#*sobs* so much shading *cries*

[catinasink]

art project :>

@fungal-boy-witch-yay drew you again :3

[nkogneatho]

𝐻𝐴𝑈𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸

—a/n: hii i am pasi and i like to make people cry and suffer.

He didn't mean it. right?

"You are so fucking insufferable. My wife was so much better than you. You can never be like her."

It stung you. your heart raced faster as fear, panic and pain seeped in your blood. You and toji had gotten into a petty arguement earlier. It was only a matter of time before it turned into a full fledged fight the way none of you were backing down. usually, you both would've just been mad for a few hours before apologizing to each other—although your apologies were in the form of long hugs and favorite food—but this one took the worst turn.

The room was silent for thirty seconds after the words left his mouth. Tears threatened your eyes. To be honest, you did not even have the energy to put a fight with them. So you just let them fall.

"I know." You finally spoke but it was a broken whimper. "I know, dammit." You bit your lips, holding in your loud cries. You wanted to sob till the neighbors knew something was wrong, but you suppressed them. "I can never be like her. She was perfect. She was beautiful. She—she would never get on your nerves like me." You stammered between sentences. "I get it. I respect her." Toji looked at you with raging eyes, his adrenaline still hadn't calmed down but you could spot regret when his brow softened a little.

"But, honestly toji...I don't give a fuck about being like her. I never tried to be. All I tried was to— to love you more that her so you could know your worth after you lost her." Every cell in your body tried to gather as much courage as it could to just stand there and being able to say this.

All the anger in his suddenly had vanished, replaced with regret and hatred for himself. He never wanted to make you feel like this. He never wnated to fuck this up, and make you cry. But now he had. He let his hand reached you, only to notice your leg stepping backward.

"I am never going to be enough, right? Fuck. I can't do this."

"No. Don't say it—"

"I think it's time I leave." Feet rushing towards you, his steps heavier.

"Don't say that. Fuck I am so sorry. I didn't mean it, baby. I..." Broken sobs left your lips. He wanted to kiss them away, but he didn't know if he could right now. Big thumb brushed away your thick tears, palm resting against your cheek. He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. Placing your body on the grey mattress, he climbed on the bed, laying next to you with your head on his arms. There were no words exchanged for the rest of the night. When your sobs stopped, he kissed your forehead as you passed out from exhaustion. The sight bought him both peace and pain. He promised himself that he will make it up to you tomorrow.

The sun was brighter the next morning, or at least that is what Toji felt when the sun rays coming from the window fell directly on his body. Usually, he'd wake up to the shade of your body. His eyes widened as he hastily sat up, finding you nowhere on the bed.

"No. No. No. Please."

He rushed to the bathroom, but it was empty. Kitchen? Empty. Hall? Empty. Wait. He moved closer to the coffee table when he caught a glimpse of what seemed like a note.

"Thank you for everything and I am sorry I wasn't enough. Goodbye Toji."

A loud thud emerged as Toji's kness met the floor, clueless eyes scanning the room. It qas more silent than usual. The kind of silence that was killing him. Has it always been this quiet?

[noxtivagus]

i love love ffxiv sm fr (to the edge)

[sonarspace]

deception, nanami

content: mdni. angst. soft sex. breeding kink (? kinda) wc: 1.1k a/n: trying to get out of my writing slump but it’s bad! so here’s this…

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

nanami’s laying in your arms when he gets a call from ijichi telling him he needs to be at shibuya in an hour. and instantly you’re being filled with dread. “don’t leave,” you tell him as soon as he hangs up the phone.

but he’s already buttoning up his shirt. you huff a frustrated breath and follow him to the bathroom where he fixes his blonde locks.

“don’t go, please” you try again your voice breaking. his eyes meet yours through the mirror. your lips wobble as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. he turns around his eyes creased in worry. “darling, what’s wrong?” his voice’s sweet and soft dripping honey with every word he speaks.

“i’m scared,” you voice your worries into his chest – wetting his blue shirt with your salty tears. he tilts your face to meet his eyes. you’re quietly sobbing now – eyes red and nose turning a shade darker.

“don’t leave me,” your melancholic voice tugs at his heart. he can’t leave them when they need him the most. “i have to, it’s urgent.” he just says in return. it was hurting him to see you like this. be away from you in this state.

“no, ken, please” you drag out the word. his lips match your downturned lips. he hated not doing what you asked of him but this was different. he had people relying on him – the higher ups, his colleagues, the students, the first years…

he drops his head to yours in defeat. his fingers brush away the tears streaking your cheeks. “take me with you,” you request. “you’re pregnant,” he retorts. “so what, i can protect us,” you argue back. your technique similar to gojo’s, allows you to create an invisible barrier. the only difference was, you could include other people.

“i’m not even sure what’s happening there but i don’t wanna risk your safety.” he says placing his hand on your bump. he feels a light kick against his hand and smiles. “it’ll make you use too much cursed energy, there are too many people there,” he adds. “ken,” you’re about to say but you feel another kick – harder this time. as if telling you to listen to him.

he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. a part of him hurts as he lies “i’ll come back”.

“i love you kid,” he whispers as he places a kiss against your stomach. “i love you,” he tells you. holding your face firmly and placing a kiss against your lips — once, twice, and finally a third time. “i’m going to marry you when i get back,” he murmurs against your lips eliciting a teary laugh from your lips.

“promise,” you ask. “promise”. he vows.

but he doesn’t come back that night. or the night after. and you know it was normal for him to take a day or two for missions but the lack of texts and calls has you crying into his pillow. a text chimes from other side of the room. you get up and move quickly — shoko’s name on your screen. you feel like your heart going to jump out of your throat. this can’t be good.

shoko: i’m so sorry.

and you don’t need to read more cause your worst fear has come true. the phone slips out of your hand and hits the floor with a loud clack. you follow as your knees buckle and a weeping “no” erupts your throat.

you gasp for air through your cries. a set of arms pulls you into a hug. “i’m here, i’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “baby, i’m here.” he says again – louder this time. you calm down slightly pulling away from the embrace to see the face of the man you love so dearly.

“kento,” your voice cracks. a hand reaching up to touch his face. was he real? you feel his freshly trimmed hair prick your fingertips as your trace his face freely. his pink lips that kiss you and mark you like a canvas, his slender nose that nudges against yours playfully, & his brown eyes that never failed to take your breath away. “kento,” you say once again.

“yes, baby.” his eyes twinkle with love for you. “are you real,” you ask hazy from sleep. “i’m real,” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “you had another nightmare,” he cups your face and wipes away dried tears from your cheeks.

“i’m here. i’m okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” he confirms. you sigh against his hand. his cold ring presses against your cheek and you’re reminded you’re married — have been married for a year.

you lay your head on his chest and he rubs your back comfortingly. “i was pregnant in my dream and you weren’t there”. he huffs in return. “and that’s why it’s just a dream. i’d never leave you. much less when you’re pregnant.” you smile into his chest.

“i want a baby,” you say. his body rumbles under yours with joyous laughter. “yeah?” he asks with a grin – his thumb under your chin pulling your face up to face him. “yeah,” you kiss him.

he kisses you back. his hand moves down to your neck – rubbing over your quickening pulse. you pull back and let his oversized button up fall off your shoulders. the slightly opened windows lets in a gentle breeze and hugs your body. the night sky is filled with moving pink clouds.

the sound of salty waves from outside, along with nanami’s gasping moan fills your ears as you lower yourself onto him. “ahhh,” your plushy walls are snug around his cock, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought.

before you can move too much, he flips you over. as much as he loved seeing you on top of him, he loved having you underneath him even more. loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusts into you. the way your lips parted in moans and whines of his name.

“ken,” you whimper. he drops his head into your neck. kissing and biting at your soft skin. lolling out his tongue to soothe a bite. you wrap your arms around him. your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace. the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter at the way his cock pushes against that sweet spot in you – turning your brain to mush and leaving your sentences incomplete.

your legs shake around his waist as you cum with a loud cry of his name. “you sure you want me to fill you up” he asks as you calm down from your orgasm. “filthy girl,” he teases when you nod with his fingers occupying your mouth. a muffled yes is all he needs to dump ropes and ropes of his seed deep into you. he pulls out his fingers from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue.

“we’re gonna make a baby,” he groans happily into your mouth.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[yunnimilk]

৻ꪆ - AMAB ! Aventurine x AMAB ! Male ! Top ! Reader !

DRABBLE !!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT !

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | Imagine seeing this beautiful young man at a bar. His shiny, blonde hair exhibited the light of the chandelier hanging over the table, completed covered in silk and velvet with his golden jewelry, the man spotted you in the corner of his eye. He smirks at you and motions for you to come over , ∑(ﾉ)ﾟдﾟ(ヾ)

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | Imagine the conversation getting sensual, his finger dragging down your chest, you leaning in more while you were flirting with him. You learn that the handsome stranger's name is ' Aventurine ', his skin was turning into a flushed red when you complimented his name. Your hand riding up his thigh, telling him ' let's talk more in private~ ', to which Aventurine almost immediately agrees to . ༼⸝⸝⸝ʚ̴̶̷̆ɷʚ̴̶̷̆⸝⸝༽

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | One thing led to another and you were fucking his brains out, the force of your thrusting making him sob out in pleasure everytime. Crying from how rough you were but it was all muffled from how he clung onto the pillow in delight. He came for the 5th time, his ass red from your hips slapping it everytime you went balls deep in his hole ! (๑و•̀Δ•́)و✧

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | His precious make-up smeared on the pillow, while his nails clawed the bed sheets. Aventurine's hair was disheveled which was a result from you pulling his hair during sex ! His tight walls clamped down on your fat cock as you felt electricity coursing through your veins, you were about to cum ! ( ⁼̴̤̆◡̶͂⁼̴̤̆ )

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | You ran your hand up and down his hip, making him clench and unclench uncontrollably, " so the slut likes being touched huh? Well if you like it so much, I'll give you more~ ", you slapped his ass, it turned into a crimson shade for a second, it nestled for a strawberry red instead. His cries became even louder, " AH! I'M GONNA!- AH! FUCK!~ " his hand reached for your hips to slow you down a bit, but it was futile, you were going so fast since you were reaching your climax ! ヽ(ﾟﾛﾟ; )!!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | Aventurine came so good, his walls turning unbearably narrow when he released. Your cock was suffocated in there, your balls twitched while you came inside his puffy hole, pleasure seeping over you , (*´ ˘ `*)

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ | You fell on the left side of the bed, the impact of having sex made you extremely tired. You were about to fall asleep until you felt a wet sensation on your dick, you groaned and saw who the perpetrator was. Aventurine smiled with his fucked out face and heart eyes, licking your cock, " how about we go for another round ?~ ", you smirk,,

" you dirty little slut "

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Untitled

Author's Note: Not requested of me specifically, but I did promise to write a lil something something featuring Michi and rougher sex. So, here it is!

Pairings: Takemichi x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Takemichi, rough sex, dacryphilia, pillow princess Michi, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation

Tagging: @wazabii @hxpel3s5-slxxt (if you'd like your tag removed please lmk!)

“Aah-!” Another shrill scream bounces off the walls of his bedroom, proceeded by a sharp slap.

Your ragged panting is barely audible over the sound of your hips beating Takemichi's ass — his skin turning an even deeper shade of pinkish red with every collision.

“Fuck, haha... look at you, baby,” you rasped, “look at you taking me nice 'n deep like that. I told ya you'd be able to handle this dick.”

The words didn't quite make it past his lips, instead turning into a whimper that tumbled out when Takemichi tried to protest. He's always so coy — "nooo it won't fit! You're way too big!" he'd say, despite the fact that you regularly wreck his holes. I mean, yeah, you were pretty thick down there, but your partner has proven time and time again that that's not much of a problem.

Even now, as his nails dig into his sheets and tears stain them, Takemichi's walls grip you like a vice; pulling your cock further inside with every motion. And the way his once coherent speech turns into babbles, all because you're rearranging his insides? Priceless.

“Ah fuck-! Mm yeah, take it, baby. Take daddy's cock-” It's all the little slut can do to keep his hips up in the air; his legs may as well have become jelly at this point with the way his thighs shake when you pull back — nearly pulling out — then snap back as if there's some magnetic pull between you two.

Your little pillow princess is full-on sobbing as his teeth grind against the fabric of his sheets. Yet another slap to his ass and Takemichi somehow cries harder, getting choked on his own spit.

Meanwhile, you have been holding back, desperate not to cum just yet so that you can stay inside your lil princess for a while longer. But that ache deep inside of you has only built up, exacerbated by Takemichi's tight hole wrapped around your dick. If only he didn't feel so fucking good, then maybe tonight could last a little longer...

“Gonna fuckin' cum... Hah... Where does my little whore want it, huh?”

No response. Only a drawn out whine where Takemichi's face is buried in the mattress.

You can't stifle the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “Inside it is, then. Ngh-!”

With a few more deep thrusts, you finally explode inside your partner — gushing white, hot ropes that fill him up as you grab a handful of his hair and push his head down further, cutting off the pathetic thing's oxygen for a moment.

“O-ooh shit... haha... damn, baby, you took everything I had, didn't ya?” You tease, exhaling the breath you'd held in during your climax.

Your hands slid down your darling's back, moving towards his hips to rub soothing circles on the skin, then roaming over more of his smaller body — Takemichi's breathing steadies as you do this, gradually calming down until his muscles release their held tension. After a moment, you pull out, leaving your partner's hole gaping, as you usually do, and leaking a fat glob of your cum.

Rolling over onto his side, Takemichi searches for your hand; which you happily oblige him, and meet his touch. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles and you lean down to kiss them before laying down next to him.

“You ok?”

He nods. “Mhm... felt really nice...”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him blink lazily; best to help him over to the bathroom before he falls asleep, or before you fall asleep, for that matter. And after you're both cleaned up and relaxed, you'll have a little rest together.

Before you roll over and out of his bed, you place a tender kiss on Takemichi's forehead, giggling along with him.

[misswynters]

Fragmented Memory

[warning: pure angst and sadness, jace crying

[note | this is my first time writing pure angst… i think 💭 that’s crazy -anya

You woke up in the healer's tent, your head pounding and the world a blur. Faces hovered over you, but none of them sparked recognition. One face, however, stood out—a man with eyes filled with worry and pain.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

You searched your mind, but it was like grasping at shadows. "I... I don't know you," you stammered, guilt twisting in your chest as you saw his face fall.

"I'm Jacaerys," he said softly, tears brimming in his eyes. "We've been through so much together."

Despite his words, there was nothing—no spark of recognition, no comforting memory to hold onto. "I'm sorry," you whispered, hating the blank slate your mind had become.

In the days that followed, Jacaerys tried to rekindle your past by sharing stories and moments you had once cherished. He spoke of moonlit dances and whispered promises, but none of it brought back your memory. You tried to listen, to grasp at the fragments of your shared history, but it all felt distant and unreal.

One evening, as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of sorrow, Jacaerys sat beside you, holding your hand. "Even if you never remember," he said, his voice breaking, "I'll love you. I always will."

You squeezed his hand, a small gesture of comfort you couldn't fully comprehend. You wished you could be the person he remembered, the one he loved. But all you could offer was your presence, a shadow of who you used to be.

As the stars appeared, Jacaerys rested his head on your shoulder, the warmth of your body a bittersweet reminder of what you both had lost. He whispered stories of your past, of your first kiss under a starlit sky, of the promises you made by the roaring sea. His words were filled with love and longing, each one a dagger to your heart.

You could see the pain in his eyes every time he looked at you, the hope that flickered and died with each passing day. He spoke of your bravery in battle, of the way you held him when he cried, of the laughter you shared. But it all felt like someone else's life, someone else's love.

The next morning at the break of dawn, as the moonlight streamed through the tent, Jacaerys broke down, tears streaming down his face. "I miss you so much," he sobbed, his voice filled with anguish. "I miss us."

You held him, feeling his pain as if it were your own. You wished you could remember, to give him the solace he so desperately needed. But all you had were empty promises and a heart that ached for something you couldn't recall.

As the nights grew colder, you watched Jacaerys's hope slowly fade. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep, unrelenting sorrow. He stayed by your side, his love unwavering, but you could see the toll it took on him.

As the hours passed by, you looked at Jacaerys, his face etched with the lines of sleepless nights and endless worry. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice heavy with regret. "I'm sorry I can't remember."

He smiled weakly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "I'll always love you, no matter what."

You pulled him close, wishing you could be the person he deserved. As you held him, you felt a faint flicker of something—perhaps a memory, or maybe just the ghost of a forgotten love. But it was enough to hold onto, even if it was fleeting.

In your mind, flashes of the battle came unbidden, chaotic and jumbled. You had ridden into the fray beside Jacaerys, your swords cutting through the enemy forces. The clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filled the air. It was in the midst of this chaos that it happened—a heavy blow to the back of your head. You had been thrown from your horse, the world spinning into darkness.

When you woke up, the memories of who you were, and who you loved, had vanished. Now, as Jacaerys held you, the echo of that fateful day lingered in your mind—a ghost of a past you couldn’t grasp, but one that had forever changed your future. Your heart aches and is missing something however you don’t know what that is. All you can hope is for your memory to come back, if that’s even possible.

[a/n: i let out a tear…

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @spn-obession @beebeechaos

banner: @cafekitsune

[feyascorner]

Astarion who gets a cat after his lover succumbs to time.

He’s lost most of his desires for companionship. He prefers to lounge around what was your shared home all day, reading or taking care of things you left behind—like plants or belongings that need consistent attention. He remains as put together as he’s always been. Clean clothes, perfect hair, and a neat home. However, he doesn't dare to go into your room. No, that’s something he's silently sworn to never touch, fearing that he might taint the last of your mark on this cursed world.

He doesn't go out much anymore. He doesn't really see the point when you're not there to make the adventures truly fun. When you're not there to pull him out of stupid decisions like you always have.

So instead, a visitor comes to him each day. It’s a mangy thing, this cat. A bit chubby with legs on the shorter side, but by the gods if the thing isn't capable of jumping higher than his height. The first time he sees it loitering around his house, Astarion approaches it because its fur is the same shade as your hair. Quickly he realizes the thing hates him, because it practically attacks him with its claws.

Still, as time goes on, it begins to grow on him. No matter how many times he shoos it off, it comes back (albeit angrier) and wanders until Astarion feeds it a fish. Eventually, the cat is able to walk freely inside the home too, and Astarion won't freak out about the fur getting everywhere.

The cat is his only friend—if you could call it that. It sits beside him as he reads, paces alongside him as he cleans the house, and Astarion finds himself petting the damn thing while it sleeps. He still hasn't given it a name, and calls it “cat” which it doesn't seem to mind.

One day, it wanders into your room. Astarion freaks at first, suddenly yelling at it for to leave, but seeing the poor thing shrink away from him makes him sigh. He takes his first step into your room since your passing and finally takes it in. Your clothes, your bed, your scent. Everything feels distant now. Somehow it feels like you're still here when he's standing in the room.

But you're long gone, he thinks as he clutches onto one of your jackets. His fists clench around the fabric. You’ve left him to rot alone for the rest of his immortal life. But he's never asked for forever. He only wanted as much time as he could squeeze out with you.

Is that so much to ask?

There was so much to do.

So much he wanted to show you.

When fat tears land onto your jacket, his eyes widen. He didn't cry. Astarion never cried. Not even at your funeral, where everyone gave him pitying eyes did he feel water well up in his eyes. He's thought to have long lost that ability in the years he spent under Cazador. Yet here he was, crying like a child who'd just lost their mother at a carnival.

Something brushes against his leg. The cat again. It rubs it's face against his calf and he notices how soft it feels. He remembers how soft you'd felt in his arms. How kind and warm you were. How you'd been the sole light in his wretched, cursed life.

Dammit.

And then, he's sobbing. No longer crying, but wailing as he collapses onto his knees in your room, emotions built over years of lost mourning coming out all at once. He holds the cat, because holding your jacket makes his hands shake terribly. And it doesn't scratch and meow at him once in the hours it seems he cries pitifully on the ground.

This cursed cat, he thinks hours later, when he's lying on your bed with it sprawled on his chest. He has half the mind to kick it off, but refrains—a repayment for earlier.

It nuzzles against his hand.

Astarion decides then that he'd keep it. That until he'd be able to join you, he'd keep this one companion by his side.

[luveline]

Hey if you're still taking requests could I get any sort if angst to comfort for zombie au steve? Been feeling down lately and I've always loved that series!

ty for requesting! zombie au. fem, 1.5k

The new pencils are oil-cored, as opposed to his last ones, which had been wax. They were just fine, but these oil pencils allow him to blend colours and shades with more finesse than ever. He can pour twenty different colours into the tone of your skin and have them blend into a real, phototechnical you. 

He’s pretty proud of this one. 

He wakes up first every morning, allowing for time where you’re unaware and he’s got nothing to do. He’s sketched you so many times it comes naturally. Steve probably wouldn’t need to look, but watching you sleep is half the joy of drawing you. 

You're drooling a little. 

Steve puts the handful of pencils he’d been using to colour your neck back into his pen case. He puts the case and his sketchbook on top of his main bag, shoving it into a corner of your tent with the rest of the bags to climb back onto the bed. It’s a portable cushioning made for camping, and it’s nothing like a mattress, but it is much kinder to your backs than sleeping on the ground. Warmer, too. 

He pushes your head back, knowing it will wake you, his thumb to the little drool line to wipe it away, his palm on your cheek to hold it. 

“Hello.” He kisses your other cheek as your lashes twitch. Doesn’t even think about not doing it. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” you mumble strangely. 

“What’s that?” he says, soft to match your quiet. His breath kisses your lips. “What’s wrong? You sound sad.” 

You force your eyes apart, and you feel along the mattress with your hand. Steve watches in real time as your eyes fill with tears, huge, heavy tears that well in the corner of your left and spill from the right to wet the pillow under your head. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, the effort expended to stay calm so gutting he has to squeeze the pillow just shy of your head. 

You grab for him, blankets and your half-open sleeping bag crinkling but not too thick to feel the force of your fingers gripping his sides. 

You must’ve had a bad dream, that’s what he thinks. He’s had enough of them, and he’s unfortunately cried after almost all of them. Sometimes you’ve seen it, sometimes you haven’t, but you look at him with love no matter what —he can forget dreams of losing you when you’re murmuring niceness in his ear, and he can give it back to you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, letting you squeeze him hard. “Don’t cry.” And that’s a little awkward of him, that sneaking panic, but he’s never claimed to be a professional. 

You cry in a weird breath that borders a gag. “I’m so-sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I have bad dreams too. You know that.” 

Steve attempts to get both arms behind your shoulders, pulling you into him, sitting you up. He can’t cope with how quickly you’ve fallen apart. To wake up crying, how scary the dream must’ve been, he hates it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. 

“It was a good dream,” you say. 

Steve frowns. “Okay, so what’s the problem?” 

“We had a house. We had a dog. I don’t– don’t even know if you like cats, but you had a dog, and we,” —you sob between words, not too loudly as to travel far, but aching— “were planning a trip. It felt so real, Steve. You were so happy.” 

Steve tries to process it as fast as he can. “Oh,” he says softly, hand lax where it had been rubbing your shoulder. 

“You were so happy,” you say again, burying the tip of your nose into his neck. You’re practically crawling atop him, but he’s strong enough to stop you from laying him down. 

“It’s okay, honey. Jesus,” he says, patting your back again. “It’s alright. It’s okay.” 

“We’ll never have those things.” 

“Baby, who says so?” he asks in a murmur. 

“We’ll never get to go anywhere together–”

“It feels like we’ve seen pretty much all of America,” he says. He’s joking, but travelling with you from place to place has felt expansive. You’ve seen forests and lakes, a thousand different houses, hundreds of neighbourhoods, and street art and installations and billboards for movies that were never screened. Steve’s seen about as much of the world as he wants to see. “I’d just stay in this tent with you forever if they let us, we don’t need to go anywhere else.” 

“You wanted to see palm trees,” you say, sniffling and pained as your tears warm the curve of his trap. 

“I’ve seen them,” Steve says. “Don’t worry. I’ve already seen palm trees. A whole bunch of them. Don’t worry about what I wanted in the dream, it was just a dream.” 

He gives you a quick kiss, his lips to the very edge of your temple. 

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” 

Steve nods. He draws from you reluctantly and opens the tent, ushering you on knees to sit out in the cool air. He sits next to you, dewdrops from the grass wetting his jeans, the sky a humming of early morning colours; the sun rises in bands of orange and raspberry pink, darkness above, sun rays kissing the sides of tents and the portables in the distance. 

You take deep breaths. Steve holds your hand, the two of you looking up at the strange sky. 

“We’ll never be that happy,” you say. 

Steve can hear your agony, and he knows what you mean. He thinks of that life with you and never lets himself think far. You would've gone to college, maybe, and Steve would’ve drove to visit you —he would’ve moved. Maybe in your second year you’d live together in a suburb just between college and his job, whatever it is he’d ended up doing, in a house you chose, with a ring on your finger. Steve wants kids but if you don’t then perhaps you’d have had none, but he still likes to picture you with your babies, a big family, years later. And maybe he’d have a dog. A silly looking one with bark worse than its bite. 

And you’d be together. You would be happy. Nothing to hurt you. Nothing to lose you to. You’d never worry where your next meal was coming from, you’d never feel cold. 

Steve breathes out. Sniffs biting air. “We’ll never be that happy. That kind of happy. We’re never gonna go on trips, maybe we won’t ever have a house, but–“ He pulls your hand toward him, your eyes latching on to his. “But maybe we will. We might not get to watch cable, but we can have a tv, in a living room. We can live together, and maybe we will take trips. I don’t know. I don’t know what we’ll have, but I’m already happy. You don’t have to cry about me being happy.” He shakes his head. “Shit, you shouldn’t. I want that life with you so much I dream about it too, but I have this one.” 

“You think we’ll have a house?” you ask hopefully. 

“We can’t live like this forever.” He’s promising it. “Something has to give.” 

“I want us to have more,” you say. 

A weak confession, your cheeks wet with tears but eyes thankfully drying, your eyelids puffy already from sleep and crying alike. Steve wants you to have everything, even if everything is a stupid thing to think you’ll have. 

“We will.” Steve closes one eye, a sort of prolonged wink of pain as his nose wrinkles. “But this is enough for now, right?” 

“No.” 

You’re kidding, to Steve’s relief. 

He laughs and elbows you, glad to see your smile as you evade poorly. “Say it’s enough!” 

“No way.” 

You don’t wait for him to pull you in or ask if it’s alright, flopping without ceremony into his lap, and then turning toward him to hug his stomach. He looks down at you fondly, hand rubbing up your warm back. You’re still clammy from sleeping, but you’re not crying anymore. 

“It’s really cold out here.” 

“I know.” He blows a warm breath in your ear. “Do you still feel sick? Don’t barf in my lap.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve. It just felt so real.” 

His voice turns to a silky whisper he’s only ever used in love. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. We never would’ve… I’d never get to be here,” —you squeeze him around the waist— “if we were in a world where we also get the house and the dog and… the family…” 

“But it would’ve been nice,” Steve finishes, looking up from your back to watch as the raspberry bands of pink turn to blue. 

“It would’ve been perfect.” 

[fuxuannie]

Unrelated to any of the Kenji thirst I keep thinking to the moment where Kenji is real close to losing his shit because someone made the 'Where's the Japanese Version of the guy' in regards to him and like fuck it hit me hard. I'm mixed like to the point where people can't pin my ethnicity by looking at me and constantly being told I'm not x or y enough to be a member of a community by all rights I do belong to I just I really empathized with him in that moment. I'd love to see some head cannons on how he feels and deals with the "Not Japanese enough" allegations, how he feels about being back in his home country after being in America for so long just overall how he adjusts and navigates through that

❥﹒kenji sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — request (thank you so much !!)

✦. love mail — requester wherever you may be, you are loved and it’s heartbreaking you relate to such :( you and me both, but thank you for such a heart touching req 😞🫰.

✦. tags — NO SPOILERS, not super x reader focused but elements are there, based on writer’s own experiences, angst-ish (not sure?), mentions of discrimination

Adjusting to life back in Japan was.. no easy feat, really. It had been so long since he was home, it no longer felt right to call it that. He felt out of place in his own skin. No one could tell, after all – it was his charm. But after every game, after every interview, he goes home and feels more disappointed in himself with each day. His own language, it feels foreign on his tongue. Each word he says feels wrong. You’ll be there to reassure him that it’s been some time, of course he won’t be perfect. But that’s the issue; he’s not perfect. He should be. That’s what people expect of him.

Criticism came with the lifestyle, it was a guarantee. But for it to come from his own people? Ouch. It was bad enough that back in America, he was made fun of for his bare-bone English, now back in Japan it’s his barely coherent Japanese. He feels like wherever he goes, he has to feign confidence to not break down. He puts on those damn shades to hide the way his eyes start to tear up when things get too much. Sure, he had gone through shit. But how much can one man take till he starts to break? Kenji can tell you, it’s not a lot. It’s been years and he’s just had to act like it doesn’t affect him.

And if not for the way he speaks, of course they go for how he looks. Now Kenji will admit, he IS a confident man. He loves himself and his image, but he isn’t immune to insecurity, no one is. Your heart breaks whenever he cries in your arms, resting on top of you as he sobs into your chest. You try to soothe his worries, kissing each part of him that he feels insecure about, which ends up just being his whole face. It’s a harrowing sight to see. You just wished you could get rid of all his problems, because for one man to bear it all? It wasn’t fair for his poor soul.

Sometimes you’ll wake up to him watching his old games, he’ll ask you what’s wrong, but you don’t notice. Instead, you see little him and how he smiled. It confused you, the tape wasn’t even playing – it was just paused there. He had that typical smile that most kids had, full of teeth and eyes squinted because of how wide their smile was. You chuckle, he was so cute. You then look back at him, and you try to understand. “I-” He’ll start, running a hand through his hair. “I just.. I missed that smile. The people back in America.. they made fun of me so-” You ran into his arms, engulfing him in a hug that made him feel so warm and fuzzy. And he doesn’t realise it, but that moment brings back that smile. He’s just so happy with you he can’t help it.

I think that, all and all, he’s just had to become desensitised to everything. He just shuts down whenever someone says something about how he doesn’t fit in. You’ll defend him, but he tells you not to. It’s a waste of breath. You want to argue that it’s not, that he deserves to be defended, but his defeated look wins you over. He knows there’s no real way to stop them, so he’d rather focus on his practices or making you feel happy. Those are things that matter to him; not something as temporary as his appearance or mannerisms of speech. He’s accepted that, and his priority is your happiness and his. :)

For more lighthearted headcanons, if you were Japanese, you'd offer to help Kenji refresh on writing his Kanji and overall speaking, which he is more than happy to accept. Another case, if you aren't Japanese; he'll ask if you want to learn with him. He's overjoyed if you accept, it brings a positive association and motivation to relearn his language. It wasn't to just please people.

I imagine Ami had become a good friend to you and Kenji, so she offers to demonstrate all the mannerisms Kenji has perhaps forgotten (and you did too/want to learn as well) to help. You both appreciate her helpful hand, and treat her to good restaurants for dinner as thanks. :)

[miragemurder]

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Separated

Part 3 of Spotlight & Secret

Pairing: Veneer x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part three is here! Thank you guys so much for your support. Honestly didn’t expect this series to get far so I’m glad you guys enjoy! Velvet is kind of a bitch in this story so I’m sorry to all my Velvet lovers. I’m working on some smaller requests right now so please keep sending them in! Master list coming soon.<3 ★ ★ ★

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Run. Get away as fast as you can. That was the only thing you had on your mind when you first heard Velvet’s steps down the hallway. Secret. This has to be a secret, no one must know what just had happened. If you were caught making out with one of the biggest stars Mount Rageous had to offer it would be game over, for the both of you. You couldn’t risk Veneer’s whole career over one simple kiss.

You hurried down the hallway until you got out onto the main floor of the Rage Dome. You took in some deep breaths, trying to regain the air you just lost scurrying down the hallway. Looking around, you found the nearest bathroom and quickly walked in. Speeding to the mirror, you fixed up the hair you “accidentally” messed up and splashed your face with some water.

You looked up into the mirror and a moment of realization struck you. Veneer’s lipstick is waterproof. Your lips were stained the same shade of green his lipstick was. You tried everything you can to rub it off, using a towel, water, even your sleeve. Nothing. Sure the people out there would see the lipstick and think none of it, but you knew that Velvet would know, somehow or other. She always finds out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ugh where’s crimp? I told her to be at my vanity in ten and she’s not there!” Velvet walked into Veneer’s room, immediately making her presence known.

She looked over to Veneer who was frantically combing out his hair, making sure it looked just how it did before your two’s little session. She rose a brow, slowly walking over to her brother.

“Veneer, what’s up with you? Why are you acting so skittish and nervous?” Velvet questioned, approaching right behind him.

“Oh me? I’m fine! I don’t know what you mean, I’m totally fine. Nothing is wrong with me, I’m totally… perfectly… fine.” Ending his sentence, he slunk back into his chair. He quietly panicked, hoping everything looked normal.

Velvet squinted her eyes and watched Veneer through the mirror before twirling around his chair, having him face her. She brought her hand to his face, almost inspecting it.

“Your lipstick’s smudged.” She said softly in a stern tone. She looked him directly in the eye, furrowing her brows.

“Why is your lipstick smudged?” She slowly backed off him and crossed her arms. Veneer gulped, not knowing how to respond.

“Veneer.” Her voice rose. Clearly she knew something was up.

“Please sister I can explain!” Veneer frantically stood up, breaking his silence.

“Veneer you know the rules about this!” Velvet shouted, “Who did you have in here?” She took ahold of his collar, keeping a firm grasp.

“Answer me!” She screamed. Veneer flooded with panic, trying to push her hand off of him.

“It.. it was [_____]!” He cried, closing his eyes as he felt himself tear up. He was frozen in place, silently sobbing to himself. He knew he should act strong and stand up for himself but he all he felt was vulnerable.

Velvet let go of his collar and stood in silence, the feeling of rage seething out of her. Veneer opened his eyes slightly to watch his sister’s next move.

“I never want to see their face here again. If you know what’s good for you, you will delete their number and never speak to them again. I am not risking my dream for your emotions to get in the way. You know the rules, you can not have a relationship with a fan-“

“But they’re not a fan-“

“You will not!” Velvet yelled. This was the first Veneer had ever seen his sister so upset. He couldn’t move, all his emotions were crashing against each other like waves of the sea. He felt himself visibly shake as he looked into his sisters eyes.

“Get. Out.” He spoke. Velvet’s eyes grew wide at his sudden comment.

“I said get out!” He yelled. Velvet swiftly turned and exited his room. Veneer walked over to his couch, breaking out into tears. Why did he care this much? It was only a person he met a couple weeks ago. They haven’t even been dating yet he was enticed. He slowly curled up into a ball and sobbed into his knees, eventually drifting off.

Veneer woke up to the sound of a hard knock from his door. He hurried to get up and brush himself off, wiping away the tears that crusted away in his sleep.

“15 minutes.” The director yelled from behind the door. Veneer panicked, there was no way he was going to be able to get ready in time for the meet and greet. He quickly through on his shoulder padded top and ran out the door to his sisters room to find crimp.

Once he made it to her room he quickly knocked, huffing a little from the slight jog. Velvet opened her door, fully ready for the event.

“And what do you think you’re doing here?” Velvet questioned, raising a brow.

“I need Crimp to help me get ready.” Veneer sighed, still trying to catch his breath.

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not going.” Velvet hissed, walking out the door and passing him. Veneer turned to her, confused.

“What do you mean I’m not going?” He hurried to catch up to her.

“I mean clearly you’re not prepared. I also don’t want you and your “lover” to see each other.” Veneer paused, Velvet continuing to walk down the hall to go greet her fans.

Veneer stood silent, then slowly started walking back to his room. He felt like such a wreck. First, his lover had to hide away. Second, his sister found out. And now third, he wasn’t going to be able to visit his fans at the meet and greet. He walked into his room, closing the door and sat right in front of it. This is what he wanted but why did he feel so empty?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were exploring the rest of the Rage Dome until you saw a crowd off people waiting for something. You slowly walked over to inspect the crowd and to see what was happening. Suddenly, you heard a voice from a speaker go off.

“Please welcome, Velvet and Veneer!”

You rushed to push yourself to the front of the crowd, wanting to see Veneer. You watched as Velvet came out from behind the little stage they had going on. There was a set of stairs so one by one fans could greet their favorite Popstar. You watched as she walked to the center of the stage. You noticed that Veneer was gone and started questioning what was going on. Until Velvet noticed you and made a quick realization. She slowly walked over until she was fully in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, [____].”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guys, I really feel bad about this one I’m sorry. I felt like I did you guys dirty. It’s not my best work but I hope you guys enjoyed, I’m probably going through a mini writers block rn. I know Veneer was technically already “ready” in the last post but he cried and passed out, I feel like you would have to fix yourself up again after that. Also, Velvet very much knows everything about you and Veneer, she has her ways~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[interstellarflare]

I am cooking..................................

Here's a sneak peak at my next planned series for all you 'A Cinderella Story' lovers out there. You are not prepared....😇

Gif by @dearabsolutelynoone

"You have no idea what it is like to be a tarnished jewel in a room of diamonds. You do not know what it is like to be constantly looked over, in favour of those who shine brightest. All I have ever wanted is to be the object of your eye, for you to look at me the way you look at Cressida..."

"You have no idea what you are asking of me-"

"I ask nothing of you!" You cried, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. The stinging sensation forced you to blink, your heart aching with every breath you took. Your chest felt heavy, a small choked sob breaking through your lips as you trembled. It was raining heavier now, your dress and coat soaked right through. You hugged your arms close to your body, sniffling softly.

"I have loved you for so long, Benedict. My heart has always been yours, but you have never truly seen me. I have spent two seasons as nothing more than a wallflower, constantly looked over and never truly valued, never truly loved...when you called on me that day, my heart soared. I felt as if a fairytale was coming true, that perhaps you felt something for me as I did you. But you only called on me to tell me you were courting...her, and it was then I realised that you would never see me that way-"

"Y/n-"

"I understand that our friendship means the world to you..." You choked, the taste of bile forming in your mouth as you spat the word harshly "...but I cannot in good conscience, continue to be your friend when my heart yearns for you, when I crave your touch so much that it hurts...when I know you will never return these feelings."

Your watery gaze met Benedicts, your heart breaking when you realised how dishevelled he looked. His dark brown hair now black in the rain, stray strands sticking to his forehead as his soft blue eyes searched your face desperately. His green coat had turned a darker shade, the velvet damp and likely now ruined. He released a choked breath, his shoulders falling as he spoke confusedly. "What are you saying?" He asked lowly, his voice soft and breaking, hinting at what your next words would be. He really didn't want you to say it.

Your lips parted, breathing in shakily as you tried to hold yourself tall. You didn't want it to end like this, you didn't want to let go. You swallowed thickly, the lump in your throat choking you as you replied "...I'm saying this is-"

Benedict closed the distance, cupping both sides of your face as he smashed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. Your eyes squeezed closed as you savoured this moment, the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands now tangled in your hair. The feeling of your heart breaking in two. You brought your hands up to steady yourself against his chest, grasping his coat collar greedily as Benedict deepened the kiss. His tongue clashed with yours desperately, you allowed youself to get caught up in the feeling of him before you gently pulled away, resting your forehead against his as you panted heavily.

"Please...don't say it" Benedict begged, his voice low and barely above a whisper. Another choked sob escaped you as you met his eyes, your heart aching as your grip on his coat loosened.

"Goodbye, Ben".

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[sabyfangirl]

Stay With Me

Summary:

Let's just say that sometimes, when you're having an atrocious night, you need that special someone to be there for you...

“Chris!” Martin called for his brother. “Chris?!”

He was nowhere to be found.

Martin was running through a forest, unlike any other forest he’d ventured in before. He dodged branches, jumped over fallen tree trunks... It seemed as though the trail would never end.

The sun was shining through the tree leaves, making his surroundings all but beautiful. Yet, it all felt so... ominous.

Finally, he slowed to a stop. He thought he had caught a familiar shade of green from the corner of his eye.

Maybe even a hint of red.

He backed up and went to take a look.

…

His face dropped at the sight of his brother lying unmoving on the ground, like a marionette with no puppeteer.

“CHRIS!!!” Martin cried out as he dropped to his knees.

He quickly held his little brother in his lap, and nearly screamed at the sight of blood covering his abdomen. It didn’t take long before his shirt got stained, though it was the least of his worries at the moment as he was too busy trying to put pressure on the wound.

Chris gave a faint whimper. His eyes were closed, almost in a lifeless way…

With a bloody, shaky hand, Martin felt his brother’s pulse: it was weak. Nearly non-existent.

“No, no, no- ” In a wave of panic, Martin held his brother’s face close to his. “Chris, look at me. Look at me, I’m right here!” He begged him as he swiftly brushed his brother’s hair back. He held his hand tight, heavy tears forming in his eyes.

Only two barely audible coughs came out.

“Y-You’re gonna be just fine, I-I promise!” his voice cracked hard.

What even happened? Was it a wild animal?!

“M-Martin…”

Martin gasped softly hearing his brother’s frail voice.

With the little strength he had left, Chris forced his eyes half-open, barely . He was terrifyingly pale; he had lost a lot of blood…

He met his brother’s tormented gaze and, without a word, he simply smiled bittersweetly.

Martin’s eyes grew wide.

No. This couldn’t be happening .

“Chris…” Martin shook his head, his little brother still smiling at him. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris’ eyes began to close, his hand gradually losing grip on his brother’s.

“Chris?”

Finally, his fingers were resting on the edges of his brother’s palm.

Martin was left staring at his little brother’s lifeless face, eyes wide from shocked despair.

“Christopher…” A pained cry escaped his chest. “Don’t do this to me, bro. Come on…” He gave his body a vain shake. “No, no…” His voice was feeble, nearly broken.

With trembling hands, Martin slowly cupped his little brother’s bloody face. His poor, precious little brother . His tears began to pour down harder than they ever did. He gasped silently as he buried his brother’s numb face in his shoulder. He soothingly ran his hand through his hair, his lips pressed against his forehead. His glassy eyes wandered into nothingness as he painfully processed the fact that he was no longer there, no longer with him.

“No, no, no… Please. Please, don’t do this.”

Eventually, his sobs became louder and interminable, tightly hugging his dear little brother’s limp body in his arms, his tears falling onto his hair.

“ Oh, God. ”

He could already feel the crushing weight of grief pushing down on him, life seeming to have lost all meaning all of a sudden.

“Please, God. No…”

What would he do without him?!

His companion. His best friend.

The world around him began to spin, his tears blinding him from looking at his brother’s face. Then-

“AH!”

Martin’s head was pounding. His entire body was soaked with sweat. He was gasping for air, clenching his chest hard. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest any moment. Tears were stinging his eyes and staining his face. Heavily disoriented, he couldn’t even make out where he was, and the darkness in the room didn’t help much.

“Martin?”

He suddenly heard him, his eyes growing wide in the dark. That voice .

As he looked to the side, Martin found a pair of brown eyes glowing in the dark. He wanted to say something, but it almost felt like his voice had been stolen. He was paralyzed .

He sensed someone getting out of bed on the other side of the room.

Click .

A night lamp was turned on.

Chris, who looked very much alive , went over to check on his brother. As he sat on the side of his bed, Martin’s eyes remained fixated on his brother’s visage.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked with concern, as his brother only stared at him like he was a ghost. “Martin, you’re kind of freaking me out,” his voice cracked a little.

Martin was pale as a sheet. His eyes scanned Chris’ abdomen: no blood.

At that moment, the image of his brother’s blood-covered body flashed before his eyes.

“ AHH! ” he let out a loud, panicked CRY .

“Martin!” Chris immediately tried to calm him down.

Martin kept screaming, hot tears flowing down his face.

“HEY! Hey, I’m here. You’re okay. Breathe. Breathe.” Chris held his brother’s hands tight, trying to look into his eyes.

“I-I can’t! I can’t!” Martin was practically gasping for air.

“I’m right here, shh…” Chris slowly leaned in for a hug. He gently rocked him back and forth, just like Martin always does to him when he’s in distress.

It took a while, but Martin finally started to calm down a bit, his eyes now bloodshot from all his tears. He held onto his little brother as if the whole world was about to fall apart.

It was a miracle that none of the crew members had woken up so far. (Although Jimmy could be cast aside for that.) It had been a long day, after all.

Chris subconsciously slid into bed, his brother’s arms locked around him as though he was a treasured possession.

In a way, he was .

Chris tried to get his brother to lie down. He could hear his heart pounding hard; he frowned. His brother’s tears had really soaked his hair. Nonetheless, he didn’t mind. The bed was shaking from his brother’s agitation.

Several minutes later, Martin let out a prolonged, heavy and shaky sigh. He sniffled as he wiped his face in his pillow before taking a deep breath.

“Sorry- I-I’m so sorry- ” his voice was terribly raspy.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Chris rubbed his back comfortingly. “I’ll go get you some water.”

As soon as he shifted to get up, Martin instinctively locked his hand on his brother’s wrist like a handcuff.

“ NO! ”

Chris nearly jumped at his reaction. He looked down at his brother’s pleading eyes, his hand tightening on his wrist so hard that he winced from the pain.

“Martin?” Chris’ brows furrowed.

“S-Stay with me,” Martin begged.

Reading his brother’s eyes, Chris understood. “Okay, then. I’ll help you get to the main room and grab a glass of water,” he suggested with a tender tone.

Martin scanned his brother’s eyes deeply, and with the soreness in his throat, it was all enough to convince him. He gave a small, quivery nod.

Carefully, Chris reached out two hands, one to hold his brother’s, and the other wrapped around him for stability.

Martin’s knees were trembling so hard, doing an incredible job at making the trip from the brothers’ room to the main room a challenge of its own. He felt weak, so close to just collapsing onto the floor right then and there. Despite the fact that his brother was heavier than him, Chris was determined to support his weight as much as he could.

When they made it to the main room, Chris led his brother to the center table where he could rest while he went over to the sink to fill him up a glass of water.

That small, insignificant distance between the sink and where Martin was sitting were enough to make him dreadful to the core. He couldn’t even swallow anymore. His shoulders were tense. He kept his drowsy eyes on his little brother, refusing to even blink , fearing that in that minuscule fraction of time, he would just vanish into thin air.

He watched as Chris brought him a glass full of refreshing water before sitting next to him. It took him a few seconds before having a good hold of the glass; his hands were still a bit shaky. But the cool liquid was all but soothing for his throat, making that small “trip” all worth it.

Putting the glass down, Martin sighed heavily. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Chris put a hand on his shoulder and, thanks to the bit of moonlight shining through the rooftop, Martin was able to see his smile. A smile he wouldn’t trade for the whole world.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Chris finally said in a hushed tone.

Without another word, he accompanied his older brother back to their room, Martin seeming a little less shaken. Regardless of how small the change was, it made Chris feel a little at ease.

Once they made it back, Martin lay down in bed, refusing to let go of his brother who had no choice but to stay by his side. He ran his hand through Chris’ hair as a coping mechanism of some sort, cherishing each second of it. Normally, Chris would be giving him a hard time for touching his hair, but this was an exception he was more than willing to make.

Silence.

“You wanna… talk about it?”

Martin’s heart skipped a beat. He shook his head hard, tightening his arms around his little brother.

Chris sighed. “You don’t have to... But it might help you feel better?” His voice was calm and soothing.

Martin swallowed hard.

“I- ” he found it hard to talk. His eyes began to water again. “I’m just glad you’re here. With me .” He pulled Chris even closer.

Chris felt another tear fall on his hair. His brother’s words deeply perturbed him. He remained silent, snuggling deeper into the embrace.

All through the night, Martin was almost certain he’d never be able to go back to sleep. But Chris refused to fall asleep before he did. He could tell Martin was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“You need sleep, bro,” Chris finally said.

Martin didn’t say anything.

…

“I was running in a forest,” he suddenly started.

Chris was all ears.

“And I was looking for you…” His voice was getting more shaky with each word. “And when I found you- ” A small squeak escaped his throat. “You- ” He swallowed hard. “Y-You were- ” He began to tremble again, sounding as though he would burst into tears once more.

Chris could feel his fingers digging into his shirt and arms. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s okay now.” He brushed his hand against his brother’s agonized face. “Whatever happened to me, just know it was never real.” He looked up to find tears already seeping through the corners of his brother’s eyes.

“But i-it felt so real ,” Martin’s lips were shaking badly. He never sounded so scared, so vulnerable.

It almost made Chris burst into tears.

“Hey, look at me.” Chris held his face and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?” His voice was comforting and reassuring. “When you wake up, you’ll find me right here.”

Martin looked down at his brother for the longest time, sensing the sincerity in his eyes. “Promise?” He gave him a longing look.

Chris caressed his hand. “I promise.”

With a tear-stained face, Martin gave him a somewhat relaxed smile. “Okay.” He seemed a little pensive.

After a while longer, Martin finally yawned. “Thanks, Chris.” He gently rubbed his face against his little brother’s hair, scooching as close as possible.

It didn’t take long before Martin gave in as he was drifting back to sleep.

Soon, Chris could hear him snoring softly. With a tired smile, he carefully pulled the blanket over them both, his brother’s arms strongly locked around him.

Chris hid his face in his brother’s shoulder and curled into a little ball, Martin now seeming at peace for the first time since he’d woken up.

At last, Chris closed his eyes, and whispered, “Good night, big bro.”

Notes:

Thank you @littlecrittereli for the wonderful cover you made for this fic!

[inkykeiji]

character: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, overstimulation, blood, toxic relationship words: 747

as much as sukuna would love to deny it, he has a habit. 

it’s unintentional, it’s instinctual, and it’s almost always entirely your fault. 

it appears when he teases you—a simple quirk up of the left side of his mouth, something that grows from a toothless smirk to a gleaming grin at your inevitable whine of his name, all scrunched up and filtered through your petulant little pout. oh, how precious. 

it’s accompanied by a sharp glint of amusement in his eye; something that flickers, that flares, the more upset you get, the more you grumble and scowl and sulk. because it’s so cute, baby, he’s murmuring through the steadily spreading lopsided smile slapped across his face, cooed out words oozing condescension, just how easily he can work you into a frenzy.

it appears when you’re riding him—a soft tugging at the left corner of his lips as he watches you bounce and rock and gyrate on his cock, using it as if it’s your favourite toy, just like he told you to. his usually keen stare is lidded, having turned melty and thick while observing you above him, because god, you’re so gorgeous; rolling whites of your eyes framed by fluttering lashes, dainty hands splayed wide on his chest and nails digging into plush muscle for leverage, fragments of his name and his title leaving your tongue in the sweetest little huffs, each one shoved from your chest with every graze of his cockhead over that engorged patch of flesh, puffy and swollen and buried deep inside of you.

it appears when he’s eating you out—vicious and vigorous and downright voracious—after you’ve lost count of how many times he’s forced you to cream on his tongue, immense pleasure having mollified your brain to a sticky goo, steady streams of glittering salt cascading down your cheeks, face twisted up somewhere between pleasure and pain.

you can feel his lips spreading against your licked-raw cunt, crooked simper reflected in his rust irises, curved mouth slippery as it glides over your slit, screwing up a little further on the left side just like it always does, the bottom half of his face soaked with his spit and your slick.

that skewed smile stretches unnaturally wider as you squirm beneath his grasp, nails scrabbling at whatever they can find—the cotton sheets and his scalp and those hulking shoulders—spine contorting off the bed and chest heaving with the cries that keep ripping up your throat, ragged and hoarse.

the strong arms wrapped around your thighs tighten, forearms weighing on the joints, effectively trapping you in his grip, tangled up in his limbs. two pairs of hands stay curled around your hips, pinning them to the mattress, twenty fingers flexing, leaving fresh steaks of blood across your pelvis, sticky and steadily oozing from the piercing claws gorging on your flesh.

it appears when he hurts you, hands too rough, grip too tight, tone too harsh—a worming sort of leer slanted to the left, something smug and arrogant smeared across his face when he soils your skin with him, a collar of twenty fingers etched into your neck in grotesque shades of plum, or twin sets of handprints stamped into your ass, swollen and stinging. it’s something that takes shape when your fragile veins snap beneath his touch, flooding your flesh with irregular blotches of purples and blues and speckled crimson; something that surfaces when yelps fracture in your throat and sobs hitch in your chest, so heavy your ribs shudder with them.

it appears when you do something so unbearably adorable, something so endearingly stupid, that he just can’t help but snort or snicker, the left side of his mouth twitching with mirth, something he desperately tries to smother, something he devastatingly discovers he can’t. 

because maybe he doesn’t even want to anymore, tired of fighting, tired of feigning. maybe it makes him feel something irritatingly unfamiliar, something much too human, something that binds itself to the void buried beneath his ribcage.

maybe it fills that void with something irrevocable, irreversible, unpreventable. maybe it fills that void with something bright and airy and warm, when you tell him you like his crooked smile, when you tell him it has got to be one of your favourite things about him, your favourite feature of his, happy to see it even as he drags you through hell with it carved into his face.

[pellucid-constellations]

angstober (4)

Prompt: "Just Breathe"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: More angst!! I appreciate all the support for these little drabbles sooooo much!!

angstober masterlist here ♡

~~~

“Come on. Come on!” 

Bucky was panicking. 

How had you fallen so fast? So suddenly? 

One moment you were beside him, the next you were mixed between cracked concrete and metal pipes—falling, falling, falling. Who knew bridges were so unreliable?

“Wake up, sweetheart. Come on, please,” he pleaded. Begged. His hands kept moving, kept pushing life into your chest as tears mixed with the saltwater on his cheeks. “You don’t get to leave me.” 

Steve was somewhere near the shore, fighting off whatever creature had blown up the bridge. And thank god for Steve, because Bucky would sooner let the creature from space eat him before he left you. Before he let you die. 

In some cynical, self-hating part of his brain, Bucky registered that you were already dead. 

He pumped his arms more steadily, applying more pressure, willing your heart to start beating. You weren’t dead. You weren’t. Because if you were gone… well, Bucky felt the repercussions of such a thing as he stared down at your waning, wet skin. Your lips were turning an unnatural shade and Bucky felt the reality, this reality, sink into his very bones. 

Sand bit into his knees where the torn material of his pants failed him, but Bucky felt it like lidocaine had been injected right to the site. A sob wracked his chest, almost crippling him as he gave his breath to you, and Bucky decided right then and there that nothing in his life had compared to this. 

The way your body moved was making him sick. You only budged when he forced the motion into your limbs, your neck only turned when he tilted it up to try and save you. 

This was awful, unimaginable. 

“I love you,” he whispered, shaking hands coming to brush the hair from your forehead. You hated when it fell into your eyes. “I love you, honey. Please.” 

His words broke, so Bucky kissed your skin instead. Your cheek, your neck, your shoulder—he kissed you to quell the unevenness of his own breath, and then he restarted compressions. 

“You can’t—” he struggled. “—you can’t let a little water take you out. I love you so much, it doesn’t work like that.” 

But, in real life, it did work like that. 

There was nothing supernatural pumping in your veins. You were human, breakable, and while Bucky was used to this truth, he had never felt it as strongly as he did in this moment. 

Somewhere, Steve called his name. 

Bucky was only listening for one sound, and it wasn’t Steve. 

Grief invaded the deepest parts of him, and it was slowing him down. Bucky never felt slow. Bucky was a machine. He could fix things and make them right. He had strength and invincibility and power.

Bucky could fix you, too. He could make you right. 

Couldn’t he? 

His crying had turned unintelligible, just small words lost between tears and gasping breaths. You’d cried like this one time. Right now, Bucky couldn’t remember why, but he’d held you and told you he’d never leave you. He’d run gentle fingers across your temple and stayed awake when you fell into a fitful sleep. 

Bucky was alone as he cried. 

“I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”

You coughed. It started small and then grew into a hacking, choking sound. Bucky startled, took a split second to watch the way your chest moved on its own, and then he pulled you forward with vigor. Your chin slotted over his shoulder and his hand made an imprint in the wet material at your back. 

“Hey, hey,” he breathed, shaky and softer than he had ever spoken. “Just breathe. You’re okay. Breathe, I got you.” 

Your fingers curled into his shirt, ripping at velcro and kevlar as you fought for air. Bucky held you through it, pressed his nose to the warming skin of your head and rocked the two of you without realizing it. Grief was still pounding in his bones. He wasn’t sure if that would go away anytime soon. If the weight of you being dead was ever going to leave him, even as you sat in his arms and choked out breaths. 

“Bucky,” you eventually wheezed out, pulling back from his grasp. “I—” 

“Shhh,” he hushed. Because as much as he wanted to hear you speak, hear proof that you were lucid and knew him and loved him, you were struggling. “Don’t try to talk. You’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

It sounded like a question no one could answer. 

But you nodded, and Bucky pulled you back into his chest. “Just breathe, baby. You’re okay.”

[storm-angel989]

Can I request a girl dad Vox where his teenage daughter is going through her emo phase. at the same time going through puberty, and she's just at that stage where she's like "I hate you all" and it really hurts Vox because she's always been her little girl and maybe it ends with them making up and just being goofy like watching her favorite movies. Like super daddy's girl esk until then and his world just stops when she starts pulling away. I LOVE GIRL DAD VOX.

This was such a fun request! Thanks for sending!! <3

The attitude shift came overnight. Vox couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his daughter changed her nail polish from pink to black, or when she started to wear only the black pieces from her wardrobe. But he could absolutely remember the first time she snapped at him over a simple question. As she left the breakfast table and slammed the door shut behind her, Vox looked to Valentino and Velvette for guidance. 

“She’s growing up,” Velvette said through sips of her coffee. “Just be patient. Let her come to you and give her space.”

And so, Vox tried. I mean, honestly, he really did try. He let every snarky response, every too loud blast of music pass. Hell, the morning she woke up and poured herself a cup of coffee he almost blew a gasket. She was sixteen, she didn’t need coffee, he started to say, but Valentino cut him off and guided reader back to the kitchen. 

“Cream and sugar, little princessa, will help you get used to the taste,” Valentino said gently. 

Vox heard her mutter something he couldn’t quite make out but her tone certainly sounded rude. He stood up to scold her but Velvette grabbed his hand. 

“Pick your battles, Vox. This isn’t it.” Velvette said. “It’s only a phase.”

And so he gave her as much freedom as he felt he could while still being an active, involved parent. He kept on top of her grades and gave her the space she demanded and he thought for sure that respecting her privacy would get at least an “I love you Daddy,” on occasion. The most he got from her was a slightly less intense look of disdain every time he asked a question or a task of her. It seemed to him Daddy’s Little Girl was no longer. 

The hair dye was the final straw. Pretty brunette turned box dye black in a matter of hours. A bathroom splattered with splotches of black and a sink stained so badly Vox was sure it would never come out. Her beautiful brunette hair was now an odd shade of gray. He felt his anger grow as he saw the remnants of her activities and with a yell, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her downstairs to Velvelettes studio. 

“Where did you even get this?” Vox asked in frustration as he watched Velvette’s assistant try to scrub the stains from behind her ears. “And why? You had such pretty hair!”

“Why does it matter?” She snapped. “I can do what I want with my body. You can’t stop me.”

“I never said you couldn’t! But you have an entire salon two floors below your bedroom, why didn’t you just say something?” He asked in exasperation as Velvette walked over. 

“Because it’s my body! I just wanted to do something on my own for once without everything questioning me!” She screamed. 

And then she burst into tears. Vox could feel his heart breaking at the sound and pushed the assistant away as he pulled her into his arms. He expected her to push him away, but instead she leaned into his shoulder and cried.

“And now I’m ugly, and my hair sucks and I just, I just…” she let out a hiccuping sob. 

Vox recognized that noise. Even in her teenage years, that cry hadn’t changed. He pressed his hand to the back of her head gently, ignoring the leftover streaks of dye that stained his hands. 

“Hey, hey baby girl. It’s alright, Auntie Vel will get your hair fixed up,” he said as soothingly as he could. 

Velvette glanced up from behind the counter and took her place behind the chair. She gave Vox an encouraging look. 

Vox took a deep breath. Pick my battles, he thought to himself as he held his not so little girl anymore. 

“And I’m sure she’ll dye it black if that’s what you really want,” he conceded finally. 

Another sniffle from the face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Really, you’d let me do that?” She asked as she leaned back and rubbed at her eyes. 

“Only if you promise never to use box dye again,” he replied lightly. “The bathroom is a mess. We might have to repaint the entire thing.” 

She let out a ghost of a smile and he gently dabbed her eyes.

 “There there. No more tears. It’s okay.”

“Daddy? Can I ask you something?” She asked as Velvette quietly took her place behind the chair and began to work her way through the half brunette streaks of hair. 

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Can…can we redo my room? I don’t want it pink anymore.” She said softly. “Please don’t be mad.”

He could feel his heart breaking for the second time that day, this time for an entirely different reason. She thought he would be mad at her? He tried to think back to when she would get that idea and quickly concluded now wasn’t the best time to analyze his own behavior. Not when he had those pretty blue eyes watching him, waiting desperately for a response. 

“Sure baby girl,” he replied with a kiss to her forehead. “How about we get your hair fixed up and then you and I can do some shopping and redesign the whole thing together tonight? How’s that sound?” 

Her eyes lit up. “That would be amazing! Thank you, Dad!” She stood up from the chair threw her arms around him. 

Velvette gave Vox an approving smile.

“Alright then you two, let's get to work so you guys can go have some fun!” She said cheerfully. 

A few hours later, Vox watched as reader admired her reflection in the mirror. Somewhere, it pained him that she wanted to run so far in the opposite direction. He wondered what he had done to lose her trust.

“Don’t take it personally,” Velvette said softly to Vox as he watched reader run her fingers through her hair. “She’s just trying to find her place in the world.”

“What do I do about the bedroom? I can’t have it all black, it would look awful.” He replied, “but unless I give in…”

“Boundaries, Vox. It’s a reasonable give and take. Sure, painting her entire room back would look awful. And It’s okay to hold an expectation and come to a compromise. Some part of her still wants to know you care about her. She’s just testing her limits. All teenagers do.” Velvette added. “But I would start with designing together on one of you computers and go from there.”

Several hours, zero tears and one phone in pizza order later, Vox and reader sat on the couch. For the first time in a long time, reader was in hysterics as they watched her favorite movie together.

“Hey, Dad?” She asked once she collected herself enough to speak. “I love you.”

Vox tried to keep his cool, but his heart soared. “Love you too,” he replied. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be your dad.”