, before the pain sets in—”

He continues to rattle on. You half-listen, more than happy to bask in his attention while you watch his lips move.

[tenkobitch]

ʜᴏᴡ ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ᴍᴇɴ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀ

ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ

(Monstadt Ver.)

Genshin Men x Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of spiders/killing spiders

Genre: Fluff, crack fic

A/N: I thought about how different Genshin Impact characters would react to seeing a spider and I couldn't stop myself from writing this!

Also, sorry in advance, but I'm not gonna write for Mika. I don't know ANYTHING about him, and I don't feel like reading up on him just to make a small headcanon about him

Monstadt ver. Liyue ver. Inazuma ver. Sumeru ver.

Fontaine ver.

The Men of Genshin (individually) hear you scream in horror. When they run into the room, assuming you're in trouble, they see you huddled in a corner while shakily pointing at the other side of the room...

"THERE'S A SPIDER! KILL IT! KILL IT!"

With no other choice but to confront your source of terror, they...

𝙆𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙖

You might think that Kaeya was at least a little bit afraid of bugs like everyone else, but he's the Calvary Captain... He's had to camp out in the wilderness and deal with all sorts of critters. He's worried about bigger things than a tiny bug.

He walks up to where the spider is and bravely steps on it. He looks back at you with a teasing smile, trying to contain his laughter.

"Do you feel better now?" He asks you as you cross your arms in mock frustration.

"It was a really scary spider..."

Kaeya walks over to the corner you hid in and pats your head.

"I'm sure it was."

𝘿𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙘

Diluc was really busy with his work when he heard your scream. He didn't even bother letting one of his maids check on you because he was already sprinting to check on you. When he found you on the floor, pointing to the spider, he calmed down and tensed up at the same time. For one, he was relieved to see that you weren't in any actual danger... But he was also not prepared to kill a spider.

Despite his body's response, he pushed forward and stepped on the spider. He immediately went to your side to comfort you.

"Are you alright? You probably gave everyone in the mansion a fright." (Yes, he was the one in fright, but he's not gonna admit that).

You smiled, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It was as if you were comforting him.

"Thanks for checking on me."

"Of course." He gave a small smile back, and you both went back to your work.

𝘝𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪

Venti is either completely sober or absolutely drunk. THERE'S NO IN BETWEEN! So let's imagine two different scenarios...

Completely sober Venti will come to your rescue by getting a small piece of paper and a cup. He'd trap the spider in the cup and move the spider outside. Once he comes back inside, he'll squat down in front of you and bat his eyes at you teasingly. You'd pat his head and give him a grateful smile.

"Thanks for rescuing me..." He'd smile back and give you a cheeky smile of his own.

"I'll always come to your rescue!" He'd bat his eyes and look back at you with a finger on his chin.

"... But it'll cost you a smooch!"

But when you're dealing with an almost blackout drunk Venti... He's not rescuing anyone.

In fact, he's hiding behind you, pushing you to kill the spider.

"KILL IT WITH FIRE! IT'S GONNA EAT ME!" He's screaming his head off. You'll get so tired of it, you'll, somehow, temporarily get over your fears and kill the spider yourself. You look back at Venti as he's experiencing a full on meltdown, and you try to comfort him as best as you can.

"... Why did you kill that spider!? We could've kept it and named it Barbatos Jr.! Whyyyy!!!"

At this point, you were done with his behavior and decided to just let him be.

𝘼𝙡𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙤

He's on the case! He gently picks up the spider and cups it in his hands. He's not even afraid to touch the spider. He walks back in the room and nods in your direction.

"The spider will not be a problem anymore. I've let it free outside." He tries his best to give you a small smile to comfort you. Before you can get another word in, though, he's already headed back to his lab and he just... continues to work...

Before you lose all hope of hearing another word of comfort from him, he reappears in the room's doorway. He crouches in front of you and puts his hand on your head. He's not sure what else to do, but it seems to make you feel better, so he just stays like that for a bit.

"Please, do try to not scream next time. I thought you were hurt."

"I can't promise anything."

𝙍𝙖𝙯𝙤𝙧

He also believes in not hurting the spider, so he tries his best to get rid of the spider for you. He doesn't really understand why you're scared of it, but he doesn't have time to question it. If you're scared, he has to do something about it!

When he manages to get rid of it, he immediately comforts you.

"Are you okay? Did spider do something that scare you?" You shake your head in shame, which ends up making Razor confused. But he's learned not to question things like this, at least, not in the moment. He'll ask about it later.

For now, he'll give you a tight hug and hope that he can comfort you with his actions instead of his words.

𝘽𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙩

Normally, Bennett doesn't have luck killing spiders for you, but he tries his best. If he does manage to kill it, you are forever in his debt.

You only do this because he just spent the last ten minutes attempting to kill the spider, and you feared for your life while he was doing so. He turns to see your head peeping into the doorway with the bedroom door slightly closed. Were you trying to lock him in the room if he failed?!?

"Sorry I took so long, but I got the spider!" His smile drops slightly as he sees you slowly backing away into the hallway.

"You... You can come back in the room..." You come back into the room and give him a grateful hug, trying your best not to laugh at the pout on his face.

"Thank you for using a bit of your luck to kill the spider..." The smile he once had reappears on his face, and he hugs you back.

"I wish it was luck. I'd say it was more determination than that-"

"Just take the compliment!"

[artdcnaldson]

im so glad youre matching my freak on this (patricks sister au) because im actually so not normal about it. i havent thought about anything else all day, many more thoughts are in my head about this, i need art so badly

his restraint grows wearier every time you're on his bed in your slutty outfits making puppy eyes at him. its only gotten worse since he let it slip that he does want you, but just cant. it seems like youre in his room every day now. tiny shorts or even worse, tiny tennis skirts. the kind where he can see another one of many lacy pairs of panties every time you adjust yourself. he makes it a point to always sit at his desk, or even stand, he needs the distance.

one night hes dragging you back from a stupid frat party, one of those with a dress up theme thats really just an excuse to have the girls dress extra slutty, and oh boy did you deliver. youre not too drunk, but hes carrying you over his shoulder regardless, its just faster that way. (youre not complaining, you get to stare at his ass the whole way back to his dorm) and maybe youre acting more drunk than you are, just so he wont bring you to your own room, but he'll have to let you sleep in his.

then you're laying in his bed, surrounded by his scent, maybe even dressed in another one of his shirts and maybe just a pair of panties. watching him as he gets ready for bed (he always refuses to share the bed with you but sleeps on thr carpet on his floor instead), brushing his teeth, changing his shirt, complaining about some guy who was trying too hard to flirt with you, getting too close to you. its all too much, you really cant help it, maybe you can even blame the few shots of tequila your friends had made you take earlier that night, but your hand trails down under the sheets. you cant help but touch yourself, gently, barely even feeling it. but youre just so turned on by him, being this close to him, his possessiveness. whats a girl to do!!!!

he hears the little moan you let out, he tries so hard to ignore it. to control himself. truly hes not surprised. he keeps talking, pretending he didnt hear you. but when he turns around, its just too much. he cant help but tell you how pathetic youre being, he means for it to come out sterner, meaner, it was meant to deter you. instead he hears you moan again, so pathetic. it shouldnt egg him on, he should tell you to stop, to leave, to pull your hand out of your damn panties. he should tell you to quit being such a slut. why is it turning you on when he tells you youre being pathetic? why are you moaning louder when he says you can never have his cock? he cant help but taunt you :(((

(i can keep going, just ask lol)

GODDDDDD this au has me salivating so badly it’s crazy like this ask made me go take a lap, had to walk on my treadmill and clear my head. I feel so insane rn

Bc why IS he getting so weird and protective over you? Why is he mad that you were practically dry humping some loser from the fucking swim team that you looked like a fucking slut out there, and you should be embarrassed, honestly.

And god, he really does sound pissed about it, and you’re still pretty buzzed from the party, too, everything feels really slow and hazy and there’s an insistent throbbing need between your thighs. you’re so wet it’s soaking through the skimpy, slutty panties you were wearing.

“You should really fucking have some standards.”

Mhmm. Yeah. You should. He should totally keep telling you all about it. You sigh, slip your fingers between your thighs— all wet and sticky and sensitive. You moan, just barely, but he freezes a little. You can see the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he grips the edges of the sink. But then he’s right back to bitching at you.

“What the fuck did you think was gonna happen, huh? Did you think I’d go over there and rip you off of that dickhead? That I’d get so jealous I’d finally fuck you like you want?”

You moan, louder, and that’s when he turns. His jaw is set, clenched as he watches your hand move beneath the sheets. You’re completely unabashed as he watches you, he watches your legs spread slightly, can tell your fingers have gone from toying with your clit to being stuffed inside your pussy.

And he laughs. “God, this is really fucking pathetic, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod, whimper out a, “mhmm.” You’re looking at him through half-lidded eyes, all hazy and soft. And your hand is moving faster beneath the blankets, and god, he wants to move it so fucking badly. Wants to watch, to see how wet you are for him.

It would be so easy to just rip that blanket off— his fingers are fucking twitching with the need to. He almost does, almost loses himself in it.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking desperate,” he says, arms crossed, trying to ignore how fucking good you sound now that you’re not muffling your moans. “You think fucking yourself in my bed is going to change anything? It just makes you look like a slut. You know how embarrassed I’d be if you were my sister? You’re fucking lucky I don’t tell Patrick what you’re up to.”

You whine, pouting as you thrust your fingers deeper inside your cunt. You’re so close already, just want to cum, want him to rip off the blankets and fuck you into the mattress. “Please,” you whine.

“Please? You think I’m going to fuck up my friendship with Patrick for pussy?” He’s being so mean, you’re fucking dripping down your wrist with how soaked you are. “I’m never going to fuck you. You just need to grow up and fucking accept it.”

You cum as he watches you, thighs trembling and closing around your hand. Fingers all slick and sticky when you finally slip them from your cunt. He’s staring at you, completely indiscernible. And he laughs again. Whatever. You can go ten more rounds if he just keeps talking to you.

[martyfive]

i didn’t know what the legend of zelda was when breath of the wild came out. i was probably in a middle of something very important at the moment, alright? something like sitting on a subway train on my way home. or like being in a middle of another family scandal. or failing another attempt of becoming someone i never wanted to be. busy stuff. i never even heard of the name zelda unless we were talking about zelda fitzgerald. i was nineteen and i wasn’t fucking around.

moreover, i didn’t know what zelda was about even when i bought breath of the wild itself.

what i always knew for sure is that i had never been and never would be a princess. every time i was told during our family dinners that those like me were never meant to be married to a handsome rich prince to live happily ever after, i was trying to find comfort in the vocally unannounced title of a friendly local knight in the shining armour bestowed upon me. the one who was there to shine and save and protect those in need. the one who wasn’t supposed to care about their appearances, being securely hidden behind a chain mail and metal shell that still never saved from bruises. a knight with a bear trap instead of a helmet. born to be the best and somehow failing every day. almost like a dream come true. not my own dream, but a dream nonetheless.

the life in our kingdom was a total disaster and i was a wreck of a knight.

by the time i escaped i had been depressed for approximately twelve years. i left everything i knew behind and moved to another country. i actually married my prince to make the paperwork easier for both of us. i found myself roaming in the wilderness i knew nothing about. i tried to take the bear trap off but every time i attempted to free myself from it it was hard to breathe through the neck that was losing its familiar balance. i didn’t know how to be an adult. i didn’t even know how to be a child. i wanted to learn, but i didn’t know where to start.

“what do you want for your birthday?” my prince asked me.

i didn’t feel like i deserved gifts. i did not achieve anything to receive them. the knight was technically laid off duty and the salary once paid in clothes and food was still haunting me. and i needed something else. we also needed something else to bond over except for our childhood bruises.

so i received nintendo switch for my birthday in a year i almost broke my neck trying to forcefully remove my fancy helmet as soon as i realised i couldn’t walk around like this anymore.

“games could be a part of a therapy,” the lady that was helping me with my breathing exercises said while i was pouring my blood trauma on the carpet in her office, “but they’re not gonna remove this bear trap of yours, you know?”

i knew that. i also knew i didn’t really want to live, trapped or not. so it made sense to me to start living my new life from the very beginning — to start from trying to be a child i barely ever was — and to try and learn how to be an adult like most healthy children did. meaning, to give myself time. to make choices i was robbed of. mistakes too, if necessary. to take a breath before heading off to run a marathon i never foresaw.

so yeah, i didn’t really know what the legend of zelda was when i bought breath of the wild. i only knew zelda was a princess i had never been and never would be. what i knew for sure is that the main character named link was supposed to save her.

and that he was her knight.

the whole thing sounded like a sick joke, but i was determined to know what the fuss was all about. looking back a couple years later, i’ve been wondering how it was even possible for me to stumble upon this exact game when i needed it that much.

while on my journey across the kingdom i wasn’t familiar with, with my own land shaded by the war and destruction, with no recollection of who i was and who i was to become, with a trapped in a castle tired princess named zelda, with the only light shining on the horizon gloomed by the darkness, i felt bad for link. what did he ever do to deserve all of this? i thought. why is this his burden to carry? is this normal for a character to stay silent before the impossible challenge he was supposedly destined to face and just… move forward no matter what?

i didn’t even know at the time how the zelda universe worked. that the event of link saving the world was something that threaded through the kingdom’s history like a football cup everyone was expecting to inconsistently happen once in a while. there was only this link and his own crazy challenges for me, and his destiny felt like a weight on the neck i, personally, being a broken knight i was at the time, wouldn’t be able to drag to the end.

but i had to.

i ran through the green fields from one destroyed town to the other and thought of link’s footsteps echoing in me as if every abandoned ruin was a part of my own depression i was supposed to face. every location had a name and each felt like it was important for someone who lived here a hundred years ago before the war took everything from them. the names meant nothing neither for me, nor for link and his amnesia, but for someone who wasn’t there anymore it was everything. and i had to accept it. there still was something to save. i had to look the destruction and what was left of the kingdom in the eyes and find a way to save what i can so the future would have a solid foundation they could build upon.

zelda couldn’t have saved the kingdom by herself. she had been trapped in that castle for a hundred years and she needed help of her knight. the task no single person deserved to condemn their soul with. i had no particular feelings about zelda herself, but it was a kingdom worth saving and there was only one knight that could do that. somehow, it had to be me.

so i visited every corner of the land and found everything there was to uncover, talked to everyone i could, solved everything there was to think of and turned up all the stones to find all the koroks. i just had to.

a couple months later i defeated the calamity and finally saved zelda. i took a breath and i let it out. and after that i felt better and empty once again. but it was something else this time.

it was the foundation. it was bare, but at least it was there.

i came a long way since finishing breath of the wild. i learned a new language. i grew up. i gave up my antidepressants to try and live without them. we moved from one city to the other. i got a dog that made me go outside and laugh every day. i started to make money. i started eating healthier. i started talking to people more. i took the responsibility. one by one, i pried the screws of the bear trap on my neck. it was still there, but it became easier for me to breathe. i realised that the kingdom i was raised in was never meant to be the only thing to define me. i was building my own on the ruins of what withstood. there was no other way to survive. and i just had to.

waking up as link once again years later and looking out to see the skies of tears of the kingdom, i cried. i felt like i met an old friend that was once everything to me and who i lost contact with for years, and then finally hugged them again. it was like finding myself a couple years later from where i was left dealing with my own shit and realising that my journey was worth it.

the ruins were still there, you see? but now we had so much else! there was another civilisation hidden in the clouds in the sky! and the whole another biome underground! giant temples to get confused about while looking at the map! there were new people to meet! new cataclysms to endure! new puzzles to solve! new koroks to find! damn, what a mess. i couldn’t wait to be a part of it!

and, of course, there was zelda to be saved.

zelda, who spent thousands of years in a form of a dragon waiting for her knight to take the previously shattered master sword she healed and to kill ganondorf. zelda, who was supposed to forget everything that made her human, but still was fighting for the light in the end. zelda, who was robbed of her life by the choice she made to protect those she loved, and who was blessed with another chance in the end. even a thousand years curse was finite. somehow, i found myself in love a princess i was never meant to become.

and it felt right.

and when link caught zelda falling from the sky over hyrule, i realised that the kingdom i was building with my own hands would always be there. and it was only my destiny to get to the rotten roots hidden underground in the darkness where no life was meant to exist but was flourishing in it’s own way instead, and to remove the sickness from it. to heal and to be healed.

and then i took my bear trap helmet off and smouldered it into a crown.

maybe i was never meant to be a princess. but in the kingdom that i built on my own, with all of its countless layers and clouds in the sky, with its ruins and old stones, with its depths and lurking horrors, with its riddles and joy, traps and secrets, songs and laughter, disasters and questions, dragons and princesses, with all the troubles and their resolutions…

there, i was only meant to be the king.

20/6/2024