#if you wanna know the headspace i was in when i was drawing these listen to the singer maye

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[dino-boyo-agere]

Hai 🦈

I'm Nathan, but u can call me Nate or Dino 💖

I'm a 25 year old trans guy from Germany and this is my age regression blog. 🏳️‍⚧️💞 My little age mainly moves between 3 to 6. Lately I feel like I'm permanently slipping or at around age 10 or 12 mentally.

My birthday is on August 15th!!

I love Dinosaurs, coloring and crafting! 🦕🖍️

╰→ klick here to find out what my favorite dinos are!!

I'm a primary colors enthusiast!! 💛💙❤️ My favorite colors are green & blue. 💚💙

I have several disabilities & disorders (ADHD, Dyslexia, birth defects, other stuff) ♿🧠

I'm incontinent, so I have to wear diapers. 🚼

I'm in lots of fandoms (Stranger Things, Criminal Minds, Supernatural, etc.) 💫📺

My CG blog: @silly-baba

I have an AgeRe YouTube channel btw!!

I made a Spotify playlist with my favorite songs!! - it is not agere themed tho lol

I only have nine fingers, if you're interested in knowing why, → here ← is the story of how I lost one of them. (!cw! obv. It's a little bloody!)

╰→ someone uploaded my story to YouTube, if you would like to listen to it, instead of reading! <3

DNI: nsfw, ddlg & variants, ABDl & variants, kink of any form... 🚫

Indicator if I'm:

big → 🦖

slipping → ☁️

small → 🧸

I'm a flip, heavily leaning little!

DMs are open, but I hate smalltalk. So, please just get right to the point when u wanna message me for/ about something. (It's completely fine if you just wanna chat, obviously!) Same goes for questions, no need to ask "Can I ask you a question?" Yes, you can! Just go and ask ahead right away!! <3 - Thank you for understanding!!

Also, lil tipp: every time a colored text in my posts has a white underline, it has a link in it. It's a little harder to see now, since Tumblr also ads underlines to each colored text, but it's still visible if you know what ur looking for! They changed it back, yayy!!

I have memory issues, so I'll probably reblogg some things multiple times or forget to answer questions/ do requests. Don't hesitate to remind me, but please be patient & don't pressure me, thank you! <3

If you're interested, → here ← is my cg application doc form, I'd absolutely love to have an online cg!! 💕

I made a list of YouTube channels to watch when regressed, some are themed around regression and some are just fun!!

I also made a little list for people who want to educate themselves about regression, what it is, why people do it ant what it's for!!

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆↓ My AgeRe ID ↓☆ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

If you want to make ur own ID → here ← is a link to imgur!

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓This is me!↓✧°･«ﾟ.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

.ﾟ.* ｡×ﾟ｡･* ﾟ☆↓My Tummy-Puppy↓☆ ﾟ*･｡ﾟ× ｡*.ﾟ.

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ✧↓My doggo, Miles↓✧ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

Rest in peace, little buddy [21.09.2024]

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆↓I like crafting!↓☆ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓My little sona, Spots↓✧°･«ﾟ･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･

You can learn more about him → here, ← if you want to.

｡. ×ﾟ･.»･⁠°☆↓My AgeRe Sona, Toggy↓☆°･«.･ ﾟ× . ｡

You can learn more about them → here, ← if you want to.

･.｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓My cg sona, Loo↓✧°･«ﾟ･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡.･

You can learn more about them → here, ← if you want to.

I have a furry blog but it's not super active <3

.*.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.*.ﾟ☆ ↓My hashtags!↓ ☆ ﾟ.*.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.*.

Fanfics: #nates fanfictions

Head Canons: #nates headcanons

When I'm in my CG headspace: #baba space

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Arts & crafts: #nates drawings & #nates crafts

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YouTube Videos/ Channel: #nates youtube

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Recommendations: #nates recommendations

╰→recommendations for YouTube, Music, TV, Movies..

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ✧ ↓ Info & DNI ↓ ✧ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

I created this blog on November 9th 2022.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Hey! Asking various artists and writers, do you have a Playlist or specific songs you gravitate toward to help you get in the right headspace while creating whump?

Anon I'm so sorry but I wrote you a 1500 word essay on one specific album. I literally have no explanation for myself. Take Pity On Me.

TLDR: Listen to "The Draw" please it's my favorite for any type of turmoil, and just "Overjoyed" in general. Also this album is good for semi-dramatic dialog and ~vibes~.

Why ‘All This Bad Blood’ by Bastille 2013 is the best album to write to: 

Oh my god it’s 10 years old. 

This has been my go-to album for writing since I got a laptop and started writing. I’m 100% serious. Part of it is most probably because it’s nostalgic for me, but I’ve completed a full essay on why this is the best album (for my style) to write to. 

Part 1: Just a couple reasons 

The Accent. 

This is 100% also just My Brain because when my formative creative years were incredibly BBC/British heavy. We’re talking Chronicles of Narnia on audio books, Dr. Who, Sherlock, Merlin, Robin Hood, Adventures of Sara Jane. I’m honestly probably missing some but you get it. To the point where there was a period when I was around 15 or so I’d use british words/cadence with an American accent. (I still do it sometimes it’s weird). 

Honestly part of my writing process to this day is to speak dialog out loud, and more often or not it’s in a british accent. 

The Aesthetic

It’s pretty piano heavy, along with a main singer and some background singing that’s very easy to get lost in. There’s this nice kinda ethereal filter for many of the songs, so it just kinda slides into your brain and into the background. It’s listed in the alternative section but it’s very pop so it’s very common denominator. 

“Songs Write My Story” 

I literally put this album on shuffle once and made a plot based off of the vibes of each song. To my recollection there were some pretty decent parts. I’ll see if I can find it. 

Part 2: The songs.  

My absolute favorite reason to write to this album is the fact that so many of the songs have these wonderful, dramatic dialogue lines. When the music rises to the surface long enough to catch the words, they’re often good for like, semi-dramatic plot points/dialog lines. 

As requested by literally no one, in fact I believe they’re all begging me to literally write anything else, I will now go through each song and pull out some lines that I find specifically “semi-dramatic” that I would either want to or have used as inspiration for my writing, as well as rate them and give them vibes.

Pompeii -  6/10 Writingness. Good but Tik Tok kinda ruined it. However the concept of Pompeii itself is Very Vibes and helps save it.  Oh where do we begin, the rubble or our sins? 

Things We Lost to the Fire - 8/10 Writingness. Great Vibes. Very “our world collapsed and we’ve been living in the rubble and are numb to it.”  We were born with nothing and we sure as hell have nothing now. 

Bad Blood - 5/10. A bit too specific to be multifunctional. Great ‘Sarcastic Reunion with Adversarial Side Character.”  And you said you always had my back Oh, but how were we to know? That these are the days that bind you Together, forever And these little things define you Forever, forever

Overjoyed - 10/10. Perfect semi-dramatic vibes. Is your character, sarcastic, genuine, dazed, prophetic? Resentful? Longing? This song works for all of them. Just the word “overjoyed” is not used enough.  Oh I feel overjoyed. 

These Streets - 7/10 another nuanced one, but not quite as wide a range as Overjoyed.  I won’t show my face here anymore. 

Weight of Living Pt. II - 3/10. Too good of a bop. I wanna jam I’m not writing. Do you like the person you’ve become? 

Icarus - 8/10. Like a combination of Pompeii and Overjoyed. The concept of Icarus is such a rich creative one that it makes up for how much of a BOP it is (the “bop” index is a negative in this evaluation because it distracts me). This one is perfect for the “mentor trying to warn someone else of MC’s downfall.  Icarus is flying towards an early grave.  (also these are words but the vocal sections are just really inspiring on this one for me) 

Oblivion - 5/10. Good, I was waiting for you to be great. It can be in the background but it’s not going to inspire anything.  Are you going to age with grace? 

Flaws - 7/10. I kinda can’t listen to this one without mouthing along to it like I’m in a self-righteous argument, which is great for my writing style. The more I can inhibit a character the better and more I can write for them. So it’s a little narrow of inspiration but it always gets me there.  There’s a hole in my sole, I can’t fill it. Can you fill it? 

You have always worn your flaws on your sleeve, and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground. Dig them out, let’s finish what we started. 

Daniel in the Den - 9/10. Again, Daniel in the lion den is a great creative concept, gets me into the character, has emotion, it builds but i don’t find it fully distracting. Again not as broad as Overjoyed but I use this one often.  Felled in the night by the ones you think you love. 

Laura Palmer - 9/10. Another great general go to. Conviction. Motivation, direction. Feels multi-functional to me because of the variety from the verses to chorus to bridge.  What a year and what a night, what terrifying final sights. 

Get Home - 6/10. Honestly see “Oblivion”. Only got a little higher rating because the repeated “how am i going to get myself back home” is really good for inspiration. Still on the list, still great but nothing to write something home about (lol).  How am I going to get myself back home? 

Poet - 3/10. This is probably one my favorite “adoration” songs but I just don’t find it particularly inspirational - although that’s probably because I don’t tend to write love stories or the such.  I have written you down, you will live forever. 

The Silence - 4/10. Like Poet, a little too directly “adoration”, but I do appreciate it reminds me to use the term “my dear”.  My Dear, it is not enough to be dumbstruck. 

Haunt - 8/10 Yeah we’re back babey. I need the reminder to make my characters more ominous. All of your characters should haunt the reader (good or bad lol). It’s not like I’m above you. 

Weight of Living, Pt I - 8/10. There’s something solemnly hopeful about this to me. Are they regretful as they counsel the MC? Do they believe they can find happiness or are they resigned to their fate? You get to decide if this song is encouraging them or is someone giving up. I’m also a sucker for songs that set up a premise and evolve it through the song. It good.  Your albatross, let it go. 

Sleepsong - 7/10. Feels dangerous. A little evil, perhaps? What are their intentions? Are they trying to help? If so, why?  It scares you, being alone. 

Durban Skies - 5/10. See Oblivion. Probably a little better vibe, but not wildly inspiring like some of the others.  (honestly there’s isn’t a lyric that stands out to me in this one but I still like writing to it.) 

Laughter Lines - 3/10. I am. Seeing a pattern. Songs that have a strong “love” element to them get lower ratings from me lol. (Again, not a lyric but the section talking about carving on trees inspired me to write a character who was illiterate but kept her “diary” by carving her emotions into a tree trunk. Her world didn’t have a lot of light, so she would often run her fingers across the carvings to relive memories.) 

Previously on Other People’ Heartbreak - NA, it’s kinda a non song it’s just an intro to part II. 

Of the Night - 3/10, See Weight of Living Pt II. Too fun, too boppy. I am bouncing I am not writing. 

The Draw - 10/10. This one. This is one of the ones that I turn on if I’m having trouble writing anything. It just oozes conflict, specifically inner termoil which i just fucking eat up. I love it. This is my best writing song. So so so good. 

(Oh my god just the entire song please just listen to it. Just this one). 

What would you do - NA. I actually kinda skip this one for just Reasons. Again it’s a good song and I would write to it but I just don’t. This song has a TW for sexual assault and just. It’s kinda a lot to chew on. 

Skulls - 8/10. This one escapes the “too good to write to” because oh god. The attitude of this song. It’s possessive. It’s threatening. It wants something… but, what? (However it is absolutely a bop which is why it’s not a 9 or 10) (Again it’s just the whole song)

Tuning out - 6/10. It’s a haunting rendition of Silent Night? So Lyrically it’s not too impressive but the vibes are good for writing. 

Is this what you asked for? No not even a little bit. I did enjoy doing it tho that’s all that matters ...eheh....

[xx-vergil-xx]

@moorishflower thanks for tagging me!!  now that I’m sat down to write ch 24 I'm in the ideal headspace to consider this delightful query

rules: List five things you never get tired of writing. It can be tropes, themes, characters, phrases, whatever brings you joy. Then tag five people!

~~ body horror ~~

I just.  love to get gross.  love to get carnal.  love blood and guts and visceral inarguable things.  physicality is so.  it’s so down in the mud it’s so teeth and gums it’s so burning and bleeding and I just.  I want to write that.  things that cut physical and emotional at once.  icky.  I just wanna be a little icky.  also.  using body horror metaphors for emotional states.  fuck yes.  gross.  ouchy.

~~ senses n shit ~~

if this was not blindingly apparent let me emphasize it once more –– this is my Jam.  I am a big Senses person.  everything is colors and textures.  like, hozier’s “wasteland, baby!” is an extremely specific palette in my head, and when I listen to the song it like.  elicits a physical sensory texture response like it feels like really nice weighted chiffon, sort of heavy and flowing and light all at once.  I have most of my memories in colors and lighting (I have this absurdly vivid snapshot of the dark blue-purple and gold like streetlamp at night and the way it fell on someone’s face who I was in love with at the time and just like even now even now it has not left me) so as a writer it is an indulgence to simply project this sensory lifestyle onto things.  I also really believe that the best way to craft emotion is via choices of how you describe sensation as it’s experienced –– been writing a lotta sappy shit lately but love has its own textures its own bevy of reference points in sound and light and color –– florals and lavenders and cotton-y things –– and the way sensation is portrayed can tell a whole lot about a character’s emotional state imo

~~ not saying you love someone ~~

give me “are you alright?”.  give me “I thought you’d like this.”  give me “I’ll wait for you, I’m waiting now.”  give me “get home safe.”  give me “don’t leave.”  yeah.  yeah yeah.  I believe firmly in talking around things, in the ways we tell each other we love each other without ever saying the words.  yeah. 

~~ noses ~~

this is also an art thing as well as writing.  I dunno what wacked out little neuron miswiring in me has caused this but like.  I love drawing and also throwing in brief written nods to noses.  underrated facial feature.  fascinating shapes lots of lines.  I can’t explain this one much beyond vague handwaving and rambling about geometry and architecture but yeah.

~~ the limits of language ~~

this goes hand in hand with my love of translation.  because like.  we are so limited.  we are so bound by our range of vocabulary.  there are some experiences you can’t convey in language, in any way that another person might know and understand.  I'm in this course on visionary medieval women and so much of it is about the struggle of conveying a divine vision as both a metaphorical and allegorical and very literal experience and like.  I think about this so much.  how do we say what we are?  what we see?  how do we know we are understood?  how can you take the horrible and the brutal and the real raw lived thing of you and contain it in words?  how do we get through that?  I dunno communication and its limits, man.

anyway!!  apologies if you’ve already been tagged and ofc no obligation (and art friends this is for art too!!), but @aberfaeth @thunderburning @averythepirate @thescreechowl @panziku-nox

[irishvampireboy]

FAIR! i struggle so much with categorizing music into genres, so that makes a lot of sense actually! i really like the lead singer’s voice of pierce the veil! i like king for a day a lot even though that’s a popular ass song (i think). it’s a good song and i hyperfixated on it a couple months ago lmao. song recs would be nice!!!! i could add them to my notes for whenever the time is right

chateau is so beautiful to me. it’s like hotel in the clouds vibes. i wish i could draw how i see the song in one specific part. i have vivid mental imagery that i wish i could implant into your brain so you see my exact vision, very sad that isn’t possible :( i honestly haven’t heard the entirety of twenty twenty, i should do that but that album hasn’t had it’s time yet for me to listen to it. you’re pushing me to wanna! i just might! i listened to that line in the song and i went all 😳 at it. i never really thought of it like that and goddamn…. need a second after that. also not tmi! i’m a subby little gremlin too, no worries at all. there’s a certain part in i want your video that makes me feral. the whole part of “so, i need you, baby, feeling alright” brings me to my knees. like holy fuck. don’t know what it is but jesus h christ dude. it makes me sick in the best way possible. so i understand that so so so well. and you are so right, i hadn’t did that in years but this year felt right

that’s so nice to hear, i’m incredibly happy for you. i hope things continue to be better for you, you deserve so much joy and love <3

of course!!!!! sharing food is such a love language, as is cooking. i would love to eat your food, i just know how good it is haha

AHHH ITS JUST TRUE! and you’re so fair, i don’t have too many friends but they are all online. i love the little people in my phone, they bring me joy. even the ones who don’t know me directly, like you, it’s such a beautiful feeling to have people to share things with. OF COURSE THOUGH!!!! you’re so sweet and chill and nice, good vibes. love it here, feels like cake with cute sprinkles on top yknow?

-🦇

Well i know a green day song called king for a day... did peirce the veil cover it??? Or do they have their own song called that!?!?!?! I don't listen to peirce the veil... yet!!! Someday!

Yesss its such a dreamy song i love it. And yesssss i wish i could beam certain things into people's heads it would make things so much easier! And yesss you should listen!!! There's so many good dreamy songs on that one its amazing. Love the headspace it kind of puts you in. So nice. You'll love it when you get there!!! But yeah his voice and the way he sings certain things absolutely make me go feral. 🤣🤣

IM A CUPCAKE!!!! YOU JUST SAID CAKE... NOW THAT I READ IT BUT I WANNA BE A CUPCAKE!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🧁

[weilaverdui]

I posted 1,099 times in 2022

That's 1,099 more posts than 2021!

76 posts created (7%)

1,023 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@masterofrecords

@vociferans

@derinthescarletpescatarian

@headspace-hotel

@aria-faye

I tagged 338 of my posts in 2022

#made with krita - 41 posts

#digital art - 34 posts

#twisted wonderland - 33 posts

#angstober - 28 posts

#angstober 2022 - 28 posts

#jamil viper - 25 posts

#weil in her natural habitat - 24 posts

#genshin impact - 21 posts

#jamil twst - 15 posts

#azul ashengrotto - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 95 characters

#actually looks like something i want to work on for art. ...xiao is proooobably going to suffer

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So... we all joke about "who is going to tell Malleus it is NOT an otome game", right? I was listening to the "Make a Wish" song.... and thought: "What if Malleus overblots exactly because someone told him that?........ (Do not mind me, I am just shitposting)

43 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

#4

Very rough flat colours - not indicative of final product - just a start and marking everything. Striped fabric killed me.

45 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#3

Masquerade

Ok, so… I think I am done with these two dancing! I had FUN with drawing this artwork, though it was also a HUGE challenge. I feel I got better at rendering in digital! The power of simping, I guess. And yeah, I promised to deliver Jamil (And Ashenviper) content and, while it took almost 3 weeks, I hope you all will enjoy these two.

To be fair, Twisted Wonderland somehow kicked my creativity a lot, and I feel much more motivated to do art. Especially Jamil art. Thank you, @masterofrecords, it's all your fault.

The masquerade event was just a perfect combination of beautiful Jamil and Azul, Venetian Masquerade aesthetic (love it, LOVE it) and the gothic architecture (that I am obsessed with since childhood and that I am trying to learn to 3d model). And it also kicked my memories of historical dancing, so now I went back to it!

Hope to make more art! If you love Jamil Viper and have any ideas for future artworks - feel free to drop an ask!

58 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

#2

Ok, I know my anatomy sucks and my forshortening sucks even more, but anyway, dropping some of Weil's Jamil agenda for this week.

If for some reason you wanna see some Jamil art from me (because we need more Jamil on this site) - you can slide an ask to my ask box. No guarantees, of course - my motivation sucks the same way as my anatomy, but I will try my best. Probably won't draw any kisses because this is too hard for my poor brain. (Also, I am based to Jamil/Azul ship)

And here you have poor Viper starting his overblot.

72 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Puppet Masters of Night Raven

Ok, so this is my super fast brainrot that I needed to get out of system to move on.

Got it when learnt what these two did in Masquerade event. We love controller casters in this house.

In other news:

Looks like Ruggie was the only one that did not get the baroque heels. Yes, the heels on all the other costumes are the one you wear for Baroque dancing.

Rollo, ffs, man, why the only guy you put in typical 18-century breeches and stockings (that accentuate calfs BEAUTIFULLY) is JAMIL. Don't get me wrong, dancing makes your calfs look suuuuuper nice, but Rollo, your brain works in... interesting ways.

(I admire Azul's self-control, he did not combust on spot when he saw that)

89 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nicodrawings]

Late night post of some drawings I did today. I was thinking about how Ms. Dana Terrace draws them in street clothes and it always makes me happy when she does it so I wanted to try the same thing.

[earlgreydream]

another minute.

| James potter x reader | fluff | smut |

subby james, because I can’t get enough

Your book rested against one bent knee, propped up so you could view the white pages. The story sucked you in, consuming hours of your time, making you forget you were lounged on James’ bed, instead of lost in a mythical world. Worlds of ethereal angels sucked you into a far-away reality, creating visions in your mind that distracted you from the looming anxiety of O.W.L.S. and James’ stress.

You were broken out of your trance when the door opened, the exhausted boy returning from quidditch practice. You frowned when you noticed how defeated his expression was, exhaustion making him weary. Your boyfriend rarely looked sullen, and the sight made you sad.

“James, how was it, love?” you dared to ask.

“It was a total shitshow.”

His voice had a distinct whine to it, alerting you of his disappointment and neediness. You sighed, reaching out your hand, squeezing his, deciding to let his profanity slide instead of scolding him. 

“Go shower, James, and I’ll help make it up to you,” you instructed softly, knowing what James wanted from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered softly, disappearing into the bathroom.

You listened to the water run, setting your novel aside. You stripped down while you waited for him, residing yourself to lie naked on the bed. 

.

James was beyond frustrated with how the practice had gone. Tournaments were coming up, and Gryffindor was nowhere near prepared to beat Slytherin in the championship. He’d spent the entire semester coaching the team, but they weren’t as good as the cunning house, and the frustration was wearing on James.

He was tired of being in control, being responsible and ordering around the other students. It exhausted him, and all he wanted was to melt into a submissive headspace around you, and let you take care of him. You loved to do it, you adored your sweet, mostly well-behaved, subby boyfriend. 

James let the hot water and soap wash away the dirt, rain, and sweat, leaving him clean for you. He spent a little too long in the shower, enjoying the water until it ran cold. He appreciated your patience, thankful he wasn’t being rushed. 

When he walked out of the bathroom, he immediately started to harden at the sight of your nude form stretched out on crimson sheets. You looked divine, and he stood and stared at you for a moment, taking in the sight.

.

You smiled, running your fingers up his warm torso as he walked over to you. The towel fell from his waist, and he knelt over you on the bed.

“What do you need, my love?” You brushed black hair from his face, and he leaned into your touch. You gently tilted his face up, thick, dark lashes parting to reveal emerald green eyes.

“Need you,” he whined, sinking down to lay between your legs.

“You can have whatever you want,” you promised, willing to give the gorgeous boy anything.

A muscular arm hooked under your waist, and his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sending a shudder through you. You allowed yourself to relax, dripping onto the sheets as his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, sucking on it while his fingers toyed with the other.

James encouraged a sigh from you, gazing up with gentle green eyes. Your fingers combed through his hair, feeling the soft locks under your touch.

He rutted onto the bed innocently, and you wondered why he didn’t fuck you, only focusing on your chest. You were beginning to ache with need, and if he wasn’t going to fill you, you wanted to be eaten out.

“Jamesie, love, why don’t you touch my pussy?” You asked, your voice coming out in a slightly higher pitch.

“Wanna play with your tits,” James whined, smearing his lips over your skin as he spoke.

“I know, baby, but I need to be touched properly. Please, can you be sweet for me?” You pleaded, starting to regret your promise to let him do whatever he wanted.

Above all, James wanted to please you, and be your sweet boy. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he pried himself from your chest.

“Okay,” he relented, pecking your lips before sitting back on his heels.

He let himself admire you for a moment, your skin flushed from teasing, and the puffy red area between your legs glistening. He bit back a smile, amused by how aroused you got from having your tits played with, even though you complained.

“Will you ride me?”

You almost missed the question. James’ voice was so low and soft, it barely registered. You didn’t understand how he could possibly be shy, asking, but he still somehow surprised you.

You sat up and James grinned, falling onto his back on the red sheets, his waves fanning around his head in a dark halo. He was ethereal, with his warm, tanned skin, and bright eyes.

You moved to straddle his lap, kneeling over your boyfriend. James’ hands came to your hips, helping to guide your movements and take some of the pressure.

Your hand reached below you, gently wrapping around him. You jerked him off a couple times, preparing to ride him. James watched you silently as you sank down, his cock disappearing inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut and one hand reached out to grab the headboard for balance.

“James, fuck!” You moaned as your hips met his, entirely filled with him.

Your head dropped forward, both hands gripping the oak headboard. James leaned up slightly, pulling your nipple into his mouth while you were bent over him. A cry left your lips from the stimulation, and you rolled your hips, beginning to build a rhythm of fucking yourself on James.

He was heavy and thick, enough to make you feel as though you were being split open every time your hips came down on his. The burn was delicious, spreading heat through your abdomen and slowly building pressure.

James loved the way you felt around him. You were so tight and warm, enveloping him and shocking him by how deep you could take it. He loved the way your tiny veins strained as you gripped the headboard, your face scrunched up in pleasure.

He snapped his hips up into yours, forcing himself against your cervix. A scream tumbled from your lips, your clit grinding against his pubic bone. The stimulation sent you over the edge, orgasming violently.

Your hands came down to his chest as you struggled to hold yourself up, hot fire burning through your veins as you pulsed around him. James pulled you down fully, spilling into you as he came. You squealed at the sensation, gripping his shoulders as the thick, white liquid leaked out of you.

“Oh my god, James,” you breathed, throwing your head back as he throbbed inside of you, continuing to paint your cunt with white ribbons.

He was loud. Moans fell from James’ gorgeous, full lips as he fucked up into you, drawing out both of your orgasms until you were so weak you nearly collapsed on him.

He caught you, arms snaking around your waist to hold you against his chest. James rested his chin on top of your head, letting you bury your face in his neck. Fingertips skimmed up and down your back, tracing delicate shapes on your skin.

You relaxed, not caring about the mess, settling down with him still sheathed inside of you. He hummed softly, soothing you with a familiar melody.

You pressed tiny kisses to his throat, making the boy smile.

“You trying to rile me, honey?” James teased, nudging your head.

“No, just loving on you.”

His heart softened, and he kissed the top of your head, tightening his arm around you.

“We gotta clean up soon.”

“I know, but let me have another minute.”

James obliged your wishes, never objecting to being warmed by you. When you began to squirm, he decided it was time to clean up, his hands going under your legs.

An apology was whispered as he eased out of you, earning a pathetic whimper. You felt raw and sleepy, and you detested the feeling of James pulling out and leaving you empty. He tilted your chin up, delivering a kiss to your lips, trying to distract you.

He waved his wand, cleaning you both— and the sheets. Your arms draped over his back as you were carried to a shower, hot water pouring over the two of you.

James carefully set you down, making sure you were steady on your feet. You gently pushed his shoulder, smiling as James knelt in front of you.

His forehead rested against your thigh as you massaged shampoo through his hair. He didn’t mind showering a second time, cherishing the intimacy with you. All the tension he held dissipated, relaxing as you showered together.

He washed your body gently, minding the tender areas. You giggled as he murmured a spell, making the bubbles change colors.

.

“Thank you,” James said, snuggled beside you in bed.

“For what?” You looked up, meeting a gentle emerald gaze.

“For helping me cheer up,” he answered, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your face broke into a smile, leaning back into his chest.

You pulled your knees up, curling tighter into a ball against him.

“I’m happy to. I’m sorry that your day was hard, though.”

“You more than made up for it. I’m so lucky to be yours,” he kissed your cheek, earning a grin. You reached up, tangling your fingers into his hair.

“I’m the lucky one.”

He laughed and pulled you onto his lap, squeezing you and littering kisses all over your face.

[otakusheep15]

It’s straight up been six (6) months since I’ve written the first half of this lol, but here we are. Finally getting to the little bros, yay! @saffron-kyotaro so sorry for taking this long lol, hope you enjoy it. 

Go read the first part if you wanna see the lead-up to the actual scenarios, but you don’t have to if you don’t want. 

MC’s Past Trauma (pt 2)

Satan

Immediately stops yelling the moment you run out the room

He knows it’s probably a bad idea to go after you while he’s still in his angry state, so he goes to his room for a bit to chill off

Thinking back on it, the original topic of the fight wasn’t even all that major, and Satan should have known better than to let it get to such a point

It takes a while, but eventually, Satan is able to calm himself down and works up the nerve to go look for you

He finds you in your room, and you look like an absolute wreck

By now, the tears have stopped, but you have yet to try and fix your appearance at all, and you’re clearly still shaken up

Satan completely understands if you don’t want to talk to him, especially after what you just saw

At first, he’s not really sure how to approach the situation

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable by invading your space, but he also feels that it would be awkward if he doesn’t do anything

For now, he just sits at your desk and waits for you to make the first move, and he’d honestly wait forever if you needed

If you decide to talk to him, Satan listens very intently and doesn’t interrupt until you’re done speaking

Regardless if you’re ranting about your past trauma or simply telling him off for fighting, he listens and truly takes in all you have to say

If you can’t bring yourself to talk, Satan understands and won’t push you

Instead, he’ll ask if you need anything, such as a snack or some water, or maybe even just a hug

Whatever you decide, he’s super quick to give it to you, and he doesn’t complain at all

In Satan’s mind, it’s the least he can do to make up for scaring you like that 

Asmodeus

He was probably live streaming the whole argument

Or just sitting there, laughing at his brothers for getting into such a dumb fight

When you run off, his happy, albeit mocking, demeanor is gone, and replaced with concern

Asmo has never seen you run off like that, and he’s immediately following you to make sure nothing is wrong

Eventually, he finds you in your room, and his heart absolutely shatters 

He hates seeing you like this, especially when he or his brothers are to blame

Definitely much gentler than most of his brothers when it comes to comfort

Keeps his distance for a bit so as not to scare you any further

Asmo is the type to wait for you to come to him instead of crowding you right away

He’ll give you as much time as you need, even if it takes all night

When you do come to him, he is ready to give you whatever you may need

If you want a snack or drink, he is running to the kitchen without any hesitation to grab you something 

If you want a bath, he’ll draw you one, and he’ll even use his fancy products if you want him to

Even if you just want a hug, Asmo gives some of the best hugs around, and he’ll hold you for as long as you need

Does not ask you any questions since he doesn’t want to send you back into that headspace by accident

He’ll listen if you wanna talk about it, but he won’t pry if you wish to keep it quiet

Asmo also makes sure you know his brothers didn’t mean to upset you, and that they also feel very sorry 

Offers to spend the night with you so that you won’t be alone, and so that he can watch over you

Beelzebub

Beel is not one to engage in much family drama

Usually, he’s just there to defuse the situation when it gets too out of hand

In this situation, I imagine he was standing around, waiting just in case he was needed 

When he sees you run off, he’s quick to follow you to make sure nothing’s wrong

Before he even gets to you, Beel can kind of guess what’s wrong right away 

He figures it had something to do with the yelling, even if he doesn’t know the full story

Beel’s natural form of comfort is food, so that’s what he relies on to comfort you right now

Once he checks on you to make sure nothing is going to scare you again, he runs down to the kitchen to get you a snack

I imagine Beel is also the type to stalk up on any foods or snacks you might like, both from the Human World and the Devildom

He gets every snack he knows you enjoy, and heads back to your room

Seeing you in the same position as before is a good sign to him, since it means nothing big has happened since he left

He’ll sit down near you, not too close just in case, and he’ll put down the pile of food between you

Beel isn’t the best at words, so he chooses to stay quiet for now, knowing you’ll come to him when you’re ready

For now, he sits next to you, trying his best to refrain from eating all of the snacks since he brought them for you

If you do decide to vent to Beel, he’s a great listener, and will let you talk about whatever you want to without saying a word

He’s not the best with advice, but he is pretty decent at reassurance, and that’s exactly what he does

Beel reassures you that none of his brothers will hurt you while you’re here, and especially not while he’s around

But if you’re not feeling up to talking, he understands

He does try and encourage you to eat, even if only a little, since he knows it’ll help you gain some strength back 

Beel is also good for hugs if you want them, and he is very gentle and soft with you

Belphegor

Belphie also isn’t one for fighting all that often, so he’s probably just lounging off to the side, watching shit go down

Honestly, he usually finds his brothers’ fighting to be pretty entertaining, so he’s never really minded it

When he sees you run off in tears, he’s confused, and even considers just leaving you be

In his experience, when someone runs off crying, they usually want to be alone for a while

But something else compels him to follow you, so he gets up and walks to your room

Debates on whether or not he should go in when he still hears you crying, but decides to just screw it and walk in

Even if he’s good at masking it, he is genuinely distraught at seeing how messed up you look in this moment

To be honest, he’s not the best at comfort since he’s usually the one receiving comfort from his brothers, but he tries his best

Most likely just flops down on your bed and sits there in silence

He knows it’s probably not the best idea for him to talk first, so he waits patiently for you to come to him

In the meantime, he slowly begins getting closer to you, careful to to make you uncomfortable or scare you off

With your consent, he pulls you down and cuddles you until you start to feel a bit better

At this point, Belphie is all ears if you wanna talk

If you do decide to rant to him, he listens very well 

He also makes sure you know that his brothers meant you no harm, and that they certainly felt sorry about upsetting you

However, he gets if you don’t want to talk, and he offers to just stay with you and cuddle longer

The two of you will likely stay cuddled up for the whole night, and Belphie makes sure you get plenty of rest

[little-fics]

glass

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: you break a plate on accident, your daddy and uncle Dean come to the rescue.

Warnings: age regression, broken plate, triggered reader, hints at abuse, blood, cut, anxiety/panic attack, I could've missed some so please babies, read at your own risk

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: really like this oneeeee, thanks for reading lovelies <3

You're walking through the kitchen, minding your own business, and you collide with the sharp corner of the table. The plate resting in your hand hit the floor, shattering. In a split second you're panicking, the sound of broken glass reminding you too much of your bad days.

Memories flooding through your head, voices booming all around you. You're looking at your hands, the slippery culprits now shaking like a leaf. Your vision is spotty, lungs burning, air barely coming in, face losing feeling soon. Your eyes move to the shattered ceramic, overflowing with tears now. You realize the 'mistake' you've made and start clumsily shuffling around. You're picking up the biggest pieces, placing them as soft as you can in your hand.

Sam instantly heard the plate break, immediately jumping up from his chair in the library. He was rushing to you, and when he arrived in the doorway, he takes in your rattling body. Your breaths are choked, whole body racking as you're picking up pieces of glass? Sam instantly rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, "You with me baby?" A hand coming up inches away from the hand holding the pieces of glass, his other coming around to your shoulder.

As you're picking up a piece Sam places a hand on your shoulder and under your hand holding the glass as gently as possible, but it still scares you. You let out a loud gasp, clenching your hands together, another sob coming out of you, "I-I'm sorry-" He lifts you from your squatting position, pulling your legs around his waist. He's rubbing your back, whispering in your ear as he carried you, "Shhh, my little baby, nothing to be sorry about, you're okay, it's okay." You're sobbing, shaking, mumbling ''m sorry' over and over, you can't open your eyes, you're just stuck gripping onto him and struggling to breathe between broken sobs.

He sits you on the counter next to the sink, your legs and arms still around him. "Hey, baby," he's trying to reach you in your thoughts, "baby, can you look at me?" He's rubbing your back, feeling the wetness grow on his back, knowing he needed to check it. After about fifteen seconds, he decided he had to check your hand. He brought his hands to your ears, taking a deep breath and turning his head as far away from you as possible, "Dean!" His voice was dripping with fear and concern. Your body jolted when he did so, and he felt it, instantly consoling you, "Oh I know, daddy was so loud and it was scary. I know baby."

Dean does into the room, hearing your cries echoing through the room as he sees the back of Sam's shirt covered in blood that's coming from your hand? He's rushing over to you, softly speaking to you, his hand hovering over your wrist, "Hey, little one, wanna let Uncle Dean see your hand for a minute?" He gently grabs your wrist, slowly leading your away from Sam's neck.

You're starting to calm down, Sam's scent engulfing you, his words bringing you back to him. "It's okay bug, I now it's scary but daddy's here. Take a deep breath for me, come on." You're trying to follow along to him, Dean pulling your arm away from him bringing some feeling back into your arm. Your breathing is still scattered, but doesn't burn as bad, Sam's voice coming in clearer as you hear the water coming on. "You feel my hand on your back sweetness?" He makes big circles on your back, applying the slightest amount of pressure. You enjoy it for a moment, trying to take good breaths for your daddy, then nod to him. "You think you can tell me what letter I'm making?" You nod again, "Okay, remember to keep focusing on what I'm writing yeah?" Another nod, and as he starts drawing lines on your back water hits your hand causing you to let out a small cry and jerk your hand away from Dean.

"Hey, baby, you gotta let Dean make sure you're okay," his other hand is enclosing your face, kisses planting on top of your head, trying and succeeding in wrapping you in his love. He continues, "Focus on my hand baby, what letter is daddy drawing?" Dean's hand touching your wrist barely registers as you focus on the letter. You hiss at the water rushing over your hand again, shaking your head at Sam, letting him know you don't know the letter. "Okay, let me do it again," he traces two exaggerated lines on your back, forming a L. "What letter baby?" He is wiping away some stray tears as you choke out, "L."

Sam hums happily, "Such a good, smart girl, it was L!" His voice is soft and soothing, Deans movements on your hand becoming a little more noticeable as you start to breathe better. "Ready for the next one?" You nod keeping your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He traces a circle on your back, then a line, you shrug not sure, a little too distract by the thump thump thump of his heart. "Circle," he traces a circle, "and a line," he traces the line, repeating the letter once more. Your voice is wavering, not confident in yourself, "a?"

He rubs your back gently, delivering kisses where he can reach, "So smart! Let's see if we can get another, yeah?" You nod, Sam sensing the small amount of eagerness and feeling relieved that you're starting to get back to being his happy little girl. He starts a point at the top of your back, drawing straight down and circling back. I know that one, you thought happily. Your heart skips a beat, excited to show your daddy how smart you are. "That one's d!"

Sam smiles even though you can't see him, knowing that you're gonna be okay. He's been watching Dean, wanting to make sure you were okay. It was a long cut but not deep, spreading across the inside of your fingers. Fingers bleed bad, and look scarier than they are. "Okay, okay, you're too good at this!" A small nuzzle into his chest from you, the praise pleasing your tiny headspace. He traces a v with a tail on your back, causing you to giggle, "I know the word!" He chuckled, "There's more!" He see's your brows furrow in consideration before speaking solemnly, "Okay, papa, write it."

His heart swelled, his perfect baby makes him feel magic running through his veins. He traced, another vertical like and circle, opposite from the d, and you bounced on the counter. "Yes, daddy! I know it!" He glances at Dean, who is putting small gauze and tape over the slices on your fingers, Dean focused on his task, but smiling at you and Sam. Sam speaks softly, but with admiration, "Ya hear that Uncle Dean? My girls got it!" Dean's voice dripping excitement, "Well I don't know what it is! Tell me what it is sweet pea!"

"Issa ladybug right?" Sam quickly litters kisses all over your face and shoulders. Your arm moved around his waist, face burying into him as he makes you blush with his words, "Genius baby! So smart and perfect, did so good!" You're giggling at him, Dean letting go of your hand, "All patched up sweetheart. You wanna come with me and watch some toons while daddy cleans up?" You squeeze to Sam, not wanting to let go, causing his heart to break a little. "Baby, Daddy's got some blood-" you try to raise your head but he stops you, "Little girls are too small to see things like that, right angel?" You blush, nodding, "Yes, daddy."

"Good girl, now I need you to keep your eyes closed while Dean grabs you, real tight 'til he says okay?" You nod, placing tiny kisses on his chest. Dean reaches for you, your eyes close real, real tight. Dean takes Sam's place, moving you to the other side of the sink. Sam's hand didn't come off your back, gliding with Dean. "Good girl," he butterfly kisses your nose consistently, letting you return it with a giggle. "He's gonna clean your hand, and I'm gonna go clean up." He kisses your forehead and you whine when you feel him leave.

Dean is quickly rinsing off the dried blood on your other arm that transferred from your other hand as he shushes you, "I know bug, just a second." After he finishes, he prepares to lift you, speaking softly, "Keep those eyes shut darlin'." When you nod, he lifts you, carrying you out of the kitchen, careful to avoid the plate and blood in the floor. You feel him lean, but keep your eyes closed, clinging to him tightly. He straightens back up and walks you to the tv room, sitting on the couch softly.

"Alright baby," he tapped your shoulder twice with a feather tap, "open up." You lift your head, greeted with Deans wide smile and a lavender beaded pacifier in his hand. You hummed excitedly, bouncing up and whining slightly when he didn't give it to you. He puts it against your lips, your mouth happily taking it in and sucking on it, laying back down on him.

After no more than ten minutes, you're squirming. You want your daddy, not uncle Dean. "Peanut," Dean sighs, "daddy's coming, give him a minute, yeah?" You whine, fussing a bit, Dean stands with you, pushing your head into his neck. He starts pacing the room with you, bouncing you slightly. You're still squirming a little, trying to escape his grasp. "Wan' papa," you whisper, Dean feels a tear slip onto his shoulder and he's shushing you. "He's coming baby, he's gotta get real clean! You don't like when daddy's stinky do you?" You giggle a little, shaking your head, "No stinky papa." Dean coos at you, "That's right little girl, daddy needs to get to smelling good again, doesn't he?" That elicits a heavier laugh from you, tucking yourself back into his neck.

Around ten minutes after that, Sam walks in, holding a pair of rainbow leggings and one of his t-shirts. His hand comes to your back, nodding you out of your sleepy state, and you're instantly reaching for his arms. "Papa," your hands find his shoulders to support yourself while you transfer arms. "I know baby," he's holding you now, but it's short lived when he gently sets you on the couch. You're whining and whimpering, reaching out to him, being careful not to squeeze your sore little fingers. He shakes his head, "No baby, don't you wanna get these uncomfy clothes off of you?" When he says that you realize how tight the clothes you're wearing are, how rough they feel against your skin. You're suddenly squirming, pulling at your clothes messily.

"Oh little girl, arms up now." He's speaking softly but sternly, causing you to stop moving and lift your arms. He picks up your shirt, lifting it up over your face and back down, making silly faces at you repetitively, "Where my baby?" the shirt is covering your face, "There she is!" He moves the shirt out of the way again, only stopping when your giggles die down. He slides his shirt on you, it was a little oversized on him, it swallows you. You're bunching it in your hands, whining when he pulls down your rough blue jeans. He slides the leggings on, the soft, stretchy material making you kick your legs playfully.

Once the leggings are all the way up, Sam grabs your ankles, laughing at you, "Oh! Daddy's got you now little ladybug, what you gonna do?" You giggle at him, a blessed sound to Sam and Dean, twisting your body in unnatural ways to try and escape the mean ankle monster. "Papaaaa," you kick your legs a little seriously, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows, a test telling you that you know better than to hit your daddy. "Pease papa, jus' wan' you hol' me." You reach your arms up and Sam's heart melts.

He tickles up your legs, grazing your sides, causing you to twist and turn again, before he's lifting you by your underarms, putting you around his waist. Dean comes in, you're not sure when he left, but he's got your favorite spaceship sippy cup and your reaching for it. He laughs, handing it to you as Sam sits with you. "I thought we could watch Tink, you wanna watch Tink peanut?" You nod at Dean, he presses a kiss to your cheek and plays the movie, Sam letting you adjust so you can watch the television.

Despite your sore hand, it was going to be a good day with your daddy and uncle Dean. They know when you need extra attention, know when you're gonna be their little baby and they wouldn't change it for the world. They just wish that you wouldn't have regressed this way, forced by a trigger violently. They know you're hurting so they're gonna be by your side all day long.

[pingutats]

could you write a really fluffy bit on harry kissing every single self harm scar on your body? like, stroking them and cuddling with you and reassuring you that your body is beautiful and okay even with scars? 🥺

thank you for requesting this! this was genuinely quite therapeutic to write so i’m glad i did it — it’s longer than i meant it to be at about 2.4k words, but anyway. here’s a difficult conversation with new boyfriend!harry. 

major trigger warning for discussions of self-harm and scars. this is not a story for everyone, and could definitely be triggering if you are not in the right headspace. please be responsible and look after yourselves <3 

this is also pretty unedited so forgive any mistakes. okay!! onwards!

It’s getting late when Harry asks you, ‘Do you want to spend the night?’

The meandering film you found on Netflix is drawing to a close, finally. The characters are on a boat, drifting away into an Italian sunset. You barely have a grasp of how they got there — mostly, you just listened to Harry talk over the dialogue about a pretty little café he knows just around the corner from where this scene was filmed, or how cool the water gets at night there and so the actors must have been shivering. All of it wrapped up, of course, in a quiet suggestion to take you there someday so you can see for yourself. You get a little thrill every time he says something like that. It means he’s thinking of a future with you, which means he wants one, even though it’s only been just over a month since you’ve been seeing each other.

He trails his fingers up and down your arm, bringing up goosebumps beneath your sleeve, and looks at you. ‘Or I can drive you home, if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.’

You hum. ‘No,’ you say. ‘I’ll stay. I’d probably end up falling asleep in the car anyway. I’m so tired.’

His dimple appears. ‘Good, because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.’ He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, then pushes himself off the couch with a groan. He holds his hand out for you. ’C’mon, then.’

You grab his hand and he hauls you up, his other arm coming up to your back to pull you into his chest. You fall against him, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. The two glasses of wine you’ve had tonight have thrown your balance off. He presses a kiss to your hair as you giggle. Then he brings his hand up to your jaw to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You nearly melt at his green eyes.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’ His gaze is completely sincere.

You haven’t slept together before, both in the literal and figurative senses. You haven’t had sex with anybody at all, actually, and Harry seems to have picked up on your hesitancy. He’s never asked for anything. He lets everything stay on your terms. 

That’s what makes you trust him.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you tell him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, just to make sure. ’Right,’ he says, breaking into a smile.

He finds a new toothbrush in his cupboard for you, and you brush your teeth together. It feels like a big step to do these nighttime rituals with him. It’s so domestic. He shares his cleanser with you and offers his moisturiser that smells like vanilla. You imagine spending every night like this.

As he leads the way back into his bedroom, he pulls his shirt off. ‘I get hot at night. D’you mind?’

You giggle — you can’t help yourself, at the sight of his muscled torso with all of its tattoos. He’s so handsome. ‘Not at all,’ you tell him.

He throws the shirt into a hamper in the corner, and the birds on his chest seem to fly with the movement of his shoulder, then looks back to catch you ogling him. He chuckles, and the sight of his dimples gives you butterflies.

‘You like?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes. ’Are you flexing?’

He relaxes. ‘Yeah, a bit. Just wanna impress you.’

You snort at that. ‘Like you need to do anything to impress me.’

He grins. ‘D’you want something more comfortable to sleep in?’ He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, then pulls out a t-shirt and holds it up for you. It has an incredibly faded image of Flinstones characters on the front. ‘How’s this?’ he asks.

You smile at his courtesy. ’Perfect. I love your t-shirt collection, by the way. Where the hell do you find things like this?’

‘Oh, you know… Here and there.’ He tosses it to you.

You catch it with some semblance of grace — you’re proud of yourself for that. ‘Thanks.’ You glance at the bathroom door. ‘Alright. I’ll just… get changed in here,’ you say, slipping through the ajar door.

‘Alright, love.’

You shut the door, and realise you’ve forgotten to turn the light on, leaving you in pitch-black. You grope against the wall for the switch and turn it on, and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous, so frazzled? It’s just Harry. You shimmy out of your leggings, then pull your sweater over your head.

You look at your reflection. Well. There’s a problem. It’s easy for you to forget when you’re alone, or wrapped up in layers of clothing — it’s just a part of your body now. Artefacts from a different time, years ago. Even the memory of how you got them — how you gave them to yourself — is slipping away, thank God. It’s all a haze. These scars were carved by a girl that you don’t see much anymore. They aren’t really a painful reminder anymore, just a fact of life. You know they're there. The problem is, no one else expects it.

You stare down at your wrists, seeing the lines that never faded. Maybe if they were all like the thin white lines, barely visible until you look closely, you wouldn’t mind. You’re going to sleep, anyway, and it’s not like he’s inspecting your forearms. No, it’s the three darker ones, hard twisting scar tissue that you can feel even through sleeves. Times where you went just a little too deep, were a little too reckless. The ones you regret the most. They’re big, and ugly, and too obvious. He’d notice them right away.

But he gave you his t-shirt.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brows. You adjust your pose, twisting your arms around so the inside of your wrists are hidden, facing behind you. You look ridiculous. You know, as soon as you see Harry, you’ll reach for him, and he’ll see.

Would that be so bad?

You look down at your arms again. It’s been years, and they’re still there. They’ll probably be there forever. They’re as permanent as the tattoos on his skin — except those are beautiful, and what you have is not. You can’t show this to him. The world where these scars exist, and the world where he exists, should never cross over. It wouldn’t be right.

You pull your long-sleeve back on, covering them again. Then you put the t-shirt, which is long enough to be modest on you. This is fine, right? It’s better than any alternative, at least.

You leave the bathroom holding your folded sweats up to your chest, nervous now realising that you are standing in front of Harry in just your underwear, more naked than you ever have been in front of him.

He’s checking something on his phone as he sits on the bed, back against the headboard and long legs stretching down the covers, but he brightens up at the sight of you. His gaze drops to your legs — which makes your cheeks burn, but his boyishly excited expression dissolves your nerves — then rises up again to your shirt. He frowns at the long-sleeve. 

‘Are you cold?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was pretty warm but I can turn the heat up if you need.’

You shake your head, dropping your sweats on the floor beside the dresser. ’No, it’s fine.’

He sits up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so his feet rest on the ground. ’Can’t be comfortable to sleep like that.’ He hesitates. ‘You didn’t have to wear the t-shirt if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I want to. I do.’ You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation in a way that won’t end in him being annoyed or disgusted. ‘It’s just…’ You trail off, but one glance at his frown, at the way he leans forward and hangs on every word, makes your resolve crumble. You’ll have to have this conversation at one point or another. ‘Okay. Shit, Harry, can I talk to you about something?’

The way he answers immediately makes you want to cry. ‘Yeah, of course. Anything.’ He sits up straighter, pats the covers next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You sigh and cross the room to sit next to him, not daring to meet his eyes. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves his arm behind you once you’re sitting. Not touching you, but enough so he’s close. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompts. ‘Do you need me to drive you home instead? Because I didn’t—’

‘No,’ you interrupt. ‘It’s fine. It’s just, I kinda…’ You take a deep breath. ‘Okay, please don’t freak out?’

He frowns. His next words are measured. ‘I’ll try not to. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ you whisper. It feels like the greatest effort in the world, but you curl your fingers around the end of your sleeve and pull it up, revealing your wrists. ‘So, I have these…’ Your voice shakes.

‘Oh, baby,’ Harry says quietly, and that’s all you need to hear. His arm behind you reaches around and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close to him. His thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as you sniffle, his other hand resting on top of yours.

‘It’s in the past, you know,’ you say, muffled into his shoulder. He smells good, you notice. Not that it’s really important right now, but you appreciate it all the same. ‘Not a big deal. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything. ’S embarrassing.’

‘Listen to me,’ he says, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. He waits until you manage to look him in his eyes. They’re watery, you realise, and that might be the most painful thing about this night. ’It’s not embarrassing, alright? I don’t want you to feel like that. They’re part of you, and I really like you, every part.’ He smiles. ‘I really do, you know.’

You sniff, wiping at your cheek with your fingertips, trying to calm your tears. Suddenly all your fears seem ridiculous. Did you really expect him to turn you away, disgusted? Ask to never see you again? You knuckle at your eyes. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He springs from the bed to grab the tissue box from the dresser and brings it to you, pulling out a tissue and dabbing under your eyes himself. He’s so gentle. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, that you were worried to show me.’

You chuckle, grabbing a tissue from the box and blowing your nose. What more can you say to him? He’s so wonderful to you. It’s early days still, and you’re wary of moving too fast and coming on too strong. You aren’t experienced with relationships in the same way that you know he is. But you love him. You’re sure of it. You’ll tell him, one day. Soon.

‘You don’t need to wear my shirt if you don’t want to,’ he repeats once you’re calmer.

‘I’ll wear it.’ And to show him, in your sudden burst of confidence, you undress right next to him, taking off both layers and then putting the only t-shirt back on. You turn to him, and giggle. He’s turned his head away. ‘You can look,’ you tell him, nudging his knee with yours.

He looks back with a sheepish smile. ‘Didn’t want to be a creep.’ He scoots backwards onto the bed, settling his back against the headboard. ‘C’mere.’

You crawl over to him, settling with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around your middle, anchoring you to him. He presses kisses to your neck, the scruff on his cheeks tickling you. You curl up, twisting your neck away, giggling.

‘Harry!’

‘Sorry, love.’ His hands relax, and find your own. He rests his chin over your shoulder, and gently turns your palms upwards, so your wrists are visible to him.

You shiver, but allow it. You feel this is important. You don’t want to hide with him.

‘Y/N…’ he says quietly. You feel his chest push against your back as it expands with a breath. ‘Am I… am I allowed to touch them?’ he asks.

You’re surprised. You thought he would want to avoid them. You nod, then, realising he can’t really see you, you add, ‘Yeah.’

Your fingers are tense. You can’t help it. His thumb presses into your palm, massaging the tension away. He pulls the back of your hand to his lips and brings it back to your lap.

You close your eyes.

When he finds the first hard lump of scarring with his thumb, he pauses. He takes a shaky breath, then he runs his thumb up and down the length of it.

‘Y/N,’ he says softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. ‘Mm?’

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ He pulls your hand back up to his lips, but instead he kisses the biggest scar on your wrist. ‘No matter what. You are.’

‘Harry,’ you whisper, because you don’t know what to say.

He kisses the scar again, then trails his lips up your wrist, covering them all. ‘I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. You survived. That’s a wonderful thing.’ He drops your hand and cups your jaw, turning your head towards his. He leans around your shoulder to face you properly. ’I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?’

You never were good at taking compliments, so you just cross the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

When you’re lying together in the dark a little while later, with his arm thrown over you protectively and his soft breaths hitting your neck where his t-shirt doesn’t cover, you feel safe. Your arms are bare, you’re with another person, and you feel safe in this situation for the first time in years. It’s a wonderful feeling. All because of Harry.

You can’t wait to wake up in the morning and see his face again.

[sukumen]

Your sukuna fics are literally everything to live for you write him so well😭 youre amazing, do you think you could write hcs of sukuna doing aftercare for his s/o i wanna know what you think it would be like bc i absolutely adore your writing😁👍

notes: honestly i have no words, this is such a kind message?!?!?!?! thank you so so much for this, i love you and i hope you love this too! it’s always fun to write a lil character study :)

warnings: implied / faint nsfw because aftercare - nothing super explicit, though; baby birding (with water)

truthfully, he doesn’t do it at first. rough sex is his standard, so he doesn’t see the need for aftercare, not on his own.

you take it in stride the first few times; too intoxicated by the way he fucks you to care about what comes after. but, eventually, you have to admit that anything long-term --- even if it’s just casual --- needs that dynamic and end things when it’s clear he doesn’t understand that, or care to.

you stay apart for some time, interaction limited to a spike of his cursed energy or the appearance (and lewd grin) of a mouth or two when you cross yuuji’s path.

anything to get you to break so he doesn’t have to.

but he finds quickly that you’re a lot more stubborn than he gave you credit for ---- and that he finds the challenge of it intoxicating.

anyone that’s easy to tame is easy to forget.

so, like his binding vow with yuuji, sukuna gives a little to get what he wants. he can’t find anyone that he wants nearly as much as you, after all, so aftercare feels minimal in the grand scheme of things.

so, what’s it like once he starts doing it?

everything is from your explicit direction. he doesn’t take orders well, sure, but he doesn’t know enough about aftercare to be creative; so you have to guide him quite a bit in the beginning and tell him exactly what you want.

after that, it’s like a routine; he doesn’t do a lot, but is incredibly diligent at everything he does.

some of your favorite parts of that routine ----

baths: sukuna has a tendency to bend your body in ways you never knew it could, leaving you satisfied but incredibly sore in the aftermath. soaking in a warm bath is a nice way to recover and having him be the one to draw it is just icing on the cake. the view, first of all, is to die for; that spread of corded muscle from his shoulders to his ass as he pads off to get the water running. If you have your wits about you, you might whistle for a show that he refuses to give you, but teases all the same with a wink over his shoulder. the first few times he did it,  he left you to make your way to the bath yourself; but when he realizes that you’re far more inclined to invite him to join you if he carries you, he starts to do that without question, even if you insist you’re okay to walk.  

cuddling: this one, sukuna enjoys as much as you do. how can he not? it keeps your body against him for a bit longer, so he’d be a fool to complain. And if he’s lucky, and works you out enough, it’s all you have the energy for after sex: to be held and to hold him. you prefer when he makes you little spoon; the way he dwarfs you with his legs slipped between yours and his face tucked against your shoulder is exactly what you need. his warmth is comforting, grounding, even when his cock is growing again against your back and depending on how worn out you are, the safe feeling that comes usually turns into another, more tender round where he ruts into you from behind.

hydration: this one is just a necessity. sex with sukuna is taxing and you’ve tried to go about your day afterwards without rest and ended up woozy (he likes to say he knocked you out -- as if). so, regardless of how out of it you are, this part of the routine is non-negotiable. typically, he’ll just bring you water or a snack and watch to be sure you keep it all down. but, if he really unravels you (see: subspace) and knows you can’t be trusted to do it yourself, he’ll sit you in his lap, bare back to chest, and feed you himself. he has one hand over your tummy, stroking the skin idly, while the other holds a bottle or food to your mouth. most times, you’re obedient, preening at the praise from him that usually follows (“look at you, listening so well”); but sometimes you’re too restless in whatever headspace he’s fucked you into, which usually results in him taking the water into his mouth and duping you into drinking with a kiss. it’s sloppy and obscene frankly --- but it gets the job done, and he gets to enjoy himself in the process.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

okay i know this is really dark but i’m into that shit. if you’re still active, could you do one about sirius being 19, and at his and james’ flat (james is out doing something) and he uses the mirror to call james because he wants to commit suicide? and james comes in and stops him from cutting and tells sirius he loves him and that he isn’t horrible and they kiss and hug and stuff?

((A/N: In accordance with the prompt, Sirius is depressed and not in a good headspace)) 

Sirius's hands were shaking. Not violently or anything, but because he was cold. He didn't know why he felt so cold. The air around him was warm, which he only knew because as he brought the mirror up in front of him to call James, his lips hadn't gone purple. 

He didn't want to call James, but he knew that he had to. The last time he'd felt like this and he hadn't called him, James had been so mad that Sirius had been sure he was going to walk out-- he hadn't; in fact, he'd insisted that Sirius call him the moment he realised he could use someone else's presence. Sirius didn't much understand that, but he knew that James was right. When he thought about it when he wasn't like this, it made sense to him. He didn't like an audience. The moment someone else-- particularly James or one of his other mates-- was in the room, he calmed down a little. Not much, but enough for him to be backed away from the ledge, so to speak. 

James had told him a hundred times that Sirius wasn't going to bother him by calling him, no matter what time it was or what James might be busy doing. Sirius knew all of this, but when it came time to pull James away from his night out with Remus and Lily, he hesitated, thinking that maybe this would be the time that James got mad at him. 

He activated the enchantment on the mirror so that its match in James's pocket would vibrate until he answered it. The tremble in his hands was barely noticeable now that he was holding the mirror up in wait, but it was still there. He started biting the nails on his free hand as he waited so he didn't do something... more damaging. James didn't like it when he bit his nails, and in the moment, Sirius forgot why until he tore one too close and a sharp strike of pain went through his fingertip and started bleeding. Slightly panicked, now, he shoved the tips of his fingers against his muggle jeans and hoped that the bleeding would stop quickly enough that James wouldn't see it when he came home. He would come home, right? He always had in the past when Sirius called him, but what if this was one time too many? What if-

The thought stopped in its tracks when James's face appeared in the mirror. "Hey man, what's up?" James asked. He could try and pretend all he wanted that everything was fine, but the worry lines next to his eyes gave him away. 

"I- erm." Now that they were face to face-- as it were-- he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. He didn't even know what he was supposed to say. Saying that he needed help might be the truth, but it felt pathetic, and if there was nothing he could handle right now, it was feeling even more pathetic than he already did. "You... told me to call." 

There was a brief flash on confusion, but it was quickly covered as James figured out what he meant. "Yeah. I've just got to say goodbye real quick, and then I'll be home, okay? It'll only take me a couple minutes." 

He lowered the mirror but didn't let go of it. It wasn't really a conscious decision, but he only let go of it when James walked in and gently pried it from his fingers. 

"Hey," James said. He sat on the bed next to Sirius and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "D'you want to watch something on the telly?" 

Not really. "Sure." 

James knew him too well to believe it, so he said, "We can do something else. What do you wanna do?" 

"I dunno," Sirius said. 

"That's okay. Maybe we can just find something to eat, and-" James paused. He'd been reaching for Sirius's hand. The hurt one. And James noticed everything, when it was about him. Well, almost everything. 

Sirius shrank in on himself. "I didn't mean to," he muttered. "I was waiting for you to answer, and I needed something to do with my hands, and it tore on accident. I wasn't trying to do anything." 

"Yeah." James swallowed thickly. He brought Sirius's fingers up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to them. "Yeah, I know. I just worry. I'm sure it gets annoying, and I'm sorry for that. I just love you so much that I don't want for you to ever be hurt, you know?" 

James told him that he loved him all the time. He always meant as a friend. Sirius nodded. But. "I wish you'd stop saying that." 

"Saying what?" 

"...That you love me. I know you mean it, I just- I get confused when you talk like that. Sometimes." 

"What do you mean? What would you think I meant by it?" 

"That you're- y'know, in love with me. I know you don't mean it that way, but like I said, sometimes it's confusing and I don't know how to deal with it." 

James didn't answer for a second, but Sirius didn't worry that something was wrong. He just sat there, with James's arm around him and focused on making sure he was breathing. It didn't hurt to breathe. When James did answer, he kept his voice low, almost intimate. "What makes you think I don't mean it that way? I haven't come right out and told you because I don't want you to feel pressured or like you can't trust me to just be here for you as a friend. You mean everything to me, Sirius, and I'd hate myself if you didn't call me because you felt like you shouldn't. You know what I mean?" 

He shook his head, and when James moved to pull away-- not leave, just give him some space-- Sirius caught his arm and held on tight. "I can't-." He stopped and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't, right now." He wasn't about to confess that James was the love of his life when he felt so unbelievably like rubbish. 

"No, no, that's okay. That's good. You don't have to say anything. I just didn't want to brush you off and make it sound like I didn't care." He pressed a kiss to the side of Sirius's head. 

"Yeah." Sirius swallowed. "Radio or summat." 

Another pause as James figured out what he was talking about. Then, "Sure, we can listen to the radio." 

*

The next morning, he wasn't altogether surprised that he woke up next to James. They usually fell asleep in the same bed when Sirius got... like that. Waking up the next day was like having a hangover, only instead of getting the joys of drunkenness, it was misery piled on top of misery. He had a headache even though he hadn't cried last night. At least, he didn't think he had. He couldn't really remember. 

Parts of it were fuzzy, but as he laid there, he became more certain that James had told him he was in love with him. Talk about shite timing, right? How was Sirius supposed to respond to that? How did he bring it up, now? 

He dealt with it the way he dealt with everything else: he blurted it out and hoped that James understood what he meant. 

"You have, like, the worst timing in the world," Sirius said, nuzzling into his chest. James's heartbeat against his nose was oddly comforting. Odd because it was a beat against his skin, not because it was James's heart-- he already knew that he liked that. 

"Funnily enough, I knew that," James said. "Thoughts?" 

"I love you too, but dating isn't going to change anything." 

"I think it would change a lot of things, actually." 

"You know what I mean." It wouldn't fix Sirius's problems. It might help a couple things that got stuck in his head, but it wouldn't fix everything; he knew that much. 

"I do, but I think you also know what I mean," James said. 

He didn't answer for a moment. Not because he was trying to draw out suspense or anything, but he was having trouble getting his brain to connect to his mouth. It was usually like that on his not-really-a-hangover days when he tried to think about what he was saying. So he hummed and pressed a kiss to James's shirt instead of trying to put words together. 

In return, James kissed his head again. He understood what Sirius meant, like he always did. Thank Merlin, Sirius thought with a sigh. He wasn't sure he could handle a deep and meaningful conversation today. 

[lyssismagical]

64 and 3?

3 - “You’re cute when you’re worried.”

64 - “Did they hurt you?” 

  Nine days.

Peter had been missing for nine days.

No trace of him anywhere no matter how hard Tony and Harley tried. He was just gone.

And Harley is losing his mind.

“Harley, c’mon, let’s get you up to bed, alright? You can eat and sleep and then, in the morning, you can keep searching, okay? You can’t stop taking care of yourself just because-”

He doesn’t even bother peeling his eyes away from the screen in front of him, rolling with security footage, cutting off Pepper’s concern, “No. I need to finish going through the footage. I’ve got twelve more blocks of footage, about four dozen security cameras.”

“How long’s that going to take you?”

“I don’t know!” Harley knows he’s angrier than he should be. He’s irritated and flustered and desperate because his boyfriend is gone. He’s gone and Harley’s scared and the world feels like it’s ending. “I don’t know and I couldn’t care less! I’m going to go through the fucking footage no matter how long it takes me!”

Pepper’s face falls with a sigh, moving to sit down beside him. She’s got this sad smile on her face, sympathetic and pitying. “Harley, sweetheart, I know you want to help but combing through security footage that FRIDAY’s already scanned, isn’t doing any good.”

“What do you want me to do?” Harley demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what you want from me! I can’t just go to bed like everything’s fine, Pepper. I can’t- I don’t want to-”

She’s there, hands gentle and easy on his back, guiding him into a hug when he breaks, tears curling down his cheeks and breath hitching. He’s not okay, he’s so miserable, he wants Peter home and in his arms and safe more than anything.

“I know you’re scared, Harley, I get it. I’ve been in this situation before with Tony, he’s gone missing plenty of times before, but I promise, we’re doing everything we can. You’re not doing any good by working yourself to death down here.”

Harley lets out a pitiful sob, wishing more than anything that Peter were the one holding him instead, that he could breathe in Peter’s cinnamon body wash or the vanilla shampoo he uses. He wishes that he could feel Peter’s warmth, arms always so strong and tight around him, shorter and lean and right.

“I want him home,” Harley says, incapable of stopping himself from the pleading desperation that leaks from his tone. “I want him home and safe and here and with me.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you do, we all do. But right now, all we have to do is wait.”

* Harley spends the night in Peter’s bed where he’s been exiled until at least seven in the morning. FRIDAY’s watching him to make sure he doesn’t set foot in the lab or the office. He barely eats the food May offers, and eventually he can’t take the awkward small talk and locks himself in Peter’s room.

The bed still smells like Peter. Like cinnamon and vanilla and the vaguest hint of gunpowder and blood from the nights he drops into bed with his suit on after patrols. His blankets are all rumpled from the last time he slept in them, ten days ago, one of them on the floor, one pillow cover stained with what looks like blood on the underside.

It’s the closest thing Harley’s got to Peter.

He doesn’t sleep all night, curled up in Peter’s bed, alternating between crying and trying not to cry. He drifts off a few times, but never for long. He can’t stop thinking about Peter, wherever he may be, if he’s even alive.

Eventually, though, seven in the morning rolls around and he finally leaves Peter’s room, clutching one of Peter’s hoodies to his chest. It’s too small to fit him comfortably, Peter’s a decent half foot shorter and Harley’s shoulders are a lot broader, but he needs to be able to feel like Peter’s close, like he’s safe.

“Anything?” he asks as soon as he sees Tony, Pepper, and May in the kitchen.

They all look up, eyes sad and mouths set in firm lines, echoing expressions of misery.

May’s the one that speaks. “Nothing right now, honey. You want breakfast?”

“Coffee?” his voice is shaking and high. “I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat last night-” Pepper starts but Tony shakes his head. A silent conversation passes through them and Harley assumes they’re arguing whether or not it’s worth it to try to make him eat breakfast.

Eventually, though, it goes quiet and May passes over a mug of coffee. Almost immediately, Harley has to put the mug down, breath hitching.

Peter’s Graduation Mug.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry-” May says, already reaching to take the mug back but Harley’s quick to grab it first, cradling it close to his chest almost protectively.

“It’s ‘kay. Thanks.”

Tony goes to say something, probably to excuse himself back to the lab, when a cellphone rings.

They all go fumbling for their phones, but it’s Harley’s.

“Hello?” His voice is too high, too broken like he’s expecting it to be the worst news.

“Harley?” It’s Peter. He sounds upset, hurt, tired more than anything. “I, uh, I escaped but I don’t know if they’re following me still. I found a payphone and this lady lent me the coins for a call. I just wanna come home, Harls, please- I- I don’t know where I am, but I- I-”

Harley sinks to the floor, phone cradled to his ear. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay? You’re not- You’re not dyin’ on me, are you?”

“I’m okay. Just get Fri to track the call and come get me please. I want to come home and take the world’s longest nap with you. Please, Harls.”

He waves at Tony, who’s hovering over him with the other two adults, and points at his phone, nodding when Tony mouths Peter?

“Of course, honey, I’ll find you, don’t you worry. I love you.”

“Location Found,” FRIDAY says, voice a comforting lilt. “Coordinates have been uploaded to GPS systems. Near Wilmington, Delaware.”

Harley lets out a pathetic sob of relief, drawing his knees up to his chest, phone pressing harder into his ear. “Give us like two hours, okay? And we’ll be there. Can you do two hours?”

“Okay.” Peter somehow manages to sound even more miserable, voice trembling. “I love you too.”

“I promise. Two hours tops.”

It’s hard to hang up the phone on Peter. Peter who’s scared and alone, two states over, probably hurt and tired and alone. But the moment he hangs up, he’s quick to jump into action, the faster he moves, the sooner he can get to Peter.

“I’m driving,” Pepper says, grabbing the keys from the counter before Harley can reach them.

“I need- I-”

May settles a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. “He’s going to be fine, Harley, but you’re not in a good headspace to drive. Let Pepper drive.”

He’s still holding his phone, Peter’s sweater bunched up in one arm and mug balancing in one hand which Tony gently pries from his grip, and he pulls the sweater up to his face, breathing evenly to try to calm the erratic hammering of his heart.

May guides him forward and he lets her, goes willingly, until he’s being pushed into a seat, buckle clicking closed. He gets passenger somehow while May and Tony take the backseat.

By the time they’re leaving New York, Tony and May have both passed out, sleeping soundly for the first time in over a week. Pepper’s back is straight, face set in determination as she picks up the pace on the backroads.

Harley finally feels like he’s waking up. “He escaped on his own. Ran away.”

Pepper looks over briefly, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I’m not too surprised. I’m just scared for the day people don’t underestimate him.”

“I just wish this would stop happening… Somedays, I wish I could just tell him to hang up the suit and not look back, to stop putting his life in danger, to stay home and stay safe. I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.”

“Trust me, we all wish we could ask him the same thing. But the truth is, he wouldn’t listen to us. Spider-Man is the most important thing in the world to him, we can’t change his mind as much as we’d sometimes like to.”

* Pepper barely has the chance to slow down before Harley’s throwing himself out of the car.

“Peter!” he shouts, voice rough and hoarse from the lump in his throat.

His boyfriend is laying in the grassy hill behind the payphone he’d called from. He’s only wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants, chest and feet bare. His hair is greasy and tousled, eyes only half-open, heels digging into the dirt.

He lifts his head, though, when Harley calls for him, and he offers a lazy smile.

Tripping over the sidewalk, Harley barely manages to make it to Peter, racing up to the hill and dropping to his knees at his boyfriend’s side.

Up close, Harley can really see the damage, though.

Cuts and bruises paint their way up Peter’s torso, covering him in every hue of the rainbow. There’s a deep gash by his temple that steadily bleeds down the side of his face. His wrist is cradled against his chest, arm wrapped around his stomach, one eye swollen nearly shut.

“Oh god,” Harley breathes, hands hovering uselessly between them. “I thought you said you were okay! I swear to god, Peter, I- We should call a Quinjet, get you to a doctor, we should’ve just brought Cho with us, made it easier. Are you sure you can last two hours in the car? What happened? Does it hurt? I-”

Peter lets out a laugh, tapering off into coughs at the end but still there and just as bright as ever. “You’re cute when you’re worried. I swear, I’m okay, Harley. Tired, sore, starving, but okay. Look, the worst of it’s already healing.”

It’s true. The gash on his head is slowly stitching its way together, wrist straightening out again. His healing will take care of the rest by the time they make it home anyway.

Harley tugs Peter into his arms, wary of the wounds, and peppers the safe parts of his face in kisses. “Thank god, don’t you dare do that to me again, I was worried sick about you!”

“I’m okay, Harley, really. You can relax. I’m safe.”

Finally, Harley feels like he can breathe, holding Peter in his arms, being able to kiss him and breathe him in and feel his warmth, instead of the sweater he’d been using to pretend. He doesn’t smell like vanilla and cinnamon anymore, more how he normally smells when he drops into bed after a patrol, but he’s still Peter. He’s still here. He’s still in Harley’s arms, where he’s meant to be.

“How about that nap, huh? We’ve got two hours in the car to catch up and then all the time in the world when we get home.”

Peter smiles, a little dopey and too happy for somebody who’d been held captive for nine days, but Harley would give anything to see that smile for the rest of his life. “Sounds perfect, Harls.”

“I love you,” Harley says because he doesn’t want to go another minute without making sure Peter knows.

“I love you more.”

Harley laughs, pressing a long kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. “I seriously doubt that, but I’ll let you win this one.”

He’d be happy if Peter won every time as long as he gets to hear it.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere Headcannons BNHA

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. This is not a good depiction of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

Uh no v serious warnings; Manipulation mentions, kidnapping mentions, and just this is a lot of heavily influenced trans reader headcanons because I’m having a lot of gender struggles rn and that’s where my headspace is atm and this is also after and or during when you’ve/re been/being kidnapped and conditioned,  a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already),

Bakugou Katsuki

This man loves you and you know it. 

If you meet him in middle school and don’t like his original persona he’s gonna adjust it around you to slowly lure you in

He wants to be yours no matter what he sacrifices and if giving up his pride is what it takes so be it

He only shows his affection through physical gifts and touch because words of affirmation are not really his specialty.

He loves the idea of you being submissive towards him even if you’re not a girl.

Loves holding your hips when you’re doing something, especially if you’re good at cooking and make him stuff once you’ve become more docile and have stopped fighting him on leaving

So if you are trans or otherwise in the LGBTQ+ community for gender stuff he will do the most to make you comfortable. Binder? You didn’t even have to tell him your measurements cause bby he already knows 

It’s who you are and he accepts that but it’s also a pride thing. 

It’s also a way he tries to gain your trust in the early stages of your kidnapping. 

He sees this as a way to prove he’s the only one out there who would take care of you and accept you so well, this also gives him more reason to tell you you belong there because of what happens to “your community”

If you think he doesn’t know before you come out to him then you’re wrong. He knows everything about you and nothing will get in the way from making you his.

He’ll only get you T-shots and other stuff like that if you promise to not talk to anyone else at the doctor’s about your relationship. 

But the best part about all this is how absolutely submissive you’ll be under his care while you recover after surgery

Izuku Midoryia 

There are a lot of things I see that headcanon Deku has a whole book on you but I feel like this boy has an entire series of books

He has taken notes on you since he met you and has a color coded system of books that detail on your beginning years too once he gets them out of your friends or family or even just you

If you met him before he had his quirk he would probably kidnap you once he got his quirk

He spent a lot of time writing how he would kidnap you if he had certain quirks

Anyways, he loves to lay his head on your stomach

He also likes it when you’re just writing or drawing and he can watch, writing things down is a very personal part of his life so when someone as special as you does it he gets all sappy and heart warmed

If you ever get the chance to look into one of his books about you and you complement him on it he will not be able to handle it

If you’re trans he will immediately start using your pronouns in the correct form

He wants to give you as much respect as you deserve so he just uses them naturally it’s just the way of things

He’s very nervous about getting you a binder, it’s just scary for him

He also goes back into his notebooks and changes your name and pronouns

He looks intensively into research about binders, T-shots, and surgery

He lets you get a binder after you say I love you the first time

Lets you get T-shots after your first year anniversary of being conditioned to be in love with him

Todoroki Shoto

So this boy is not very interested in talking to you when you first meet

It’s just he’s so scared that he’s going to mess you up and drag you into his own mess so he waits until he’s better or gets better to contact you

He loves to stare at you

Just while you’re doing nothing or asleep, especially when you’re talking though

He loves touching your hands and giving you things

He doesn’t really talk to you though and as much as he loves to watch you talk to people he just likes how quiet you are around him

He likes to make you food, even though he doesn’t know how to cook he’ll start learning for you

He’s def the big spoon no matter how tall you are around him just def the big spoon

If you are trans he’s just gonna nod it off then cuddle with you afterwards

He’s just super calm about everything

Top of the line binders and T-shots and check-ups by a special doctor that’s sworn to secrecy

Actually tracks down someone with a quirk that can modify your body permanently without surgery

But if he comes up fruitless in the en-devour (lmao) he will let you get surgery and will love how dependent and you get on him after 

You’re just so sleepy and quiet but you’re submissive and cute

Will cry if you call him babe when you ask for something and will beg you to do it more and will get you 2x whatever you’re asking for

Has to remind himself often of your pronouns in his head but never slips up when speaking to you

Kaminari Denki

Okay this man loves to touch you. Like no warning just loves to put his hands on you

Hips and thigh guy I don’t make the rules

For some reason he likes to grab and stroke up and down your bottom half of your rib cage.

Puts his legs around yours when you’re sleeping

Likes to scrub your back and take care of you in a bath, not even in a sexual way (besides bath sex and fondling turn him off because of his quirk)

grabs the little part of your hips and thigh where they connect to your but and just squishes it

Gets so flustered when you wear yellow

But loves to see you in a pastel yellow even if you don’t think you look good he’ll always say how amazing he thinks you look

Tons and tons of compliments

absolutely loves holding your hand 

Says I love you within the first couple minutes of kidnapping you

Power Bottom no matter your gender

If trans he will def go and get you a binder

Will make sure you don’t tell anyone about your relationship if you go get T-shots and stuff by holding your hand and giving you a little shock every time you get too close to saying something

Gets you tons of sex toys that help with dysphoria during sexy times (like thanks but ur a perv kami)

He doesn’t want to risk you if you get surgery so he will wait a couple years before he allows you to

Kirishima Eijiro

He actually saw you at the entrance exam for UA and he just immediately had hearts in his eyes

This boy is clingy af, if you even look away for 2 seconds he’ll start whining

Wants you to be the most comfortable person in the world

He likes the idea of you being the picture perfect little darling, cooking and cleaning and waiting for him to get home he wants you to depend on you

He needs you to depend on him! What is he good for otherwise? 

Touch starved tbh

He likes to cuddle you when you first get kidnapped, like if you don’t let him touch you he’ll start crying

If you keep rejecting him he’ll get delusional instead and will just hug you anyways

If you’re trans and you want to ask him for stuff to make you feel comfortable like a binder he’s gonna use this to his advantage

You wanna shop for a binder? Two how cuddle session and he’ll consider taking your measurements

It’s gonna be hard for him to think of the safest way to get you testosterone or other hormone injections and stuff

He’s just concerned

Will lowkey try to convince you to drop the idea but if he’s not already delusional enough to ignore your feelings and you start crying then he’s just gonna comfort you

It’s gonna take a year or two to convince him but if you become more submissive and obedient for him he might be persuaded

In the end he’ll get you surgery and other things like that but he’s gonna need to speak to 30 different professionals about this just to be 200% sure it’s the right move.

Iida Tenya

Tenya isn't the most aggressive when it comes to things but he’s very stern and patient so he’ll have a little more freedom with disciplining you

He likes to hug you from behind

He starts to slowly stop raising his hands and yelling cause he knows it disturbs you and makes you flinch, plus you listen better when he whispers

When you cuddle he puts his legs between yours cause he wants you hold you whole

He covers his engines when y’all sleep together so you don’t scratch yourself on them

Lets you paint and draw and write but only under super vision and he analysis your work after to see how you feel

Compliments you a ton

Stern in the bedroom, very daddy/dom nothing else will do

Likes to compliment you

Loves it when you smile at him

Wants you to be comfortable out of any other option

If you’re trans then he’ll be pretty much the same as Shoto

Top of the line products and binders

Will be the first out of both of you to suggest surgery

Wants to look for a doctor with many experiences before he even asks you tho

You gotta admit that he is very sweet throughout the whole process and very supportive

He will also give you a personal doctor, but he will also have to sit in on sessions and the like to make sure you’re not concocting a plan to escape or anything

Thank you for reading this! Have a lovely day and if you have any suggestions just ask! However I can’t guarantee I’ll do everything. Maybe I’ll do a part two?

[skzafterdusk]

han jisung + “Put My Hands On You”

This was requested from the Dean Title Track Prompt List I posted where you can pick an SKZ member and a song for a drabble fic

Word Count: 1.9k words

tags: angst, fluff, and (mentions of) smut- oh my!

Summary: That friends with benefits trope we all know and love. Even though Jisung is sure you’d end up in his bed no matter how, he wishes you guys had met on different terms. 

Jisung doesn’t have many regrets in life, but he wished you and he had met differently, not in a way that was so...typical. But he’s sure no matter how you guys did end up meeting each other, you’d both still be in this same position:

The lights off, the street lamps and vibrant nightlife of the city just outside his window enough to illuminate your bodies, enough for him to enjoy the way your naked back concaves. In the warm glow of those street lights, the muscles in your back dance to their own beat, or maybe it’s the rhythm of his hips as he pounds into you. And even with your moans muffled by his covers, there’s a silence that fills the air in a comforting way.

The chemistry had been palpable from the start with you two. Still, Jisung wishes it had been under different circumstances. Then, perhaps, you wouldn’t feel the need to leave after you’ve washed up. Maybe then, you would just lay with him, allowing him to admire the way your lashes were conditioned and soft from your own tears of pleasure, and the red tint to your swollen lips. 

But alas, your meeting Jisung was so typical it was swaying on the border of unbelievable. 

See, the thing is, Han Jisung wasn’t normally the person to go to clubs. Sweaty bodies, crowded rooms with a majority of its clients under some sort of influence...the music is too loud and never quite that good-

Yet, there he was, at a club, out of obligation because that’s the sort of thing that comes with the job description as a singer, an idol, an artist.

It’s this fun little thing called “networking”, and if he wanted to get a producer as well adored as Seo Changbin to agree to help create what would undoubtedly be a record hit for the young artist, Jisung needed to be there, that night, up at the producer’s booth in the VIP area.

But all of that had already been worked out by then. The deal had been made, numbers were exchanged, and Changbin offered Jisung to party with him the rest of the night. Again, his acquiescence was purely out of obligation.

It meant, though, that when Jisung insisted on going down to get himself and Changbin some drinks so he could move around, he would bump into you, leaning against the bar, waiting for your own drink.

It doesn’t stop Jisung from asking to buy you a drink, more out of a loss of a way to actually talk to you.

You’d looked irresistible that night, silver earrings and a matching necklace adorning your skin, your outfit of choice seemingly made just for you with how well it fit, accentuating everything that Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes away from.

You raised your glass with a warm smile, answering his idiotic question. You wanted him to know that you weren’t meaning to tease him or even turn him away. Simply, he needed to try again, and find another way to spark conversation.

“Sorry. I didn’t notice your drink. Kinda just saw you.”

You scrunched your nose, but still giggled at his words. This wasn’t your first drink of the night, but even in sobriety, he would have seemed cute.

“That was fuckin’ cheesy, dude. But thanks.” You had to lean in close so he could hear you without yelling at him. The lights weren’t that dim, but you then realized why he looked so familiar, and gasped. “Oh, woah. You’re Jisung! I listen to a lot of your music.”

Stricken with flattery, said artist had been brought to stillness, unsure of how to respond. A simple thanks seemed too lame, and too much like the end of the conversation. But he didn’t want to come off as creepy.

And you’d caught onto his inability to respond. Even if you hadn’t known this man by name or face, he still was just very...cute.

“Are you here with someone else?” you asked.

“Ah, I’m getting drinks for me and my...uh, I’m getting drinks for someone in VIP.” And, as if on cue, the drinks magically appeared in front of him. “Would you wanna...join...me?”

Your eyes grew big in shock. “You want me to come up with you to VIP?”

He shrugged. “You seem like you’re fun.”

You grinned brightly, already picking up your own drink. “I can be tons of fun.”

And, to Jisung, he’d never met a person as honest as you, ever. You introduced yourself easily, and led Jisung through conversation that he may not have been able to initiate himself. The night carried on in that way, and it had been you that offered Jisung’s moment to exit for the night.

A goddamn lifesaver.

“Not the partying type?” you inquired once you were out in the open night, the cool air of early fall sending a chill down your spine.

“Not really,” the singer confessed. “I like being with people one-on-one, y’know?”

You stood closer to him. Although there wasn’t the same need to lean in for him to hear you, you still whispered your words as if you had the biggest secret. “We’re alone now. Or we can be.”

After your first night together, he thought he could write a song about you. He could wax poetry about the way your thighs felt gripping his waist, or the way your light touches sent him into a headspace almost foreign to himself, some place he’s only been to in his dreams. He hadn’t thought much about it when you left that night, cause you turned at the ajar door, leaving the gentlest peck on his cheek. Warmth had spread through his chest, and he thought he could write about that as well.

But he held off, waited until you texted him a few days later, asking if you could see him. He offered to make dinner for you first; you obliged, but you never made it to the bedroom that night, and most of the food had to be thrown away because of its inedibility. 

Jisung doesn’t remember the night that the warm spread through his chest began to ache like his heart wanted to crawl out of his chest. You still liked to kiss him before you left, but you were still leaving.

Maybe if he’d met you at a coffee shop instead, or maybe on your way to your university campus, then you wouldn’t feel the need to leave so suddenly. Something about clubs screams fun for one night or just plain fun in general. Maybe you think the night means sin and nothing else.

But now, Jisung’s head is pounding just as his heart, blood pumping through his veins as he crashes from his release.

You rest your head on his chest even if your skin is just as damp. 

“Think you have another round in you?” your words still sound breathless, like you’re desperately chasing for air.

Jisung’s body reacts to the words, thoughts already filling his head at the hope of fucking you again. But the desire scalds him in an almost pleasant way.

“Gonna have to give me a few minutes.”

You grin, lifting your head from his chest. “I can wait.”

The silence is soothing, and the artist likes the way the air cools you both down. It makes him feel like he can say anything daring. So he does. 

“You know...you don’t have to leave after we finish. You can stay here...sleep here.”

“Really.” 

Jisung turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are on your fingers as they draw patterns on his chest. The way you asked...it hadn’t sounded like a question at all. It sounds almost...accusatory.

“(Y/N), did you think you had to leave after we were done?”

You shrug, but you finally match his gaze. “Artists are a different breed, and I understand it. I understand how you like to find the beauty in the mundane, and how it can feel life-altering when beauty gets you drunk. People that constantly think about words are always trying to find the best way to…” you sigh, finding the right words, “Always trying to find the best way to get people to feel how they feel.”

“But, what does that have to do with us?”

“I’m okay with you craving beauty in others, needing to find out who you are with me or with someone else. There’s so much emotion to be had that ironically, words and labels can put a damper on-”

The artist huffs, sitting up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “If you don’t wanna date me, just say it. Don’t try to soften the blow because you pity me.”

“Pity? How have I ever pitied you?”

“You didn’t think I noticed the way you handled me the night we met?”

Sitting up, your brows lace together in confusion. “You were shy. I thought it was cute. I still do think it’s cute.” You remember the way you felt about him then, how the idol with adoring fans seemed to stutter over his words as if it mattered what he said. 

You place a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers walk up his neck, massaging and petting at his skin. His head falls into your hand, chasing your touch. For as open a person you know yourself to be, it’s possible that you have been holding yourself back from this man.

“I would love to date you, Jisung.” Your words are soft and sincere. “I just didn’t want to rush anything because I was happy with just getting to see you, kiss you...touch you. And if you didn’t want to learn more about me, I was okay with that, too.”

“But I do. Probably since the moment you sat next to me in that booth. You let me be me and you didn’t ask me to be something I’m not.” He leans back, your faces suddenly so close to each other. “You don’t know how many nights I wanted to grab your arm and pull you back into the bed, just so we could talk until the sun came up, or how much I want to send you cheesy pictures when I’m in the studio. Hell, I’ve even wanted to drive you home if you absolutely couldn’t stay the night.”

He kisses the hand still holding his jaw, and whispers, “Anything to just spend more time with you.”

“Cheesy,” you reply. “But...I’d like that, too.”

You don’t really understand the warmth that spreads through your chest as he smiles at you so sincerely. It’s a barely there lift of the lips, and yet you grin happily.

“So,” you start, biting at your bottom lip. “Are you ready to go again, or…”

His low chuckle brings you back, excites your body with anticipation. “I still need some time, but we can always start with you.”

You’re not mad at the suggestion. “Do what you wish.”

Jisung still thinks he could write a song about you. The words come so naturally, feel just as right as the way you moan in his ear and whimper against his mouth. And he does. The lyrics are sprawled on napkins, parcels of paper, and behind his eyelids. He’s excited to know what else he could write about with you in his life.

Val’s Note:

I hope you enjoyed this next installment in the Dean Title Track Fic series. This one isn’t gratuitous smut, and I’m sorry if that is what you are here for. But This song sparks more than sex even though...that’s literally what the song is about. Hopefully it still is a good read. Tune in next time!