#I’m just so angry and can’t stop crying but there’s not a single person in my life I can talk to about this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kxsalt · 17 days

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An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

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intrepidacious · 1 year

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almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

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natalievoncatte · 15 days

Text

Kara knew something was wrong from Lena’s heartbeat. That alone, the barely detectable change in rhythm and tempo, was enough, but her breathing was erratic and as Kara drew nearer, drifting through the afternoon air, she could hear the soft sobs.

A bad feeling had come over Kara. Things had been quiet between the two of them ever since the wedding; there had been a strange tension between them on that happy day and Kara couldn’t say why

(she knew what she wanted it to be but didn’t dare hope)

and with Alex and Kelly away on their honeymoon, Kara had mostly been on her own. Nia was spending most of her free time with Brainy and Kara sensed a proposal coming, and she was busy preparing for her public interview with Cat Grant. She was going to rip the bandages off and reveal her identity. There was a great deal of work involved, and Kara had spent a lot of time fretting over the details, and in the back of her head she was worried about the ramifications of years spent reporting on Supergirl and using “her” as a source. It was a massive ethical dilemma, and thought it always made sense at the time…

Right now all that mattered was the heartbeat. Kara had been giving Lena the space she sensed she needed, but Jess had called Kara from the Foundation and told her that Lena hadn’t come to work in three days, and no one had heard from her. It was uncharacteristic of someone who ran her life with almost military precision. Kara had even asked Alex to text Lena, but they’d gotten the same single word replies.

Kara pulled in a big breath, feeling her stomach churn as she lighted on the balcony and slid open the door, knowing it would be unlocked. She wished Lena would stop doing that, but also felt a little tilt in her chest from knowing Lena hadn’t locked her out.

She was on the sofa, curled up on her side and asleep. She’d probably had the same pajamas on for two days and there were empty bottles of wine in a neat row on the table in front of her. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her cheeks a little raw. Kara felt an instant pang and reached for her, before stopping to deactivate her suit.

Kneeling next to the sofa, Kara touched her fingers to Lena’s shoulders. Lena woke instantly with a start, head jolting up as she sucked in a reedy breath and her heart raced explosively, sending a shock of terror up Kara’s spine.

“Oh fuck,” Lena blurted, kicking out her legs as she bolted upright. “Oh God, Kara what…”

“Hey,” Kara said softly. “I was… I’m sorry. Are you okay? I came in through the balcony. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lena’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath, staring at Kara with watery eyes. “Are you real?”

“What? Yes, of course I’m real.”

“I must have been dreaming. It was a dream. Just a dream. I was dreaming,” Lena muttered.

Kara rose from her knees and sat down on the couch.

“Come here.”

Lena almost crashed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around Kara and squeezing hard. She smoothed her fingers over the soft dark waves of Lena’s hair and pulled her in as she began to sob into Kara’s shoulder.

“I dreamed he killed you,” Lena choked out. “He came back again and he killed you and I couldn’t stop it. It felt so real.”

“I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Lena continued to sob, her entire body shaking with the force of it. Kara wrapped her in a fierce hug, trembling as she did.

“Every time I close my eyes he’s there, and when I’m awake all I can think about is that I killed my brother.”

“That didn’t happen in this timeline.”

Lena choked out an angry, frustrated sob. “It happened for me. I aimed a gun at my own brother’s chest and I pulled the trigger. And he came back! He came back and he almost killed you two or three fucking times, I can’t count.”

“He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t just say that!” Lena screamed into Kara’s throat.

Stunned, Kara softened her grip on Lena, only for Lena to pull her in harder, like she was trying to climb inside her.

“Why can’t I stop mourning him? He ruined my life. He was the person I trusted most and he turned out to be a monster. He used me my whole life and my emotions were just a game to him. He tried to to kill the woman I… tortured you, took you away for months and I thought I’d never see you again. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was and how much…”

Lena cut herself off with a sob.

“I know it’s not the same,” Kara murmured, “but when I was a little girl I worshipped my father. I wanted to grow up like him and do what he did. I was going to be a scientist too.”

“You’d have been a good one.”

Kara shook her head. “My father was responsible for the Medusa virus. A bioweapon designed to eradicate non-Kryptonian life. A weapon of genocide.”

Lena shuddered.

Kara swallowed, hard.

“My world wasn’t a paradise. It felt that way because it was simple for me. There wasn’t all the pain of learning alien ways and an alien language and controlling superpowers and everything else. My father taught and protected me and my mom maintained order. But it was wasn’t a paradise. My people were… Krypton was… I think in a lot of worlds out there, we were the bad guys. Okay, the Daxamites were slavers, but on Krypton people were born into the labor guild and did menial jobs their whole lives, while people like me were born into privilege. Is that much better?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t judge you for mourning Lex, Lena. He was your protector and your friend, and it was real to you. If there’s anything I hate him for, it’s hurting you.” Kara swallowed. “The one thing I can’t abide is anyone hurting you. I’ll break all my rules to keep you safe.”

Lena’s breathing eased and Kara could feel her relax.

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I figured you needed space. I wasn’t sure why but I trusted you to tell me if you need to.”

There was a long, heavy pause, and then Lena said.

“Kara, I can’t do this. I can’t share you.”

“Share me?”

“When you reveal your identity,” Lena pulled back, “you’re going to be the most famous person in the word. Everyone is going to be all over you. The press, politicians, everybody, and everyone who has a grudge against you or your cousin is going to know exactly where to find you, all the time.”

“I’ll keep you safe, no one will…”

“I didn’t say anything about me. You, Kara. What about you?”

“I’m Supergirl. I’ll be fine.”

“And what about me?” said Lena.

“I told you…”

“No. What about me when I have to watch you getting beaten to a pulp by another alien? What about me when you’re in a coma on the sun bed? What about me when I see on the news that a bomb went off in your apartment and I have to wonder if it was laced with Kryptonite shrapnel? I’m not worried about people coming after me. I’m a billionaire with magic powers. I could put on a goofy costume and join the club if I wanted. I’ve already lost you so many times and I can’t do it again.”

Stunned, Kara sat with her eyes wide, not sure when exactly she’d lifted Lena into her lap.

“It’s so selfish of me,” Lena went on. “You don’t belong to me. I don’t get to make demands of you. But don’t want you to out yourself. I don’t want to lose you again. As soon as you do this you’re going to be hounded by the whole world and they’ll claw you away from me again.”

Kara’s own heart raced now, hammering in her chest. Lena sounded so desperate and so sure, clinging to a Kara like she might disappear.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s your choice and I have to respect it. It’s okay,” she was clearly telling herself.

“No,” Kara choked out, “no it’s not. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“No. I have been. I can’t believe I said what I said to you at the wedding, about not being my authentic self. To you, of all people.”

Lena swallowed hard. Kara drew back and looked at her, really looked at her, drinking in the soft beauty of her eyes as she swept back a tear with a brush of her thumb. Lena’s eyes were huge, her lips trembling, and Kara felt an almost painful pang of sorrow and regret and a powerful stirring, long thrust down and buried and now clawing its way forth as Lena stared back, the deep sadness and loss in her own eyes tinged by a hint of forlorn hope.

“I can’t believe that I can see through walls and I’m so blind.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

“I’m calling it off. I’ll keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to do that just to please me.”

“I don’t need them. I need you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Lena’s heart raced so fast that Kara briefly thought she might have to fly her to the hospital. Instinctively, she slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and stood, lifting Lena as if she weighed nothing.

Eyes wide, Lena bit her lip.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean when you say you’re mine? I need you to say it, Kara. I was too scared at the wedding. I can’t do this. I need you to.”

Oh.

Kara shifted her Lena’s weight in her arms, bring them closer together. She’d danced this dance before; she thought of the day she came back from the Phantom Zone, when she held Lena in her arms and felt the sun again and she almost did it, she almost just fucking did it…

And she did it.

She kissed Lena, already ready to sputter an apology and find a way out of this, but her words were lost when Lena’s soft lips met hers and Lena was ready to devour her, happily rocketing past chaste first kiss as she grabbed Kara with both hands and pulled her in.

Kara’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know what to do. She’d been kissed, she thought she’d been intimate, but she could see now that those things had been mere stimulation and nothing more. Something soared inside her as she had soared in the sky the very first time she flew. Joy unbridled swelled in her chest and she could feel Lena laughing exultantly into her mouth and even as tears mingled on her cheeks.

She wanted this. She wanted this. It was right here all along.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I…”

“Should I put you down?”

“On the bed.”

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cinnamonest · 3 months

Note

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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damiansgoodgirll · 10 months

Text

kylian mbappè x reader

tw: angst, a little bit of postpartum depression

5 years (part two)

giving birth to your baby without having kylian in the room with you was the hardest part. you always imagined having the love of your life by your side, comforting you and encouraging you. the person that was supposed to be your everything.

you knew that after all he was the father of your child but a little part of you knew that he didn’t deserve it. so you did without him. you had all the support you needed but not his.

and it was okay. you were still healing.

but the worst part was being a single mom. taking care of a newborn all alone and having no experience was hard, it was killing you. of course kylian saw the baby, but with football and away matches he couldn’t take care of your kid 24 hours the way you were doing.

the restless nights.

your kid crying from day to night and from night to day.

your whole body was in pain.

your feet so swollen you only wore slippers.

and your breast, it was killing you. it was always so full and swollen to the point the pain because too much and you couldn’t do nothing to prevent it.

kylian apologised so many times you’ve lost count. he prayed, no, he begged for you to take him back. and even tho you missed him, you couldn’t forgive what he did.

like - how can someone forgive cheating? you couldn’t find a straight answer to that. even if it’s been four months now, you couldn’t find the strength to forgive and forget something like that. i

while you were lost in your thoughts you heard a faint knock on the door. you knew it was him. it was kylian’s day off and of course he wanted to spend it with your baby. you came to an agreement that you would do co-parenting. your lawyer proposed it and you couldn’t say no, it was kylian’s child too after all.

you opened the door and let him. your child was currently sleeping so you didn’t want to wake them up yet and kylian noticed that too because he stopped you before you could go to their bedroom.

“one second y/n…” he said and you turned to look at him “can we - can we talk for a second?”

“is it really necessary?” you asked. it wasn’t like you were on great terms, nope. you still hated to see his face but you were doing everything in your power to give a good life to your baby, including having two parents who didn’t fight every single day. you didn’t want this toxicity in your family.

“yes please…i promise you, i’ll be quick i just - i just need to talk to you, at least for a minute, without having your lawyers or the kid crying in the background…” he said.

you nodded and let him sit on the couch while you sat on your armchair.

“are you okay?” he asked you.

“yes why?”

“y/n, please don’t lie…i know you and i know that look, you’re not okay, you’re far from okay” he said and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“what? i’m okay kylian, what is that supposed to mean?” you grew difensive.

“i’m not trying to attack you or make you angry, i just wanna know if you’re okay, i know doing this alone it’s hard and i want you to know that i’m here if you need me…you look tired, even a blind person would be able to see it…” he began to talk but you stopped him.

“i’m okay kylian, stop it…”

“but i know you’re not! i know you…i know the baby is tiring you and-…”

“yes, the baby is tiring me out like hell, okay? are you happy with this?” you whispered-screamed.

“then why don��t you let me help you? please…”

“i don’t want or need your help kylian!” you grew tired of this and couldn’t wait to have kylian out of your apartment.

“but the baby needs you and you can’t take care of them if you’re not taking care of yourself…” he said, probably rephrasing bad what he wanted to say.

“i can’t take care of my child?” you stood up “kylian, you have no fucking idea what i’ve been sacrificing these past months. my mental health is gone, i don’t know if what i’m doing is wrong or right and i’m doing this all alone! the least you do is staying with the baby a few hours a week because your too busy with football and your career so don’t you ever tell me again how parenting works okay?” you needed to let it all out and kylian was there to listen to you “i fucking hate the moments you took the baby away from me because i feel so alone but at the same time i love it because the whole house is calm and peaceful…and the house - the house is always a mess, i’m trying my best, i’m fucking trying but it’s hard…” you sobbed a little.

“let it all out…” he said wrapping his arms around you. you needed a hug so bad that for a moment you forgot that you were mad at him.

“i hate the way my body changed…i see myself in the mirror and i can’t recognise that person, it’s a whole new me and i hate her! everything hurts, my body, my breast, hell even my feet! i need to sleep more that three hours a night but i can’t…i just, i’m not okay but i’m pretending i am because someone needs to stay strong for our baby…” you said wiping your tears.

kylian gave you a sad smile. he wanted to keep holding you but you immediately moved away. he wanted to be the one who wiped your tears away but you wouldn’t let him touch you.

“listen to me y/n…you’re a great mom, you’re a beautiful person, in and out…you just need a little rest…you’re just human after all” he said and you gave a sarcastic smile “i have a four days break from practice and football, no matches , no training, no interviews, nothing at all. our baby could stay with me for these days so you could rest…you need to rest…you’ve been tiring yourself out for too much now…and you need a well deserved rest” he proposed.

at first you wanted to say no. staying away from your baby for four days? absolutely no!

but you needed it. you needed to rest, sleep for more than 3 hours.

so you ended up saying yes.

you packed all the things kylian would be needing for these days and you already knew it was going downhill even before starting. but you prayed that he would call his mom if he needed help and not a baby sitter. your baby didn’t need a babysitter, your baby needed to bond with his father.

so you gave him the bag, the baby in his stroller, a hand piece of paper with all the things kylian needed to know and waved them goodbye.

you’ve spent the first day in bed. literally. you ordered take out and ate in bed.

the second day you focused a little more on the house, it needed cleaning but you took things calmer. and in the afternoon you had time for yourself so you booked yourself a hair appointment and you fixed the shit you had in head.

the third day was a real blessing. in the morning you went out for groceries, in the afternoon you went out for shopping. you stopped at his cute book store near your house and once inside you accidentally bumped into someone. you apologised so many times that the man in front of you had to stop you.

you’ve began to talk, finding out you have more in common than what you expected. you felt an immediate connection with him and he felt it too.

the same night you had dinner together, it wasn’t a date, more like two people that wanted to get to know each others better.

“i liked this night…” you said when he walked you back home.

“it doesn’t have to be the last one though…” he smiled at you and for the first time in months you let out a genuine laugh.

“no it doesn’t…”

“well, goodnight madame…i really had a great time with you” he said smiling at you and gently kissing your cheek.

you texted all night and on day four you invited him over for lunch.

you really had a great time together. you thought he was going to dump you the moment you told him about you having a child and being a single mom at this young age but he stayed anyway. he listened to you. and for the first time in a very long time you felt attracted to someone who wasn’t kylian.

bonus was that he wasn’t a football fan so you wouldn’t have to worry.

you’ve spent the fourth day together, learning more about one another.

and as days, even months passed you grew more and more fond of each other to the point you started dating.

kylian hated it. he hated seeing you with another man. he hated seeing you happy with someone who wasn’t him. but he knew he lost you many months ago and he couldn’t do anything to have you back.

this was like your little and sweet revenge.

after being in pain and sad, crying almost every night you found a way out, a light, an opportunity that you had to take, and thank goodness, you did.

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iamyoursonly · 4 months

Text

My safe haven (25/12/2023)

merry christmas guyssss! i’m here to serve you a meal so enjoyyyy

Wearing my headphones, I sit down at a seat on the train back home. My heart and soul can’t wait till the moment of relaxation home comes. I was so excited to finally go home after a whole week of overtime. I really am tired, physically and somewhat mentally too.

The ride was a bit bumpy, about an hour long I’d say. I enjoyed the quiet time alone… Music playing in my ears as I read the book I have kept in my bag for a few months already. One page and another, I scanned through the lines of words, reading every single one of them.

Enjoyable times flies by, am I right? The train reaches its final stop — my stop — as I reluctantly get off. Holding the book in my hands, I jog out of the subway and head to the bus station.

The Christmas decorations in the subway were bright, children were carolling in the station and shops had sales for this festive holiday. I couldn’t help but stop and admire the decorations at the bakery in awe. I take out the scarf from my bag and wrap it around my neck, scared that I might get a cold from the weird weather right now.

My phone buzzed when first I stepped out of the subway, the cold wind blowing in my face. I breathed out a big breath, seeing my own breath in the air. Then I take out my phone, hands freezing.

S: Are you home yet?

You: Almost there

The time was about eleven at night when I finally reached home — my little haven of peace. I love how comforting the environment always is and how well it reflects my personality, the quietness of it and the calmness it brings me. I take off my shoes, and turn on the lights for the living room. A tall and lean figure was seen spreading all over the couch after the lights were turned on.

“Satoru? What are you doing here? On the couch really? You’re going to break your fucking back, dude.”

He stands up, looking a bit offended by my comment. “Hey! First up, I have the right to be here. You gave me the key, alright? Secondly, where if not the couch. Your bed? Lastly, I am not going to break my fucking back, dude. I’m just twenty eight.”

I mutter a little curse under my breath, “You little shit. At least take care of your mess! Do you think I won’t catch the chip crumbs on the couch?”

He quickly tried to swipe the crumbs onto the floor to ‘remove the evidence’ of his ‘crime’. It’s actually really funny I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

I noticed that Satoru let out a visible blush when I started laughing, it was adorable to be honest. But then he started laughing along with me.

“Would you like a coffee?” Satoru asks, “I want to apologise about the mess.”

I stop my laughing and hit his head lightly, “You dumbass it’s 11 right now, do you want me awake for the whole night?” I mutter.

He says sorry quickly though, and promised to get me coffee at a more appropriate time. Then he proposed to play nintendo games together. I kept losing to him but it doesn’t matter.

We have always had so much fun together, since forever ago, because the ‘home is my safe haven’ thing is a lie. The truth is, Satoru is my safe haven. He doesn’t know it though.

A few years ago, his mother met up with me personally after she heard from an ‘unknown source’ that I have a thing for his son. It’s not like I was in any position to deny this fact, ai just didn’t want to accept it yet. But I was definite that the person that told her was my ex that had always been angry at me for always hanging out with Satoru.

“Here take the money and stop everything you’re doing with Satoru.” That’s all I remember her saying but all I did was keep my stance and say no. Then I burst out of the room crying, and ended up in Satoru’s arms again. Telling him all about it.

He went to talk to his mother the next day and he was grounded for a week. That week I felt alone and empty and sad without him. And started to over think that I was the bad influence for him. So I asked my mother if I could transfer schools, at least somewhere away from Satoru. Because as long as Satoru is happy, I am.

I remember seeing a girl on Satoru’s instagram stories, apparently she was his girlfriend and it was just to ‘take his mind off all this drama’. Not that I’m blaming him though. I could only make myself believe that: I’m the coward that ran away and I don’t deserve him.

When I thought the ‘feelings’ were finally over after five years of ‘No Satoru’, I returned and took up a nine-to-five job as a secretary for the company Satoru’s family owned.

It was just to test out if I still had the butterflies in my stomach when I glance at Satoru’s pretty face. Well they’re still there, all that distance and time away didn’t really work.

“Hey! Satoru! The crumbs are on the floor now, oh my god! Why do you keep doing this to me every time you come to my house! Do you really want me to get into trouble with your mother again?”

He let out a slight chuckle, “It’s fine, because I’ll be there with you this time.”

I breathe out, “What?!”

He continued, “Have I ever told you why I came back to you after you left for so long?”

“To be honest with you, Satoru. I don’t really want or need to know, because you’re here now and that’s what it matters. But go ahead and talk.”

He smiled and nodded, “You know when you left, I was practically a living corpse. At least my mom said I was. I didn’t want to believe that you were gone. I thought that you were strong enough to trust me to handle this… But you were gone. And when I realized it was a little too late. I gaslighted myself that you were just going on a small vacation and you’ll be back soon. But the next time I saw you was at your job interview. And you were working for my top employee, you didn’t know how happy I was, I may have cried tears of joy in the bathroom.”

I hug him, “Sorry for leaving. And thank you for telling me all this”

He hugs me back, “Yeah. Can I tell you something?”

I nod, “Go ahead, Satoru.”

“I like you.”

Well that was the thing that I least expected he’d say. ‘I like you’? Really? Was I happy? Or was I not. But I just wanted to fling my arms over his shoulders and give him a big hug and an even bigger thank you.

But we’d be good at dating, since we’ve known each other for so long, we already fought and figured it out. We have known each other’s likes or dislikes, and he could take me out on dates filled with joy and fun. Maybe we could try it out, even if it ruins the friendship. It’s worth it if it’s ruined for you.

So I hug the taller male, smiling on my face and also deep down, “Thank you. Thank you for liking me.”

I didn’t know what to say, it was a bit shocking. Maybe it all just happened too fast, or was it because I couldn’t process too much and was just hallucinating. I pinched my cheek hard and I was everything BUT hallucinating.

“Is this real?” I asked Satoru.

He looked at me with a smile and smiled, “Unfortunately, yeah.”

I hit his chest because of his childishness, “I can’t with you.”

“But you like me too don’t you?” He shrug.

“What did you say??!” I start yelling at him, grabbing the TV controller that was on the couch. “Come here, boss. Let me hit some sense into you!”

He run away frantically, as a joke of course, he knew I was joking, that’s how well we know each other. Then I catch him, I grabbed ahold of his waist from behind, “Caught you.”

He hold his hands up like he had just been arrested, “Oh no! I have been caught.” He said with a tone of sarcasm. He turned around and held me up, I was shocked of course, I yelped when he first did. Then his face was close to mine, so close I could feel his breath on my face.

“I really like you, I’m not joking.”

Feeling brave, I grab his face. “Guess what, I like you too.”

Then I kiss him, and it was ethereal, as if all the butterflies in my stomach had exploded. And it was just like the world has left the two of us behind. Just him and I.

“Really?” He breathed out, “You mean it?”

I continue holding his face, looking him in the eye, “What do you think? Does it feel unreal?”

Satoru chuckled, and held my face too, “It does.” My face grows red from it, I don’t know if it was because of the cold or because of him anymore, but either ways I’m grateful enough to have him here already.

“Also, sweetie. You’ve made my year even more special,” He says, and I look at him. The clock chimes, signalling that it’s now 12am, “Now I can finally change my way of saying ‘Merry Christmas’ to you. I’m going to say ‘Merry Christmas, darling’ from now on.” I could just smile at this sweet gesture, “Then what should I say? ‘Merry Christmas, ‘toru’?”

“I’d like that.” Satoru says, then he leans down and kisses me again.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Merry Christmas, ‘Toru.”

This Christmas, and the next and the next next, until forever. I wish to be in his embrace, his warmth and pray that our love will be eternal.

BONUS:

“Look here, princess.” He says, making my eyes look at him on command, “Yes, dear?” I mimic his tone as I look at his gorgeous eyes. He laughed when I did.

“What??” I asked, pouting, “So it’s only funny when you do it?”

He jokingly commented, “Of course it is, no one has my sense of humor.” I playfully hit him and he dramatically pretended if I had hit him in the gut hard. “Oh my god that hurt so bad!”

He really has a nice sense of humor.

masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #drabble #gojo and you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #christmas #hehe #live laugh love

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secretdiaryofcrowley · 22 days

Text

Trying to talk to Maggie and to Muriel – Attempt Nr.2

Hi Maggie, please tell Muriel to come over to the record shop, so that I need to say this only once: Stop trying to talk to me, the both of you. Stop sending me notes, stop trying to call me, just stop doing anything about me. I am not your friend and never will be.

There, you have it. Nice and short.

The only problem is, if I put it like that, Maggie will probably cry and Nina will give me her angry face again. And Muriel will look at me with those big brown eyes and think it’s their fault. And perhaps cry, too.

Enough! No more crying. I’m sick of blowing my nose all the time. It gets all red and blotchy. Why do noses always have to run when you cry! Major design flaw if you ask me. But I forgot, you are not asking, @the-almighty-god. You’re just playing your ineffable game. Next time, please play Dungeons & Dragons with us. At least that one has uhm…. dungeons and dragons and elves and Bags of Holding in it. I would quite like a Bag of Holding, then I could’ve kept all of my plants when Hell kicked me out of my flat.

Okay, next try: Hi Maggie and Muriel. I can’t be your friend because I don’t do friendships. Bye.

That one’s so short, I could actually write it on a card. Maybe I should, then I don’t have to talk to them. But Nina was very specific about this one. If you don’t want friends, you have to tell people to go away and you have to do it in person. Writing will not do, texting will not do, and simply going away until they forget about you will not do either. That one least of all.

Nina says, the truth is painful, but at least they’ll have a clean cut and they can start to heal. They can’t when I just leave them hanging. No closure.

Hi Maggie and Muriel. I don’t want to be your friend because I’m scared. Scared that I’ll get hurt when I open up to someone. Scared that you’ll get hurt, when Heaven and Hell start doing their thing again and we all get caught in the crossfire.

No, by ‘the truth’ I didn’t mean ‘that much truth’.

Just the clean cut. The one we never got to have. First, I walked out, then he walked away. We never sorted anything out. Did he leave because he chose Heaven over me? Did he leave because he chose Heaven for me? Did we break up? How can we break up if we aren’t even together? Are we still friends, or is everything over for good?

What does he want with Heaven? Does he truly believe, he can make a difference? Was it just an excuse to get away? Why did he kiss me back and then told me, he forgives me? Did he even listen to anything I said?

Why suddenly dance with me at the ball when he refused to dance with me back in 1941 when I asked him to? Why does he want me to be an angel again? Am I not okay for him the way I am? Does he even want to be “an us”, or did he at least want it before everything went down the drain? Does he still think about me as he is up there, doing God knows what?

Is he thinking of me right now? Perhaps this very moment?

I slam on the brakes and let the Bentley spin to the right, so the car behind me passes by without hitting me. The driver yells something rude, but I’m not listening to him. My mind is full of questions and I can’t answer a single one of them.

No closure. No clean cut. Just pain.

I can’t heal because I’m left hanging. I can’t move on with my life because I don’t know what’s there to move on to and what there isn't. Is he still a part of this life or is he gone for good?

I’m on hold. I’m on hold like a human on a phone who doesn’t know if they should hang up or if they should wait for the conversation to continue. When Beelzebub came to talk to me about Gabriel, I understood immediately what was going on with them. Why can I not understand what is going on with us?

Again Nina’s words: “But then, other people’s love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own.”

I start the Bentley’s engine again, but before I can bring my foot down, I freeze.

“Hello, traitor.”

No literal freezing. Just a jumpscare.

“I was going to pull you down to my new office, as it seems befitting for my new position. But you’re so miserable already, I didn’t want to drag you out of your safe space. Besides, Hell doesn’t need to know about our little talk, do they?”

~*~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19

@aziraphalesdiaries @muriel-not-the-dim-one

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #final fifteen #crowley is lonely #crowley is a mess #crowley loves aziraphale #crowley misses aziraphale

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lightlycareless · 4 months

Note

What are something the kids do that get on Y/N and Naoya’s nerves?

Hello anon!!

Ngl I had no idea how to answer this ask initially because I just kept going back to the same situation over and over again of “well, I don’t think they’d like if they were being loud or disobedient” but that’s kind of expected from any young child and I think they might not really find it that irritating/upsetting, grown used to it by the 3 babies they have by now.

So, I did some research, eventually going with my mom to ask her about, you know, firsthand experiences, and she gave me one that I was completely convinced would be the #1 situation Naoya and you would absolutely hate when it happens.

warnings: none. just family dynamics :> Naoya being a surprisingly good father, he got all kinds of bad examples to not follow, after all.

The one thing that always gets on Naoya’s and Y/N’s nerves (or more like upset them) is … when their kids fight with one other.

And I don’t mean “playfully”, whining because they want what the other has or so, but rather making them cry, angry… and maybe even hit them.

This is undoubtedly the most painful thing Naoya and Y/N had experienced as parents.

The two always pictured having a loving family, strived to do everything in their power for it to happen, and even if there were some bumps along the way, it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle—until reality reminds them that not everything was to be smooth sailing: with clashing personalities, and the unwanted occasional intervention of the Zen’in clan, it was only natural problems like this would arise.

And while both try to comfort each other by saying that sometimes siblings argue, have discussions, or do things to get in the other’s nerves… it isn’t until one of them strikes the other that they actively put a stop to this.

It breaks Naoya’s heart to see that this aspect of his personal life has unwillingly befallen them; and he has no doubts that this is learned behavior, replicated from some of his unruly relatives which he has threatened to keep away from his family…

He doesn’t how they do it, how they have this unspoken talent to stick their noses in what does not concern them, and no matter what he does, Naoya can’t make them stop, infuriating him every single time he remembers this fact!

Nonetheless, he doesn’t give up, and understanding the best he could do is refocus his efforts in what he can change.

Thus, you and Naoya teach the kids on how to deal with these emotions, explain that while its normal to feel frustrated and there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s not okay to take it out with others, specially towards close ones such as family, because it can be very hurtful.

At the end, this turned out to be a very informative and fruitful situation, just another step in their growth, having learned how to apologize, understand why certain things are not right to do, as well as assertively communicate their emotions (to the best of their ability, anyways.) or do activities to let out their pent-up frustrations before they get the best of them.

Aside from this progress, two more things develop from here.

First, amongst the activities they could do to deal with their emotions, Naoya begins to train them in jujutsu. I cannot describe how excited he is to spend time with them, teaching them all he knows of his technique (maybe I’m too greedy, but I like to imagine they took after Naoya’s technique in that matter 🤭) and encourage healthy competition and self-improvement.

Secondly, because these behaviors eventually quieted down, the kids having understood a new sense of what a family means, they all grew protective of one another (specially Naomi, who is the oldest of the 3—no one messes with her baby siblings!) an adorable sight that plants the seed of wanting a bigger family in your and Naoya’s mind, eventually welcoming a 4th member to the family ❤️

:') I like answering questions like this because I end up unwittingly developing their family, from their timeline, personalities, and how naoya and you are as parents 😭❤️

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I really wouldn't mind answering more things like this hehe, or if you have general hc's, just let me know!! 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ we gotta spread the domestic side of Naoya please 🤭

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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statelysapphic · 9 months

Text

Letters to Emily

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: When Ian Doyle takes away the one person you love, you find solace in writing her letter.

Warnings: Typical talk of Emily being dead. Hurt. Let me know if I missed something<3

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a while. I’ve been working on this for a while, and idk how I feel about it. I very lightly edited this. Feedback is appreciated as always. Ao3 Link. Enjoy!<3

July 26, 2011

Emily,

I accepted the job. I’m not sure what would piss you off more though: the fact that it’s a desk job or the fact that it’s in Phoenix and I’m leaving Quantico. Leaving the team. I know you’d tell me that I’m making a huge mistake but it’s just too painful.

JJ brings me coffee every morning, just like you did, and even though I know she means well, it’s a painful reminder that you will never bring me coffee again. When I look up from my desk in the bullpen to see the empty one across from me, I’m reminded that I won’t be able to watch you work anymore. I loved watching you pour over files, watching the gears turn in your head. Putting the pieces together and catching the bad guy. You were brilliant.

Emily paused as her vision blurred, the burning sensation of tears threatening to spill catches her attention and shifts her focus. She was angry. Angry at Doyle for forcing her into this mess. Angry at JJ for not telling her that you transferred. Angry at Hotch for even approving your transfer request. Angry at Derek, Spencer, and Penelope; Did they even try to convince you to stay? She took a deep breath, and then another. As she felt her heart rate return to normal, she wiped the tears away from her cheeks and continued reading.

Everything here is a painful reminder of you. Everything. I walk past a framed photo of you every single day and it guts me. Every single time. I can’t keep doing it, so I’m running. I know you’d be so disappointed in me. Virginia isn’t home without you, Em. It stopped feeling like home when JJ told me you “never made it off the table.” I don’t think I’ll ever find your feeling of home again.

I’m not sure how to tell the team about the transfer. Maybe I’ll buy them a round after this case and break the news to them then. Booze and karaoke should soften them up, right?

I don’t think they’re going to take it well. I just hope they skip the guilt trip.

I hate to end this on a sad note, so I will say that I think Arizona will be good for me. Lots of sunshine and wide open spaces. New people, new experiences. I actually think I’m excited, even though I feel guilty for it. I suppose that will get better with time. I don’t know if I’ve told you this, the one item on my bucket list is to go rockhounding out west. Maybe I’ll treat myself once I get settled.

I miss you so much, Em. But I love you even more. Always.

Emily refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. As she placed it on the coffee table in front of her, she finally allowed herself to cry. She had done everything in her power to protect you from Doyle and her past. Although you were physically safe, it was clear from your letters that the emotional toll was severe. She was only about halfway through the stack that she found in your bedside table, and she still had three months worth left to read. She knew she wouldn’t finish by the time you got home, but that was okay.

The raven haired woman sighed, picking up the next letter in the pile.

August 12, 2011

Emmy,

Fuck I miss you today. I wish you would’ve been here to ground me though that. Or kick some ass for me. The movers were nice enough to break my bed frame while bringing it up the stairs and then denied doing it. I watched him drop it, babe. I wasn’t even mad until he denied it. Don’t worry, I called the manager and received a full refund for the trouble.

I wish you were here to cuddle on this couch with me. I miss the way you’d hold me. I felt untouchable when I was in your arms. I think you’d like this new apartment though. The master bedroom has a killer view AND a balcony. It also has plenty of south facing windows for my houseplants, and room for many more. My collection has grown exponentially since you’ve seen it last. As odd as it sounds, they’ve helped me through this.

Sorry for the short letter today. Who knew moving halfway across the country would be so tiring? Could’ve fooled me. I love you, Emily. Always.

Emily chuckled lightly at your sarcasm, but soon felt the tears return.

Sadness began to fade within Emily, and anxiety soon took its place. She was unsure of how you would react when you came home after a long day at work to find your not-actually-dead partner sitting in your living room, reading your private letters, no less. Sure, they were technically addressed to her, but she knows you never thought anyone would read them. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to do this, but Emily vehemently rejected all help that the team offered. Hotch offered to call your Supervisor to have them sit you down to talk you through it. JJ nearly begged Emily to help in some capacity, already feeling immense guilt over the situation. Though, she almost let Rossi accompany her when he offered, and she was beginning to regret not doing so.

The regret faded almost instantly as Emily heard a key in the front door. Her heart rate increased and her chest became tight. The reality of the situation had settled in for Emily, and the uncertainty was paralyzing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a sorry attempt to calm her nerves, as she braced herself to face you. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps that grew louder and louder until there was silence. Emily didn’t dare look up. Even as she heard the loud clatter of what she assumed were your keys colliding with the hardwood apartment floor.

“E… Emmy?”

#emily prentiss x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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writtingsomestuff · 11 months

Note

Hii I have a request for Jamal Musiala, maybe him and the reader get into an argument and he makes her cry and she leaves the house and his all worried and goes out and looks for her (ending in fluff? )

Loved your last Jamal fic 💓

A day to forget - Jamal Musiala

Jamal Musiala x fem!reader

Warnings: None, I guess

Hello! I am so sorry for being late but I am in the middle of my finals.

Hope you like it tho! xx

“Sorry, sorry, sorry...” at this point, he lost the number of times he apologized, “Look, I didn’t mean that, at all. I swear I didn’t-”

“You didn’t? Why did you say it, then?” Your eyes were red of how much you cried. Both of you were in the middle of the salon, of your best friend’s apartment.

(Earlier this morning)

Jamal was angry and furious about everything. The team wasn’t at the best moment and he couldn’t do anything about it, he was distracted and every little thing could irritate him, every single one. Months have passed since you started to live together, however, you were stressed and occupied with your finals.

He just finished cleaning your bedroom, the bathroom and the guest room when he made his way to the living room. He cleaned to distract himself from overthinking, a tip recommended by Goretzka.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he arrived there. You were sitting on the floor, in front of the table. The computer was in the middle of the table, millions of sheets everywhere; in the sofas, some under the chairs, others in the big table, and two of the were even next to the TV. Moreover, there were two bowls of food next to the computer.

“What’s this?” He asked trying to maintain his calm

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry but I just need to finish this assignment by tonight and I am so stressed, but I promise that I will clean once I finish” You quickly got up and made your way to him

“It seems as if a hurricane has passed” He said in a cold tone

You let out a small laugh as you thought he was kidding, “I promise” you approached him to put soft kiss his cheek, but he quickly turned away from you. It hurt, really, it felt like a stake in your heart, he never refused your hugs, nor your cuddles let alone your kisses

“Jamal...” your voice sounded weak, you hated it but you couldn’t hide it. True, you were occupied, busy and stressed but you weren’t dumb and you knew that he was distancing himself not only from you, from the whole world.

“Why do you have to be so messy? I mean you could study in a more proper way” he said without looking at you.

“Jamal I said I’ll clean it”

“You’re always a mess y/n, you could- I don’t know be more polite, study like a normal person, no need to throw your things everywhere” he still didn’t look at your eyes

You could feel your anger heating up. You weren’t very patient and that’s own of your flaws, however, he was being unfair and irrational.

“Jamal, stop I-” you started to say calmly

“No y/n, you need to be more polite, you are enough old to act like this!” he let out, and you couldn’t believe it

“Jamal seriously you either calm down or this is not going to end well” you tried to look at him in his eyes but no, he didn’t

“I really regret living with you”

That was it. That. Those six words, six damned words.

“I honestly- I don’t even know what to say!” you started and there was no turning back, “if you are going through a bad moment well, I am sorry but I can’t do anything about it! I tried to give you some space and time for you because I knew you needed it, but now, you fucked up so bad… so bad. You don’t have the right to come at me and relief your stress over me, alright? I don’t deserve this… I really don’t!” you screamed releasing the anger from your body “I am leaving to Claire’s, you can clean up this and live with your tidy house” you kicked the sheets on your way and quickly made your way to you shared bedroom

(Now)

“I didn’t want to, okay?” he tried to touch your arm, but you immediately refused “I am just so… I am a mess and I really shouldn’t have said you didn’t deserve it, I was an idiot and I am very sorry”

You looked at him, in his eyes. There he was, there was Jamal, his eyes were full of honesty and repentance

“Forgive me?” he asked with a small smile, and you couldn’t stop yours

“Yes” you hugged him tightly as he kissed your head and your cheeks repeatedly.

“Please, don't cry anymore” he wiped softly your tears

Any comments about my writing are welcome. Thanks for reading!

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hannah-h-pleb · 6 months

Text

Ahh…so I failed at putting out two pieces of writing PLUS, this is later than I anticipated

BUT, I still present you with some brand new Cartman content 😛

I believe someone already wrote about this, but I’m gonna give my interpretation as well because why not. Harley, this one’s for you dear 😘😚 @h-harleybaby

Mad Scientist! Cartman x Assistant Fem! Reader: NSFW Headcanons

Content Advisory: Smut (18+) minors DNI, mentions of blood, hints of dumbification and BDSM, aged up characters

So you’ve gone and fallen for the mad scientist have you? How unfortunate for you, even more so the fact that you’re his assistant. You’re the one who’s there to witness all of his experiments, and provide him with the tools he needs to successfully complete said experiments

This isn’t just any mad scientist however. This mad scientist is none other than Eric Cartman

Mad Scientist Cartman is not what you would expect in all honesty. One would expect someone as cocky as Cartman to barrel into things without a single thought. Incorrect

Mad Scientist Cartman is, actually legitimately scary. Why? Because his experiments are highly calculated and well thought out. When he’s busy conducting or planning his experiments, he gets eerily quiet, and it’s wise not to interrupt his thought process unless you really want to see him angry. The only time he speaks is when he needs you to grab a tool for him, or if he needs you to bring him a bag of his beloved cheesy poofs. Y’know, brain food

Despite how intimidating he is, you admire his work. Day by day you sit in on his experiment sessions and watch as he carefully plans everything out to a tee, and how well he carries himself during the experiments. He really is smarter than what people give him credit for. That and he always keeps a clean work space, even if it gets messy with blood or chemicals

Yes, you admire the man, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him out of fear of changing the dynamic between you two. What you don’t know, is he’s admiring you too. Oh yes, he admires his faithful assistant who always does as she’s told without question, and god you look cute while you do so. His assistant who is always at his beck and call whenever he needs her. He often wonders, what else could he make you do?

Then…he starts getting ideas..

So one day during an experiment on some poor unfortunate soul (please god someone get the reference), he pushes his chair back. You assume he’s simply going to ask you for another tool or maybe something to drink, until you hear him say “You. On your knees. Now.”

The authority behind his voices makes you shiver. You assume he’s joking until you look into his eyes and see that he’s dead serious. You drop to your knees immediately. Chuckling, he stands over you and unbuckles his belt

The scientist lets out a series of moans and groans as he shoves his cock as far down your throat as he can, not caring whether you can breathe or not. Despite being overwhelmed with pleasure, this does not stop Cartman from calling you names, reminding you that you’re just his pathetic little assistant who’s been so desperate to feel his cock down your throat. He’s interested in how much you can take, and his cock throbs in your mouth as he ponders what his next move will be

Once he’s done having his way with your face, he decides to switch things up, and next thing you know he’s got you bent over his desk with his dick deep inside of you and a fistful of your hair. Best believe this man shows no mercy on you either

He wants you to cry and beg him to slow down because “it’s too much”. The mad scientist doesn’t seem to care how rough he’s being or how hard he’s fucking you. Right now, he’s conducting a more personal experiment: How much can you take before you go dumb on his cock?

Cartman only laughs at you when he hears you start to sob. His grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back towards him. “Why’re you crying, hm? C’mon, I thought you wanted this. If you’re crying now, you’re in for a long night doll~”

In the spirit of seeing how far he can push you, he really likes to fuck you in the ass and finger your pussy at the same time. Double the stimulation, double the pleasure for the both of you

Can imagine that he’s left you tied up with a vibrator on your clit and left you like that while he resumes his experiments. As much as he hates to admit, the sound of your whiny little moans makes his cock twitch in his pants, it’s almost painful for him, but he refuses to give in because he doesn’t want you to think you have any power over him at all

Mad Scientist Cartman is more than likely into knife play. Think of all the sharp tools he owns. He’s definitely held one of those tools up to your neck and told you not to make a sound or he’d cut your neck open. He’s drawn blood more than once. He wants to know how easily he can make you bleed, and watching the blood drip down your neck is a huge turn on for him

Not only does this man own tools, he owns PLENTY of toys. And he’s using as many as he can on you, from vibrators to dildos to handcuffs. He’s definitely tied you down and laid you on his desk, just so he could pour candle wax on your body just to see how much pain you could take

Oh yes…Mad Scientist Cartman is a huge sadist all the way. But soooome times, and only sometimes, he doesn’t hate when the roles are reversed and he’s the one taking the pain and getting overstimulated, but that’s a subject for another time 😉

Just as a good scientist conducts good experiments, Cartman is very good at what he does to his partner. Having experimented on live bodies, he has a good idea of which buttons to push to make someone tick. He’s interested in how far he can push things with you so that he can feed his sadistic side. You may be his assistant by day, but you’re his whiny little painslut by night

Ngl I feel like I could’ve done better than this but it ain’t too shabby! Might write a little blurb for Kenny tomorrow we’ll see

Love you sillies 🫶🫶

#Harley my love #come get your juice #I love you pretty girl #I hope you like this even though it kinda sucks #eric cartman #mad scientist Cartman #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #Halloween 2023 #hannah is feeling silly

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pretty-chaotic-world · 6 months

Text

if my BPD can scream

1. I wish i could have a normal love... but no, my brain wants to worship every little detail of you until it drives me insane

2. sorry i pushed you away i felt abandoned and suicidal

3. I’m sick of going to bed and knowing things won’t be better tomorrow

4. I'll ask you thousands times if you really love, please don't get annoyed

5. I'll create "drama" and mishaps only to feel like I'm in home

6. i’m afraid that one day my anger will overshadow the little love i still have left for the world

7. I feel numb. No tears, no anger, nothing. Just going through the same day again and again. I would rather just sleep without waking up.

8. I'm so tired of everytime one small argument or inconvenience breaks out I want to end it and self destruct, it's so draining.

9. I want to stop feeling anything and when i actually don't it breaks my heart but I can't cry it out.

10. "its all in your head" well duh where tf else is it gonna be??? in my fucking kidneys????

11. I am constantly between wanting people to care about me and wanting them not to so I can hurt myself without feeling guilty

12. Psychiatrist told me there is no cure for bpd and I've to change myself. Well why cant they just let me die then?

13. Until you live with bpd you'll never know what it's like to be too much and not enough at the same time.

14. i know im constantly too much for everyone but sometimes i just want to be enough for someone

15. if he will leave me, my next diagnosis will be of "sociopath"

16. im so jealous of all the people who see him and touch him and talk to him every single day it should be me me me me

17. oh I got my hair coloured. why? because I can't hurt myself anymore

18. "you're so distant" because you can't handle my abandonment issues.

19. My younger self disappoint me a lot. like why were you begging people to stay in your life? ohh no worries I know the answer

20. I wanna throw a plate against the wall, stab a knife through my hand, destroy my laptop with a hammer, smash my door in with an axe and spray graffiti all over the walls of my room

21. Why shouldn’t I be mad? Why can’t I just be angry and be allowed to feel it? Why can’t I burn everything down?

22. I have to watch my mouth every fucking second to make sure I don't destroy every relation I have coz apparently social life matters!!

23. Isnt it fucked up how he got away with every horrible thing he made me experience and I’m the one who has to live with myself feeling absolutely fucking worthless

24. I don't deserve food and love. im a horrible person.

25. this is how my eating cycle goes

feeling weak coz i haven't ate anything -> eat -> purge -> feeling guilty after purging -> eat more -> feeling guilty after eating so much -> cry coz you don't know what's happening

26. the diagnosis makes me believe I'm not insane just lil emo ig!! NOOOO YOU'RE INSANE

27. “don’t let it bother u” baby i’m gonna be bothered by this for the next 10 years

28. if I tell you I love you its equivalent to I can kill someone for you

29. Actually upon further inspection that shit really hurt my feelings

30. I don't dive into insecurity anymore, i drown in self-loathe

31. i shut up in between group convo coz I know I'll talk invaluable shit and nobody really cares what I say until it's psychology class

32. "if you are fully aware of yourself, why do you keep acting like that?" slapping self awareness on top of bpd only grants the ability to watch yourself self-destruct straight from the vip section thats all it does literally

33. “Where do you see yourself in the future” building a cult for mentally ill people

34. ofc I've a praise kind i was ignored as a child

35. I'm much better than I was before. you know why coz I don't to air now and don't see monsters walking by side all the time

36. No I don't want to self harm anymore I need to kill that fucking monster

37. Don't mind me, I'm just casually sabotaging all my positive relationships with negative delusions because my life doesn't feel real unless something dramatic and destructive is constantly occurring

38. i don’t care i don’t care i don’t care (im going to sob my fucking eyes out)

39. “Stop making your disorder your personality” I have a fucking personality disorder for god sake

40. turning my mental illnesses into kinks and calling it the BDSM-5

41. "destroy something precious while you're in rage" ohh yeaa and then I'll do that again and again

42. what I hate most about my BPD is the fact that I have started doubting every emotion that I’ve ever felt in my life, whether it’s love, my grief through multiple traumas, or my anger, & it’s so saddening. It has actually led me to start questioning my reality.

43. if I need medication to stay alive, am I really meant to be here?

44. it's either be alone without 75% of my symptoms, or be with someone and display the most horrendous unstable awful version of myself. why do i have to choose between love & happiness or peace & stability?

45. That fucking bpd rage where everyone's voices makes you want to scream and every noise around you makes you want to sh and you're so mad you can almost feel the cuts everywhere

46. getting worked up to the point of becoming physically ill (throwing up/stomach issues etc) because you felt rejected/abandoned by your favourite person

47. i wish my trauma made me kind as everyone says but i’m becoming what i fear the most- a monster.

48. imagine getting diagnosed with a personality disorder and the only visible representation of that disorder is an animated horse man, a sociopathic sitcom character from philadelphia, and darth vader

#bpd #bpd awareness #personality disorder #borderline personality disorder #mental illness #mental health #mental instability

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completeoveranalysis · 8 months

Text

[8]

Ok Evil Wolverine what do you have to say.

Oh.

No Evil Wolverine is full of shit.

But I think you can see an interesting side of him here that I’m not sure has been on display before. Usually he narrates about how great his plan is or how angry he is that his plan isn’t working, but here he’s talking about something entirely different. He’s watching Lava Lamp make these choices and he seems THRILLED that making the decisions he is.

I don’t know if he has Plans for Lava Lamp (he was originally meant to be killed by Fai after all), but lacking any future knowledge this scene is tacked onto the moment where Lava Lamp FINALLY starts to be a bit less tragically alone by having the Tsubasa Family share his decision and the consequences of it. Evil Wolverine, in turn, is celebrating the fact that Lava Lamp is making the same type of decision that HE might make.

So we effectively see Evil Wolverine himself ALSO take comfort in the idea that other people are like him. That they’re making the same decisions and facing the same consequences that he’s so focussed on.

Even though it’s a bit of an evil monologue moment we’re accidentally privy to Evil Wolverine ALSO being so alone and isolated in his ruins and his plans that he’s visibly excited over any perceived similarity he has with someone else. He’s thrilled into monologuing over the PERCEPTION that Lava Lamp can make the same hard choices he does, that he’s willing to cause suffering to get what he wants.

And it’s clearly not actually the same. Lava Lamp is torn up inside to the point that the Tsubasa Family were finally moved into realising that he ISN’T as calm and collected and unaffected as he pretends to be. Lava Lamp was emotionally devastated by the choice he made here and was willing to let it destroy him before the others saw this and stopped him.

It’s a far cry from Evil Wolverine who feels nothing as he destroys the lives of thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people - endless worlds tossed into the tragedy pyre far beyond our ability to measure - for his own private goals.

He’s also missing the Agency factor. Lava Lamp doesn’t REALLY have any choice here. He can’t ACTUALLY choose to stay here in this time loop and never ask any questions that deviate from the plot. The time loop was ending the second they arrived. In reality, they DIDN’T make this choice. It happened around them completely independent of anything they actually did on purpose. In reality, this was a choice that EVIL WOLVERINE made by forcing this reality on the people trapped in the time loop in the first place. NO-ONE ELSE did this. No-one else set this up or chose to be here or chose to end this. It’s all on him - the ENTIRE SERIES is on him.

It’s all choices that he forced on other people from start to finish. So even though he’s really fond of the idea that "Lava Lamp made a hard choice here and this makes him just as selfish as Evil Wolverine", he is deluding himself. Not a single other person can really take the blame for these lives that he’s destroyed, no matter how much Evil Wolverine tries to convince himself that they might.

The only real question I have is whether Evil Wolverine is telling himself this because he’s entirely delusional or if it’s out of emotional desperation, and he’s just that eager to have a connection with the people he watches all day every day.

Evil Wolverine is developing his own little parasocial relationship here, delighting in the percieved brutality in people that doesn't really exist and using it to back up his own warped misinterpretation of reality.

It's all just a bit sad really.

#This pathetic murder man out here really THAT lonely #Even though like #He DID have Xing Huo before he killed her #And he could probably confide in Kyle if he wanted to #But honestly who would? Ugh #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 187 #Evil Wolverine #It’s interesting that Yuuko has so many insights into the human psyche #All through the wishes they make and what it means #And Evil Wolverine THINKS he has the same insight #And he has a POINT #But he’s distorted every parameter around the point #Until it no longer means anything #Yuuko deals in people living their lives naturally and making choices #Of their own free will and on purpose #(She privately approves or disapproves but doesnt interfere)#But Evil Wolverine FORCES situations on people #And congratulates himself when they make an unwilling choice he likes #It’s honestly very Republican of him

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lushbarb · 1 year

Text

y/n & j | hurt.

6 months postpartum

- the day -

It was about 6 PM when he came home and I told him I needed to speak with him.

Are you okay?” He asked me.

“Yes” I tell him, knowing I’m not. My stomach is turning, my face is hot and I don’t know how to tell my husband that I know he is having an affair and I am about to leave him.

I don’t want to. At all. I love this man with everything in me. We have been through different stages of life together, watched each-other become parents, started our careers, and there’s not a day since we met that we’ve spent apart. He’s my world. My child’s father. My best friend and I can’t remember life without him. How can I leave him?

But also, how could he step out on me? On us? How could he look another woman in the eye knowing it’s not me and tell her things that only he should tell me and treat her a way he should only treat me. He made a commitment for the rest of his life to me, to us.

I can’t even think about looking at another man, let alone sleeping with one. The thought of hurting my husband makes me want to throw up.

My thoughts are interrupted by our son waking up so I bury my feelings and my thoughts because I have to be okay, I can’t let my kid see me not okay, isn’t that what being a mother is all about?

We sit on the couch and I ask my husband to join me.

My face is so hot and my stomach is doing backflips and I just want to cry looking at this man. I love him so much, how could he do this to me? But do I even want to know?

“Did you cheat on me?” I just flat out say it. What’s the point of wasting time? If I look at him any longer I’ll keep remembering how much I love him and then I’ll just give in, I know I will.

He looked shocked that I just asked like that, then he stared at me in my eyes for about 1 minute and immediately put his head down.

My heart sank. I let out a small sigh, looked down at my kid and there was the tears. I knew. He told me all I needed to know without saying a single wrong.

I had so much I wanted to say but did he deserve for me to say anything? 10 years of marriage so I felt that I deserved to speak and I needed an explanation but I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about my husband with another woman. Kissing, touching, being intimate with another woman that’s not me, his wife.

My eyes felt so low but I still looked up at him. He locked eyes with me and suddenly I saw a different person, I didn’t know him.

“I love you” he said to me, his voice choking up.

Why does it hurt me to see him hurting and upset? But I don’t know why, He hurt me. He betrayed me.

“I have so much to say and even though I don’t think I should be doing the talking, I also don’t want to hear you explain it to me because that will hurt me even more” I say. I wanted to ask you do you love me? Did our family mean anything to you? How could you ever look at someone the way you are only supposed to look at me and then come home to me? I wanted to ask that but I know you will tell me that you love me, our family means everything to you and that the affair was nothing to you and that it will never happen again but I know that it is not the truth because If it was you would never be able to do this to me” I tell him while crying. I didn’t want to cry but how could I not?

“I love you” he repeats while looking at me. “I’m sorry, I never wanted this for our son, we always said together forever and that he would see that.”

“His dad stepped out.” I bluntly say.

He wipes his face. There goes the tears. Now I’m getting angry, how are you crying when you broke our family apart?

I look at him and I can tell he is about to say something.

“You will always be the woman that was made for me. You gave me my son, a family and a new life. Some men dream about having the life I have, some men would kill for it and I took it for granted. I knew what I was doing and I didn’t stop it, I knew my family was at home and I continued it and I knew it would hurt you and a part of me didn’t care but also knew I would lose my family so I tried to hide it. “ he says.

Ouch. It hurts so bad to hear him say this but I also know it’s the truth.

“ Thank you for your honesty. I just don’t understand” I reply. We were fine one day. What did I do? What changed?

“Don-“ he tried to speak.

“What did I do to make you fall out of love with me? To make you not care about us? It’s not just me you should’ve thought about. We brought a child into this world and you should’ve thought about him, you didn’t think about him!” I cried.

“Stop blaming yourself.” He tried to move closer to me but I put a hand up to stop him.

“No. Don’t do that. You’re wrong.” I say.

He moves back to his original spot on the couch.

“Are you leaving?” He asks me. “Taking him with you?”

I look down at my son and my heart hurt. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves for us to be a happy family and I can’t even look at my husband because I never wanted this, I don’t want our family to not be together every day but I can’t stay here, it won’t be the same.

“Yes” I tell him softly. “You know I don’t want you to feel like I am taking him from you.”

“You are, I don’t want to be without him or you.” He sits up.

“I have no choice. We talked about this before and we had a solution we both agreed on so it is not my fault you forgot about that when you decided you didn’t care to keep your family anymore.” I sharply tell him.

“Stay.” he tells me.

“No.”

“I love you.” He puts his head in his hands. “I love you.” He repeats with his head down.

“No.”

“You want to take my kid and figure it out but I don’t want to be without you.”

“Stop.” I say.

“You’re begging me to stay after you cheated on me. You’re selfish. You are still not thinking about me or our son. You were here but not here. You didn’t treat us like you loved us or wanted a family but here you are acting like you are going to miss us so bad and we aren’t even gone yet. It’s not easy for me to leave, it’s so fucking hard to look you in the eye, tell you we’re leaving and come to terms with it because I was present, I always thought about you and our kid. I don’t care for your apology because you haven’t said much about you cheating, just begging me to stay. Stop.” I say to him.

“How did you find out?” He asked me softly.

“I always knew.” I tell him. “I always knew because I was always alone, slept alone, woke up alone, watched our son grow alone, and ate dinner alone. I shouldn’t be alone if I have a husband so where is my husband? I knew right away. For the sake of our family, I always wanted to get it out of my head but the signs were all there.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you and I’m sorry I am the reason we are like this.” He tells me.

“Tell that to him.” I say to him as I stand up with our son and head to the bedroom.

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