#my drabbles;

[hellishvxbes]

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔'𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝓈

                   ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ―   Fizzarolli felt the weight of his shoulders sag as he gently set the concealer back onto the cluttered surface of his dresser, its cap clicking shut with a finality that echoed his frustration. The reflection in the mirror loomed before him, an image he hardly recognized, his features shadowed by doubt and despair. It had been so long since he had truly looked in the glass and felt even a flicker of appreciation for what stared back at him. 

                  That fateful day of the fire lingered in his mind like a haunting specter, transforming his reality and leaving echoes of loss and pain rippling through every aspect of his life. He had lost his closest friend, a bond that once grounded him in a chaotic world, and along with that, he had sacrificed most of his own physical form. Vivid memories of grueling physical therapy sessions flooded his mind—each session felt like a battle. He recalled the frustration and determination as he navigated the challenges of adapting to his robotic prosthetics, clumsily maneuvering them with the same wonder and trepidation as a toddler learning to steady their first steps. It was a painstaking process, filled with both setbacks and small victories, as he grappled with the stark contrast between what he once was and what he had to become.

                It wasn't so bad anymore; his life had transformed into something truly enchanting. There were moments when he cautioned himself against voicing any complaints, reminding himself of those less fortunate—people still battling the confines of limitations, whether they were born with them or acquired them through the unforgiving tides of life. Most of the time, he found the strength to suppress the shadows of negativity that threatened to creep in, allowing himself to revel in the vibrant existence he had painstakingly carved out. 

                Even when the familiar throb of pain coursed through his body, or when his mechanical arms faltered and crashed, he struggled silently against the agonizing sensation of phantom limbs. It was a cruel trick of the mind; the relentless ache would often bring him to tears, a haunting reminder that, no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer experience the simple joy of holding someone close. The emptiness of that longing would settle in his chest like a stone, tormenting him even as he persevered through the challenges of his extraordinary life.

              As dawn broke, he meticulously prepared for the day ahead. He reached for the consealer, carefully applying it to the burn marks that marred his skin, each dab a temporary shield. The familiar weight of the hat settled upon his head, concealing the jagged edges of his broken horns—a constant reminder of his struggles. It all felt like a mask, a facade he donned every morning, hoping desperately to be seen as just another face in the crowd, as someone "normal."

            Despite his outward appearance, he had transformed his challenges into something remarkable. He poured countless hours into honing his craft, his robotic limbs transforming his once-limited abilities into a symphony of skill and artistry. Behind closed doors, the warmth of a partner’s love enveloped him, a connection that saw beyond the surface to the essence of who he truly was. 

           Yet, despite these accomplishments and the support he cherished, a heavy cloud lingered over him. Why was it so agonizing to perceive himself through the lens of others' admiration? In moments of reflection, he could only seem to identify the flaws and inadequacies that he felt defined him. He could play the role of the confident showman in public, throwing quips and bravado into the air like confetti, concealing the vulnerability that lay beneath his vibrant exterior—a yearning for the days when he felt whole, an echo of a past he could never reclaim.

            He longed for the vivid vibrance of his red skin, a radiant hue that once glimmered with life. He reminisced about the graceful sweep of his horns, their beauty both striking and majestic, framing his face in a way that felt powerful and regal. There was a time when glancing into a mirror filled him with confidence; he saw not just a reflection but a celebration of his own beauty, rather than a hurried inspection to ensure every detail of his makeup was flawless, that not a single flaw dared to surface. He longed to experience the warmth of another's skin beneath his fingertips again—an intimate connection that seemed to transcend the mere existence of physicality. These arms and legs, although capable and strong, could never hold a candle to the essence of what he had once embodied, an embodiment he now mourned every day. 

[v1x3n]

thinking about trueform sukuna who loves overstimulating you to the max. you're riding him - well, not really. your sat up on his cock but two of his hands are gripping your hips, bouncing you up and down furiously.

one of his cocks, the bigger one, stretching out your poor pussy. reaching so deep, your stomach bulges out, showing the shape of his mighty cock. his other cock wasn't as bulky or tall as the other one, but it was still bigger than any other mans. that one was stuffed tight into your puckered hole, filling you up nicely. you couldn't get away from the pleasure as sukuna forces you to swallow his length over and over again. taking him whole was a hard thing but with a bit of force, you could do it.

the tongue that slides out from his stomachs mouth, licks a wet glob of spit on your clit, lapping at the small bud.

you whine loudly, tears brought to your eyes. you squirm, trying to get away as your legs shake angrily. "what's the matter?" his soothing words would have been nice despite his mocking grin that plasters his sweaty face.

you mumble out slurred words, while his two free hands are attached to your boobs. grabbing, grasping and pinching the skin. your nipples already swollen from the clamps he had clasped to them earlier. slight red glows at your sensitive nipples. you mewl loudly, tears dripping down your chin as you moan repetitively. your legs shake with a violent pace.

cum lashing out from your pussy, dripping down his cock as you squirt all over him. the mouth on his stomach seems to groan at the taste, lapping it up. his hands bounce you angrier, desperate the take every drip from in you.

your messy hair wafts around, sticking to your skin slightly. sweat covers you as your body is worn out from the past hour. "su-hah!" you moan out loudly. eyebrows pinching together.

"take it." he groans out, head falling back in laughter and pleasure. a hand that grips your hip harshly moves up to your stomach, pressing down hard. you whine as spurt out more liquid. "fucken messy girl."

[sgtgarricks]

simon would sit you on his lap and feed you meat he’s cooked to perfection after his hunt. if you let out the slightest of moan from the taste this man would instantly get bricked up. has a praise kink. loves to see your reaction to his food.

“mmm, you like that lovie?” while you just nod excitedly.

sometimes you really can’t help yourself so you start grabbing his hand and sucking his fingers into your mouth. you’re not even trying to be sexy about it! it really is that good!

too bad, because he will lose his shit and immediately drag you to the bedroom and give you another serving of #meat

[sacred-treasure]

smut, 18+, mdni

nasty!toji who spits on your pussy while eating you out just to watch it slide down your puffy folds until it dips to your entrance. shoving his tongue inside your hole and fucking his saliva deeper inside, chuckling against you when he feels you clench around his hot tongue. “you like that, sweetheart?” words hot and thick against your sticky cunt.

toji gets impatient with not having an answer and pulls away just to spank your pussy. “asked you a question,” he barks in a sharp tone, catching your attention. you immediately squeal, voice breaking with a “y-yes! oh god, i love it, toji!” you can barely make out a muffled, “good girl” before he’s spreading your folds open wide, watching as you blossom pink and flushed for him before licking up your slit and sucking your clit directly into his mouth.

nasty!toji who lets his tongue wander when he’s going down on you, slipping inside your ass and feeling your pussy clench around his fingers that are still stuffing your cunt full. “quit squirmin’, mama,” he pulls his fingers out, coated in your slick, just to meanly slap your pussy twice before spreading your thighs further.

his tongue licking around your puckered hole, the one no one’s touched, “gonna let me be your first doll? want me to fill you up the way no man ever has?” his voice deep and rough, eyes flaring with something possessive, getting off on corrupting you.

nasty!toji who fucks you hard just to see you squirt on his chest. his thrusts are nothing short of cruel, swollen tip pushing against your abused g spot over and over again. you feel the pressure building, your thighs threatening to close from the intense feeling but toji won’t have it.

no, his calloused palms are shoving your legs apart and driving his hips even harder into the same spot. you try to warn him, voice wavering with each rough crash of his pelvis against your ass, but he only presses his hand down on your lower stomach, amplifying the sensation until you finally spray.

his chest is glistening from your gushing pussy and you feel a wave of embarrassment knowing you’re the direct cause for the sheen on his abs. before you can think too much about it, toji’s pulling out and diving face first into your cunt.

he licks at your folds, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit as your juices continue to flood his face despite you trying your hardest to make it stop. he runs his face back and forth across your silky skin and groans hoarsely, basking in your taste as he shoves his tongue inside your pussy.

“toji!! s’ too much—fuck!” you cry out, muscles giving out as you try to push his head away. he pulls his head back only to spit on your pussy, giving her two more rushed licks before sitting up on his knees once more, stroking his cock and fucking you right back in the same rhythm, a dirty combination of slick and squirt decorating the lower half of his face, coating his lips and that damn scar you love so much.

nasty!toji who fucks you in missionary just to watch you cry. the way he rams his cock into you is nothing short of mean, his eyes half lidded in lust and his fingers intertwined with your own as he holds them above your head. you’re rendered helpless, forced to take every rough thrust of his hips even when it’s too much. your cunt begins clenching around him too tight, the slight pain that the stretch of his fat cock gives you growing more intense with each relentless thrust.

you can’t even help the big tears welling up in your lash line or your bottom lip quivering as you begin to pout at him. “t-toji, it’s too deep. fuck, you’re too deep!” you begin to whine out, head turning back and forth against the plush pillow, body being run for all its worth and feeling the twitches throughout your frame in an unfamiliar pattern—you’re at your limit. and he’s still not through.

“just gotta make sure i get all of it, you know this, ma,” his nose is dragging along the column of your throat, his balls slapping wetly against your ass as he ensures every inch of his cock is snug inside your overstimulated pussy. your eyes shut and the tears begin to fall, your heels digging into the dip of his spine to pull him even deeper, body conflicting itself and somehow still begging for more.

“there she is, that’s—shit—that’s my good girl,” he praises once he feels you pulling him in even closer, head pulling back to look you in the eyes before flattening his tongue against your jaw, licking all the way up your cheek and savoring the salty taste of your tears.

“taste so sweet when you’re cryin’ for it. this poor little pussy can’t get enough even with all your whinin’,” his words are punctuated with a rumbly chuckle before he begins lapping at the opposite side of your face. his wet tongue moves slowly across your skin, the humiliation causing soft sobs to fall from your swollen lips but his hips never stop moving. his leaky tip rams against your cervix with each thrust while he presses a wet kiss to the corner of your eye. “so pretty when you cry, just makes me wanna fuck a baby into ‘ya.”

nasty!toji who can’t help himself from eating his own cum out of your pussy. he’d long since lost count of how many times he felt your cunt flutter around him, coming over and over from his insatiable desire to fuck you for all he’s worth. he didn’t give you time to recover after an orgasm, and if you’re honest, you can’t be sure you can tell the difference between one ending and the next one washing over your overstimulated body.

toji had inhumane stamina and sex happened to be one of the places it showcases the best. he can go for hours, never getting bored of your broken moans ringing through his ears or that frothy ring of your cum that coats the base of his dick. but when he does finally come, it doesn’t mean he’s anywhere close to being done with you.

nasty!toji fills you with so much of his cum that it can’t possibly all fit inside of your poor, abused pussy. it spills out even with him still driving his hips forward to push it deeper, making a mess of your thighs and his heavy balls as it overflows. toji simply doesn’t care and groans out in a raspy tone as he feels his orgasm last longer than normal, his cock somehow still filling you with more of his hot, sticky load.

when he eventually pulls out, he’s immediately dropping to his stomach and pushing the backs of your thighs towards your chest. you’ve never looked so messy before, he’s sure of it, as he licks up the thick stream of white pouring out of your sloppy folds. his eyes shut as he revels in the taste of your combined cum, bumping your clit with his nose while his tongue laps at your quivering entrance as he cleans up the mess he made of you.

[xoxojisu]

"DON'T STOP LOVING ME."

synopsis: things were always easy between you and katsuki. until suddenly, they weren't. (aka you pull back and katsuki notices and hates it)

notes: ALWAYS w the unofficialbf!katsuki agenda. wc ~5k. childhood bffs bc duh. barely proofread sorry

ever since you were three years old with your scraped knees and sticky fingers to now, where teenage life could not be more confusing, there has always been one, unwavering, constant fact.

you're absolutely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with bakugo katsuki.

and you've never been afraid to show it! backhugs, tackling him to the floor, jumping on top of him and climbing him like a jungle gym, telling him you love him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. (it is)

he always scoffs and grumbles, but you'd never take it personally, because when he tells you to get off, he pulls you close. when he complains that you're annoying when you're sick, he brings you soup and medicine and cuddles you to sleep. when he blushes and tells you he hates you, his eyes tell a different story.

so what if he doesn't express it the same way you do? everyone has different ways of showing they care. even if he doesn't say it much, you know katsuki loves you.

right?

-

it was late when you accidentally overheard it. when you froze up and felt your heart drop to the floor. when you started shaking and sweating, eyes darting around for a trash can in case you threw up.

"bakugo, bro, when are you and y/n gonna make it official?" kirishima had teased, throwing an arm around katsuki.

katsuki scoffed and shoved him off. "tch. it's not like that."

"you suuure?" sero questioned. "you two seem awfully close for just friends."

"mannn, if i was bakugo, i'd be all over that. y/n is such a pretty girl!" kaminari chimed in, clearly jealous over his lack of love life.

the teasing continued. you couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew that katsuki definitely had a vein on his forehead that was getting larger by the second.

"you're always carrying her bag, walking her to class.."

"cuddling with her during movie nights, scratching her back.."

"oh! and don't forget how she never forgets to tell him she loooves him whenever they say goodbye!"

"c'mon, bakubro, just spit it out! you two are practically married already!"

the three laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the rise they were getting out of katsuki.

"all of you, shut the hell up!"

"just admit it. you're in love."

he gritted his teeth.

"i'm not in love." he grimaced, venomous anger bubbling to the surface.

"she's just there all the fucking time! always fucking doing girlfriend-y shit when she knows damn well she's not! always clinging and trying to cuddle and all that stupid sappy shit. she's just an annoying fuckin' habit ive learned to tolerate." he spat.

you froze.

what?

was he serious? like, really, truly, deadass serious? you knew he wasn't exactly the super affectionate type, but even still! you thought he really cared about you! clingy? annoying? tolerated?

your head spun as you broke out into a cold sweat. you could've sworn that that wasn't true. you and katsuki have been friends forever. surely he wouldve gotten rid of you by now if he hated you that much, right? and he cuddles you! and hangs out with you! he takes care of you when you're sick! there's just no way, right? he's just angry because he's being teased, right?

..right?

"damn, dude, that's pretty harsh," sero snickered. "you always take care of her, though, no?"

you held your breath.

"tch. doesn't fuckin' mean shit. just gotten used to her because she's been around so long."

your stomach dropped to the basement. he tolerated you. he thought of you as nothing more than an annoying habit.

insecurity pooled inside of you. now that you think about it, was he really cuddling you, or just not bothering to move you off when you laid on him? maybe he just thought you were too much of a hassle to get rid of when you came to hangout, so he just let you stay even thought he didn't want to. when he brought you medicine and stuff, maybe your sickness made you delirious and made you think he was being more affectionate and caring than he really was.

you felt nauseated. you recall all the times you threw a quick "i love you!" over your shoulder or while you clung to him. had he ever once said it back? ever? the room started spinning as you realized you couldn't think of a single time. he'd always deflected. gave you a classic "tch." rolled his eyes. messed up your hair. you dont think you'd ever even heard the word "love" from his lips.

had you just been deluding yourself all this time?

you couldn't take it anymore. sweating, you sprinted out before you could be spotted.

-

it's been two days since you overheard that conversation, and you'd been avoiding katsuki ever since. or rather, not quite avoiding completely, but there was an undeniable shift in your behavior. you stopped trying to cuddle with him. you stopped showing up to his dorm room to hangout. you especially stopped saying "i love you," even though it killed you every time.

katsuki hadn't shown much of a reaction to your change in behavior. he'd raise an eyebrow when your usual daily hugs disappeared or ask a gruff, "where were you?" when you didn't show up to your unofficial but completely established after school hangouts, but he had otherwise put up no protest.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or heartbroken.

on one hand, katsuki's kind of scary when he's confrontational. also, you don't know how you would be able to talk to him. "i overheard a conversation where you said you hate me but im madly in love with you and want to marry you and have your kids?" yeah right. you were sort of glad to be getting off easy.

but on the other hand, you were devastated. his apathy served as further confirmation that he meant every word he said. he really didn't mind that you were pulling back, and seemed perfectly content not being nearly as close as before.

you really had been deluding yourself. secretly, you had been hoping that he was just saying stuff in the heat of the moment and would actually be upset if you pulled back. because that would mean he cared. but he didn't give two shits about you. you really were just some stupid childhood habit he'd learned to tolerate.

you became less energetic as a person. not just with katsuki, but simply in general. your days seemed unbearably longer and darker without him. you had a hard time engaging and staying in the present, your mind wandering to katsuki again and again. it was pathetic, really. you two had never even dated. why were you so hung up about it? you two were just friends, and in fact, it seemed like he never even liked you in the first place. you were just stupidly hopeful and naive.

-

katsuki was dying.

two days. it had been two fucking days since you'd touched him or even just been remotely affectionate with him and he was going crazy. hell, he'd give the whole damn world even for just a smile at this point. he was desperate.

he didnt understand why you were being like this. it was like everything he knew about you had shifted, and he was just standing there, waiting for some kind of sign or something like an idiot.

katsuki had noticed the shift in your behavior immediately. of course he did. he knows you better than he knows himself, after all. at first, he thought you were just playing some dumb game or pulling some stunt to get his attention, but that wasn’t it. you waved instead of hugging. said a simple "bye" instead of "love you, bye bye!" it's not like you were completely avoiding him. you still talked. you still laughed. only now, it didn't quite reach your eyes.

and it was fucking killing him.

he hated that you were pulling back. he hated how off everything felt. he hated how fucking empty his dorm room felt when you weren't there to pester him. but most of all, he hated how he couldn’t even figure out what he'd done wrong. he couldn't think of any fights or reasons to be angry, but if that wasn't it, what was it? why were you suddenly just.. leaving?

he wanted to confront you. he wanted to pull you aside and demand to know where the fuck you went. but for the first time in his entire life, he didn't know how. because this wasn't like confronting stupid deku about his new powers. it wasn't about asking icyhot what his fuckin' deal was. it was you. his whole fucking world, even if he never said it out loud. he was nothing short of terrified to ask, because he feared it would drive you away even further, and he couldn't think of any alternate universe where he'd be able to handle that.

he found himself looking for excuses to be near you, to talk to you, to just be around you in any way possible. the last two days had been a torture of silence, of missed chances to sit next to you or casually reach out and tug you into his space like he used to. the times when he’d shove his arm around your shoulders or playfully mess with your hair, it had all stopped. he didn't feel like he could anymore. like he'd somehow lost the privilege. and now, all he was left with was this gnawing feeling in his gut that something was horribly wrong.

he had finally worked up the courage and tried asking you once, but you had shut him down with that all-too-familiar "nothing, just tired" bullshit and that damn closed-off look on your face that made him feel completely hollowed out.

he was desperate. he needed to feel you. needed to hear your bright laughter and see your stupid smile. it was so fucking stupid and sappy and so unlike him, but he couldn't even bring himself to care about that. he needed to cuddle with you until you fell asleep. have you curl up on his chest and get swallowed up by his much larger frame and watch you as your breathing quickly evened out from his touch. you could never stay awake long when cuddling with him. he found himself smiling at the thought.

he scowled. this is so fucking stupid. he thought to himself.

-

it all came to a bubbling point for him on friday. 5 whole days of "hi's" and a half-smile instead of "KATSUKIIIII's," and a running hug. he was losing his fucking mind.

usually, you convinced him to join the weekly 1a movie night by taking his hand and dragging him out of his room. he'd grumble about it, but he'd never refuse. he'd sit on the corner of the couch and you'd sit close to him before gradually inching closer, the night ending with you two cuddling. now, he willingly trudges to movie night of his own free will and sits in the same corner of the couch, but this time alone.

the room buzzed with quiet chatter and the flicker of the TV as the opening credits rolled and iida turned the lights off. it was some dumb romcom movie katsuki couldn't bring himself to care about in the slightest. you would definitely like it, though. kirishima passed around popcorn, sero argued with kaminari over which movie was the best, deku was doing his stupid nerd rambling as todoroki and hagakure gawked at him. and you? you sat on the other end of the couch.

not just away, but away from him.

the usual spot right beside katsuki, practically in his lap, head on his shoulder, knees draped over his thighs sat empty. you sat next to mina instead, curling into the armrest and pulling your legs up to your chest. you offered sweet smiles to everyone, laughed when something was funny, made conversation when prompted. but katsuki saw it. he saw you.

and he saw that you weren’t you.

he stared.

throughout the entire first half of the movie, he barely processed a single second of it. he kept looking over, waiting for you to glance at him, to shift closer, to give him a sign, anything, but you stayed curled in on yourself, legs angled away from him. he hated it. he hated how you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller. like you were trying to disappear.

katsuki’s heart thundered. his leg bounced impatiently. his jaw was tight. he couldn’t take this shit anymore.

he stood up abruptly, catching your attention. he stalked straight over to you, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. he hovered over you, looking down and saying nothing.

you blinked up at him. "...what?"

his eyes were sharp and unreadable to most. but to you, who knew him better than he knew himself, you could see the anxiety and desperation swimming in his eyes.

no, no, no. remember, don't delude yourself. he doesn't like you, not even as a friend.

"are you okay..?"

"no." he snapped, his tone making you flinch. he softened at your reaction. "i just.. you've been.." he started, but his tone cracked, eyes flashing, and something in him snapped. "fuckin’ hell, just—"

he reached down and grabbed you.

gently, but with zero room for argument. strong arms slid under your knees and behind your back like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you barely had time to yelp before he was sitting down again, with you in his lap, pulled tight into his chest like you were his lifeline. (you are)

you froze, wide-eyed and stiff, but he just held you. his arms locked around you. he didn’t look at anyone else, didn’t give a shit about the stares or the knowing grins. he buried his face in your shoulder, muttering low and rough into your neck.

"i don't know what the fuck i did," he said. "but you don't get to just... take all that away. not from me."

you blinked, suddenly breathless.

he held you tighter. his voice cracked again, this time softer. "whatever i did, 'm sorry. i'll make it up t'ya, i swear. but don't just.." his voice trailed off. "dont stop loving me." he wanted to scream.

you felt your heart stutter, but you didn't say anything.

not at first, anyway.

because what is there to say when your heart is lodged in your throat and your body is caged in the arms of the person you swore you were going to get over?

you just sat there, crumpled in his lap like some lost puppy that finally found its way home again. your face is pressed into his shoulder, and you think if you speak, you’ll cry. so you don't. you just let yourself relax and melt into him.

he doesn’t say anything else either. his grip doesn’t loosen, not even a little. his fingers press into your back, not hard, just steady. grounding. enough to keep you pressed firmly against him. like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.

the room’s still noisy with all the side conversations, but it's all background noise now with you two just in your little bubble away from the rest of the world. you feel safe and like you’re about to fall apart at the same time.

you shift a little in his lap and glance up at him.

“…you didn’t have to drag me across the room, you know,” you finally mutter, voice hoarse.

he scoffs, eyes flicking down to meet yours. “yeah, well. you weren’t comin’ on your own.”

you wrinkle your nose at him. “you could’ve asked.”

“whatever." he grumbles. "this is more efficient."

you snort. "the hell?"

he shrugs, completely unapologetic. “worked, didn’t it?”

you don’t answer. because yeah. it did.

instead, you rest your head back on his chest, and he immediately shifts to accommodate you. your legs drape over the couch, his arm hooked under your knees to keep you anchored, and his other hand settled at the base of your spine. he starts tracing slow, absentminded circles there, hand slipped under your hoodie to rub at the bare skin like nothing had ever changed. like you hadn’t just gone five whole days without touching him. like you hadn’t spent those five days trying to unravel every version of reality where he didn’t love you back.

you sit like that for a long time.

finally, he speaks up, his voice low.

"what did i do?" he asked, his voice oddly shy. "why'd ya stop.. you know..?"

your breath hitches. because you do know. but you don't know what to say or how to say it. "i thought you completely hated me" doesn't quite seem like an appropriate response.

"nothing," you settle with.

he gives you a look.

you sigh. you never could lie to katsuki. he's known you for too long and too well to fall for them.

"i just.. got insecure. overheard some conversation where you said i was, um, clingy and annoying." you murmur, your voice small. if katsuki wasn't pressed up against you and hanging on to your every word, he wouldn't have been able to catch it.

but he did.

and you swore you saw complete heartbreak in his eyes.

you let out a small gasp of surprise when he pulls you flush against him, arms tight around your body and face nuzzled deep into your neck. he holds you with such a gentle intensity you think you might cry. he holds you in a way that makes you feel loved and safe.

"'m sorry." he mumbles into your neck, voice watery. "didn't mean it. i was just.. mad that they were makin' fun of me. none of it was true. at all."

your breath hitches.

"you're.. so fuckin' special to me. i mean it. these last few days without you have been hell."

you think you might cry.

"been missin' your fuckin' smile and your damn laugh. and your stupid hugs that make me almost topple over."

you hold back a giggle.

"i love you."

the world stills.

you don’t move.

you don’t speak.

hell, you're scared to breathe.

your heart is beating so loud you’re worried he might hear it. your face is burning, your lungs feel tight, and your throat’s a warzone of words you can’t quite say.

he said it.

he said it.

and now he’s quiet. breathing you in. arms wrapped around you like you’re something precious. like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

you pull back just enough to look at him. your hand comes up to brush his bangs from his eyes, and your fingers linger at his temple, trailing down his cheek like you’re memorizing him.

his expression is soft in a way you rarely get to see. wide-eyed. hopeful. a little scared.

you offer him a tiny, quiet smile.

no teasing.

no trying to be brave or play it all off.

just soft. honest. the kind that only he gets to see.

you lift your hand and touch his face. not dramatic, not shaky, just steady. fingers brushing along his cheekbone, thumb ghosting over the edge of his jaw like you’re memorizing the shape of him again.

his eyes close for a second and you swear you see him leaning into it a little.

you say nothing.

you don’t need to.

because you’re here. because he’s holding you. because you’re not pulling away, and he's pulling you in.

you nuzzle your face into his neck, like it's right where you belong, and you breathe in.

he breathes in too.

slow. like the world’s stopped spinning for a second just so you can exist like this, tangled up in each other without saying anything. no talking about what's going on, no complications, just.. being.

you both don't notice how mina and kirishima are gossiping wildly about how you two are practically married and wondering how you still claim not to be dating. you don't notice the way that ochaco squeals after glancing over at your position, and you don't notice the way izuku looks fondly at you two with soft eyes. (he's been shipping the two of you since childhood)

you and katsuki are the only two people in the world who matter.

"i love you," you whisper as you feel yourself dozing off.

you think you feel his lips press gently against your forehead.

"i love you too."

masterlist

[orbitganymede]

baby daddy simon who dated you for a year before you got pregnant, you’d gone through most of the pregnancy alone, him being deployed 3 weeks after you found out and gone until the very last month of it. the both of you had tried at keeping the relationship together, but the distance and loneliness got to you, you’d been fine when it was just you but now with baby, you can’t let the father go in and out of their life. he wasn’t very happy with the decision to end your relationship, in his mind you were together forever now, tied together by this beautiful thing you two created, he didn’t even want children before you told him you were expecting but his whole world view changed when he realized that he not only had you to protect but a baby as well.

but you’d moved out against his wishes, finding a small flat you like and making it home for you and baby. he would come over sometimes, when he could, and spend some time with baby but honestly he felt more like some glorified uncle, would be convinced he was nothing to this child until he saw those brown eyes staring back at him, the ones that are so completely his, and he comes to the conclusion that this isn’t gonna work.

he starts small, coming over once a week instead of every other weekend, takes the two of you out for dinner instead of letting you cook or ordering in. stays late enough that you offer him the spare bed in the guest room, even with the distance you’ve put between yourselves, you can’t help but care for him, knowing nobody else will.

then he puts more pressure on you, making sure you see just how valuable he is, taking night shift feedings and waking up early with baby when they’re fussy. he offers to take baby for the night so you can go out with your friends, do things you haven’t been able to since baby’s arrival, even pays for a spa day for you to really relax. he stocks your fridge, full of the snacks you love and a bottle of wine for the hard nights. he buys and sets up new decor in the house, finally gets you the pretty white vanity and a new washing machine that doesn’t squeak. he really just does what he considers ‘husband duties’, things that he should have been doing this whole time.

and when you don’t budge on the separation, he goes nuclear, “no, love, i haven’t seen your birth control pills”, “look how cute this baby is, remember when ours was that small, sweetheart”, “you’re so stressed darling, let me help you” which basically means you end up getting rawdogged within an inch of your life, condom long forgotten, one of simons hands held over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. he just hopes he’d tracked your cycle right, that you’re actually ovulating, because you can’t possible refuse his ring after having two of his babies right? you wouldn’t do that to him, would you pet?

[madaqueue]

18+ MDNI - f!reader (nasty freak boy who cums too early...i love him)

virgin!satoru who thinks he’s going to die. genuinely, he thinks his heart is about to explode out of his chest and his last memory will be the way you stare down at him with those lust-blown eyes and that awe-struck smile. why else would he be shaking like this, covered in a layer of sweat and lightheaded to the point his vision is swirling?

“are you ready, satoru?” is the only thing he can make out above the ringing in his ears - how can he tell you he only has a few moments to live when your legs are spread like this and he’s so hard it fucking hurts?

virgin!satoru who is the farthest fucking thing from ‘ready’ but he’d rather die than disappoint you, so he’s at least got to try.

with an unsteady hand he swipes the tip of his cock up and down your slit, watching the way the light sparkles with how wet you are, for him.

“you can put it in, baby,” and he fucking groans, he can barely look at you when you talk to him like that, all syrupy sweet and thick and dripping.

virgin!satoru who finally, finally, pushes himself past your entrance. his eyes are locked on the way you swallow his length, the way he’s so hot he can’t breathe, can’t get enough air in because it all smells like you.

virgin!satoru who cums before he even bottoms out. he’s trembling and whining and it only gets worse when your hands find his shoulders and pull him into you.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, fuck-”

“it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s so fucking warm, and he’s grateful he can’t see the smile on your face because he thinks it might actually make his heart stop.

virgin!satoru who straightens his back, slowly pulls his cock out of you and watches in awe as his cum leaks down your thighs, who can’t stop himself from smearing it through your folds with his thumb, who doesn’t miss the way your pussy clenches as he does.

virgin!satoru who’s already hard again, who no longer cares if he’s dying because this must be heaven, who stares back at you with wild, unfocused eyes as he says, “i think…i think i’m ready now.”

a/n: i think i blacked out from lust writing this

[summikomi]

"four arms and two faces, and this is what you're fascinated by?" sukuna said, watching with feigned disinterest as you poked at the mouth on his stomach.

"you've gotta admit it's really weird. and i'm fascinated by plenty of things about you, believe me. you have no idea how terrifying it was when you pulled out two dicks instead of one." you responded drily, a finger pulling at the crease of the lips, showing the pristine teeth inside.

"does it have a mind of its own or do you control it? is it a subconscious thing?" you asked before he could reply to your dry wit, genuinely curious.

"i don't know, why don't you stick your hand in there so we can find out?" he responded, showing the fangs of his top mouth in a growl.

"you're gonna try to eat my fingers again. does it lead to your normal stomach or is it a different thing? can you even eat with it? can you swallow?"

"i didn't know when you asked for my time i would be teaching an anatomy lesson. again, give it a try, let's see what happens."

"you should be studied in a lab, seriously."

before he could protest to the (frankly, offensive) statement, you shifted a little closer, and with one hand pressed to his navel, placed a gentle kiss on the lips on his tummy.

"what." he hissed, but you didn't offer an answer and instead moved up on your perch above him so you could cuddle up to his chest instead.

"you're so interesting, kuna."

"you are arguably stranger." his voice seemed strained, but you knew well that was just his own stilted reaction to being flustered.

with a contented sigh you snuggled closer to his rapidly beating heart, deciding to give him the mercy of not having to hide his blushing face.

[salsakiyoomi]

“do you think we're soulmates in every universe?” 

you ask, snuggling up to sukuna, on your king sized bed — you had been served dinner and sukuna bas gone through his reports and duties as king, and now it was his sacred time with you.

“we aren't in this one.” he scoffs, wrapping his arm around you.

you pout at him, mildly offended but you expected nothing less from the ‘heartless’ king of curses, “what makes you say so?”

“i don't believes in such foolish nonesense.” he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“it's not foolish nonesense.” you argue, tracing lines on his chest absentmindedly, admiring his sculpted form.

“and what makes you say that?” he asks, mocking your earlier question.

you smile at him, “i mean, do you not feel a connection between us? a binding of souls? i know you love me and i’m sure you know that we are meant to be in every universe.”

“don't put words in my mouth, woman.” he huffs, caressing your shoulder.

you laugh — you know that while he might have not said it before, he most definitely thinks and feels it.

and it's true, sukuna had first fallen for you for your otherworldly beauty, and had chosen you for marriage, and that was that for a while until he started falling for you.

you, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about something that you love, the way you always showered him with loving words and affection that was always so foreign to him.

but he slowly started getting used to it, even reciprocating it in his own way.

“whatever you say, ryo.” you finally say, smiling sheepishly at him before blowing out the candle and rolling on your side, “goodnight.”

“hm.” he huffs, wrapping all four arms around you before slowly drifting into sleep, his mind swarmed with thoughts about how your souls could possibly be tied.

foolish thoughts, for him maybe, but maybe it was also true

because, sometime, centuries later, in the middle of tokyo in a small business coffeeshop, sukuna meets you — the all time business ceo, falls for the loving and bubbly batista who always left him notes on his morning coffee.

and he falls for you all over again.

[ayyy-pee]

waking up freezing and shivering, teeth chattering every night because your husband is a blanket hog. you know it's not on purpose. he just can't help it. doesn't even know he does it most times. you'd think after years together you'd be used to it, but waking up curled into the fetal position as you try to retain even a smidge of warmth is something you don't think you'll ever adjust to.

so you reach behind you, feeling your spouses large form wrapped snug as a bug in your shared blanket and you grip onto the fabric. you pull as hard as you can but you don't manage to move him even an inch. you try once more...same result.

"ken..." you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself. no response. "kento..."

he doesn't budge. you're tempted to just get up and go grab another blanket, but your husband, despite his seriousness, can get quite pouty when you do that. so you tap him hard instead sure to jab him in the spot you know is his most sensitive. this seems to do the trick as he grunts in response.

"I'm cold," you tell nanami and he sits up quickly, realizing what he's done. his pajama top hangs off one shoulder. his blonde hair is pointing every which way and sleep is heavy on his eyelids, threatening to weigh him down again any minute.

"I'm sorry, love," nanami speaks, voice rough and deep with exhaustion, but the sincerity in his apology clear.

then he's throwing the blanket back over you both. only he adds in a little extra warmth as he wraps his arm around your waist and throws a large leg over your body.

nanami buries his face in your neck, adjusting himself so that he can be as close to you as possible. only a few seconds pass before you hear his light snoring behind you. and you know the warmth you feel is from more than just his touch.

[humanjarvis]

tantrum

synopsis: what makes sylus snap?

tags: fluff, sylus is tired and grumpy bc he misses you, he obliterates his phone with his evol, sunshine reader probably, cartoonish luke and kieran appearance (sorry boys) word count: 842

a/n: after that magnum opus line i really wanted to see sylus throw a tantrum and i kept mulling over what would actually make him do that because i can’t see him doing anything much worse than this. i think he’d find Actual grown man tantrums lame. anyway i don’t like this and will maybe delete? nvm but i had the writing urge so i sacrificed this concept from my wips. 

When you arrived at the base after your three-week business trip, your long-awaited homecoming was…tame, to say the least. You’d been expecting a teasing “How nice of you to join us, sweetie,” or a cocky yet vulnerable “I was beginning to think you’d run away.” But once you’d stepped through the front door, Sylus had barely said a word. A soft “Welcome home” and a kiss on the forehead, and before you knew it, you were cradled in his arms as he carried you to his office.

He’d sat you both down in his leather armchair, making you face him in a straddle. His tired eyes had searched yours, and a moment later, he’d buried his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“I missed you,” you’d murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss to his hair. With a quiet groan, he’d tightened his grip on your hips and nuzzled into you even deeper.

That’d been 15 minutes ago. Basking in the comfortable silence, you’d traded kisses all the while—yours on his hair, his on your neck. 

But suddenly, a low buzzing noise cuts your reunion short: his phone is ringing.

When he makes no effort to answer, still breathing heavily in your embrace, you twist in his arms and accept the call before he can protest. 

A familiar voice crackles over the line. “Boss?” Kieran asks. “Next meeting’s in 10. The one about those stolen shipments from Linkon—we’ve been waiting to hear back for months. You coming?”

Sylus doesn’t answer.

“…Boss?” Kieran repeats. “Boss, you there? You oka—”

Red and black mist shreds the phone into pieces. 

“Sylus!” you yelp, jumping in his lap. “What’d you do that for? He’ll probably be worried. And how will I text you now?”

You pout up at him, and as you study his chronically calm expression, you see something unusual: Sylus’s eye twitches. Just for a millisecond, only moving a millimeter, but you catch it.

“I’ll have a new one delivered tomorrow. As for the meeting, I’ll stay here,” he says lightly, a tight, closed-lip smile on his face.

“But Kieran said it was important,” you reply in confusion. “Why don’t you want to go? Are you feeling sick?” you frown, starting to lift off of him.

“No,” comes his too-quick reply. “It’s just…the twins can go in my stead,” he decides simply, moving to lean into you again.

But before he can move an inch, a rhythmic sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

“Come in!” you chirp happily, too excited to see the faces you’d missed the last few weeks to notice Sylus stiffening under you.

Immediately, the door swings open, revealing two masked figures. 

“Hi Luke, hi Kieran!” you beam, and they wave back at you eagerly.

“Long time no see,” Kieran begins. “Boss, did you lose signal or something? I tried calling you about the meeting, but I think it disconnected. Anyway, we’re about to head down and—”

“Cancel it,” a frustrated growl rings out.

You all freeze.

Somehow, you’d been too wrapped up in your excitement to feel Sylus's body shaking—no, quaking—beneath you.

“W-what? But they’re already here!” Luke sputters.

“Cancel. It.” Sylus grits out the words as if holding back a snarl, and the power in his voice leaves no room for argument. 

“O…kay,” the boys say in unison, and as they back away slowly, you shoot them a sympathetic look.

Red tendrils wrench the door shut behind them, and when you’re alone once more, it’s like the man under you deflates.

His head returns to the crevice of your neck with a soft but unceremonious thud, and his deep exhales and burning hot skin tell you he’s trying to calm himself down. 

Uncertain and a little amazed—you’d never seen him lose his composure—you give his cheek a gentle poke. “Sylus,” you whisper. Nothing. 

“Psst. Sylus,” you try again, and there’s some force behind your poke this time. With bated breath, you watch as your finger sinks into the space under his cheekbone, sighing in relief when the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 

Lifting his head up to make eye contact, you smile at him softly. “Hi.”

“…Hi,” he rumbles, and as his crimson gaze softens, the remaining annoyance dissolves from his face.

“Are you upset?” you prod gently. 

A brazen scoff precedes the dry chuckles that fall from his lips. “And what makes you say that, kitten?”

A squint and a slight tilt of your head is all it takes. 

“I haven’t had you to myself in a while,” he begins cautiously. “Three weeks is…a long time. The longest we’ve been apart. And then the moment I have you in my arms, well…” he trails off, gesturing to the shards of phone on the table. “I just want to enjoy you right now. Undisturbed.”

“Oh, I see,” you coo, cupping his face in your hands. “Is this your way of saying you missed me too?” you quirk a brow.

“Yes,” he responds through squished cheeks, honest and unabashed. “Now, won’t you stay with me like this for a little longer?”

[hellishvxbes]

                　. ˚　. ╳ ⊹ ― 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 with every kill Alastor made. In the beginning, it was easier. He killed someone, and it died for months. Occasionally, a year would go by without him needing to act on his impulses. But as the times grew worse, the depression growing, more && more chaos unleashing, he became much more ravenous than those starving for food. He maintained his position in radio. However, it was no secret that there was less need for a broadcaster besides the need for the unfortunate news of the country. Alastor felt the need to release his inner urges more && more. 

                        It was a raging BEAST he allowed himself to succumb to every time. It drove him; he had long since given up trying to fight it. So this was it, his choice. He knew exactly what would come of him, and he accepted his fate. He bid FAREWELL to sentiment, to all the things that could bring him down. Emotions, love, compassion. All weaknesses he could no longer possess if he were to become someone else, something else. Radio was his job, his passion. Murder ? This was who he was. 

                       The POWER he received as the one holding the knife's edge, the sheer excitement and exhilaration from pushing it deep into someone's flesh. If others could be addicted to booze && drugs, then he was addicted to the way the blood splattered across his face. The amount of endorphins he got from using his strength to jam the blade into someone's heart. Slitting someone's throat && watching them grasp and struggle for life. They say you could see the light fade from people when they died, but Alastor swears it only becomes swallowed up into that deep abyss. Sinking deeper like it was tied to an anchor, down into the depths, never to be seen again. 

                ❛ Now, where are you going? ❜ Alastor hums as he tosses his knife between his gloved hands like a baseball.  ❛ We're not done playing yet ❜ , his voice twists, lowering himself to the ground as his victim attempted to crawl away from him half-heartedly. It was amusing, so hilariously beautiful, watching them try so hard to fight at life. Like a worm crawling away from a bird, so inevitable of their fate as it moved closer to devour it without a second thought. Alastor's knife dug deep into the back of the man's knee, grinning devilishly as the man cried out in pure agony. Their cries always felt like a symphony, a choir filling his ears with such rich sound. Alastor's grip on the knife was deadly, digging down so hard he could swear it came out the other side.  ❛ You make things worse for yourself when you try to run. Well, haha, in this case, crawl. ❜ Alastor's grin glows under the poor lighting. He lazily flipped the man over, moving to straddle the man's lap, looking down on him as he admired the current cuts && stab wounds. He loved the way the blood slowly gushed out from the open wounds with every breath his victim took. Blood was such a lovely, vivid color. 

          ❛ Please. . .  Why are you doing this to me ? ❜ The man cried. Alastor's smile faded, feigning a confused expression as he pretended to list why he might be doing this.  ❛ Maybe I didn't have a great childhood. A horrible father figure, growing up poor, society looking down on me. Honestly, the list could be endless. . .  or. . .  maybe. . . ❜ Alastor leans in towards the man, a bloodied glove grasping harshly at the man's chin and yanking his gaze to his own.  ❛ I just enjoy the thrill of killing. ❜ Alastor's eyes widen, lifting his knife && bringing it down like a judge's gavel, casting his judgment on the soul beneath. He laughs each time his knife sinks into mangled flesh, the blood splaying on his skin like his body was a canvas && he was painting a beautifully macabre image. This was who he was, and he'd do it until his final breath. 

[nanamisgirly]

Body hair?? not stopping him from his meal! ྀི

CW oral (f. receiving), kento calls her 'greedy thing' & honey, he's eating wellll, hairy reader!, college au., once spitting, I had young nanami in mind with his pretty blonde bang, established relationship, pussy drunk!, a bit of plot ig either we're diving right in 😼

you're kissing

messily, hungrily—your lips part with a wet pop as you gasp for breath. kento's full weight is pressed against your body, his thigh slotted between your legs, his lower stomach grinding hard against your core. one of his hands cups your jaw roughly, angling you where he��wants it.

“i didn’t know we would go further…i didn’t shave and uh..im quite hairy. even my stomach” you mumble shyly. “i didn’t even shave my armpits. or down there.” your fingers threading through the long strands of his blonde bangs—trying to get his attention. 

you gently push them back, letting your hand slide into his hair until you’re gripping a handful at the nape of his neck—a deep groan escapes his throat at the tug.

doubt is creeping in you…

“i didn't know we were gonna go this far tonight…” you repeat. “i didn't shave. like, anywhere...”

kento pulls away from where he was attacking lovely your neck with wet kisses. his eyes met yours—heavy-lidded, pupils blown so wide they almost eclipse the warm brown of his irises. his brows furrow, not in judgment, but because he genuinely has no idea what you just said.

“honey, i quite literally have no idea what the problem is,” he says, and then drags his fat tongue sloooowly, obscenely, all the way from your collarbone to your jaw. as he feels his glasses slide down his nose, he adds : “actually, take my glasses off. . don't want them in the way while i’m tasting you.”

“but kento—”

“i said. remove. them.”

“it's probably not hygienic,” you whisper. “i mean—body hair and, like… going down on me?”

kento's lips curl slightly. “who said that?” he mutters,  then sinks his teeth a bit harshly into the crook of your neck. “society?” he continues, words muffled against your skin. “tell me this, do you wash your pussy properly?”

“y-yes—” you gasp.

“then where the heck is the problem?” his voice dips into something dark so sure of itself, it turns your whole body to liquid. one of his hands slip under your shirt and slides up, palm pressing against your stomach—and when he feels the soft trail of hair leading down…

“fuuuuck,” he breathes in the soft hair of your neck. “you smell like soap and lavender, your skin's clean and soft. i don't shave either, by the way. i'm not exactly hairless under this button-up.”

he presses down harder, strong abs pressing deliciously against your heated core.

“now stop worrying.” his teeth graze the skin above your waistband as he mouths hungrily at your stomach. 

he's already undoing your pants with one hand, the other braced beside your head like he needs leverage to keep himself from just tearing them apart. he doesn't even slide them down—he rips them past your hips in one desperate motion, underwear bunched and clinging wet to your center. 

there's a split second where he just stare—jaw slack, lips parted.

the soft dark hair above your slit glistens with the damp warmth beneath it, “fuck. fuck—fuck..” he spreads your legs wide—too wide that they ache instantly. he loses no time to bury his face between your legs, nose hitting your dripping folds and sniffing. he swipes his tongue devastatingly precisely, from your clit to your entrance and back again, groaning into the slick mess he's creating.

as your hips jerk up violently, he brings his hands to your hips and pin you down, keeping you in place. his tongue works in filthy little circles, mouthing and sucking enthusiastically your clit. when he pauses to speak, his voice is hoarse and soaked in spit. “this…this hair—” he pants, dragging his tongue right through where you have them the most. “don't you dare wax this pretty pussy. you taste divine, honey.”

he presses two fingers to your puffy hairy lips, spreads them open, and spits—watching it drip down between your folds. he dives back in, slurping so loudly it’s the only thing you can hear in the room.

kento can't help but grind onto the mattress—his hips rutting in rhythm with his tongue that trusts into your hole. The friction against his huge cock, trapped tight in his slacks, is maddening. he's not even trying to hold back the pleasure he’s having from this—choked and whining noises leaving his lips :(

“kento, please—” you sob, pleasure crackling up your spine.

“mm-mmmhh” he hums against you, tongue getting sloppier. to have better access, he lifts your hips, tilts them just right and devours you from underneath, tongue circling your clit only to drop and lap at your dripping hole again, wide flat strokes followed by desperate, suckling kisses. 

he moans loudly as his rough fingers part your folds once again, exposing that sensitive bundle slick and twitching for him. “greedy little thing,” he grins.

“ken—ken…i—t-too much,” you whines.

“too bad,” he growls, voice deeper than usual. he bites into your inner thigh, rough and claiming, then licks over the sting. “thought i'd care about some hair…?” he shakes his head in disapproval. “i want it messy. sooo messy, you have no idea.”

he’s glassy-eyed when he looks up at you—dazed. drunk on taste and scent.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ lose my mind if i don’t stay down here,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, tongue darting back out to drag one more slow, obscene stripe through you. “look at this. look at this mess. it’s all mine.”

“you're just so pretty, honey. i need more.”

  ˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵ 

[softaestluv]

Simon Riley who is just a little confused when he receives a drunk phone call from you one night, his sweet sergeant, hiccuping and giggling over your words— ‘Hi—Sir, could you come pick me up—up from the club? ‘m a little drunk.’

But he threw on his sweats anyways, was in his car without a second thought. Shoving random strangers out of the way as you clung to his bicep within minutes, trying his best not to push his arm deeper against your soft breasts and stomach.

When the two of you finally made it outside, he’s entirely too relieve to pry himself from your grasps, cool his burning skin in the fresh air. But when his focus finally drifts to your figure, scantily clad, irritation pulses his temples.

“Why the hell did’ya call me? You ain’t got any friends?”

You giggled, slurring over your words as you pushed to your tippy toes, leaning closer to his face, and crossing your hands behind your back.

“You’re my lieutenant, aren’t you? You’re supposed to take care of me.”

[urfriendlywriter]

specific tropes in romance that always heal something in me that it never broke

like, forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over the lover's face. promises that are kept, hands those are held with a gentle love, and hugs that engulf the heart too.

or when they rest their head on your chest, or lean on you for support.

"your tears kill me," kinda thing. or when a sunshine character finally cries and bawls their entire life's hurt out into their comfort grumpy character (plus point, if the grump feels guilty thinking if they had done something to trigger this emotional outburst)

communication. no matter hard the topic is, how big your differences are.

listening to the other person yap

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they really are.

them getting angry on ur behalf

cradling each other in hugs basically

feeling emotional walls break when you're with that one person particularly

gentle communication. yearning to do more for your lover (!!!!)

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

finding their laugh contagious.

the feeling of being accepted, despite flaws and all

silent domestic acts like being in the kitchen together, dressing up together, them drying ur hair while u sit between their legs

occasionally stolen kisses

or one deep kiss that just lights your world and fulfills your soul and heart.

sleepily nuzzling into each other!!

reaching for each other despite being asleep, with mumbled endearments and whispers of need!!!

laughter coming easily by their side, like happiness is just another day to day thing (this can also be about self love. when u truly love urself and prioritize your own rights and cherish the fact that you're you. happiness becomes beautiful even in solitude)

their fingers buried deep in yo- OOPS.?! :)

[kiplex]

You really do think Caleb was a dog in his past life.

Here you are, on your bed dying from the most excruciating period cramps you think you've ever had in your entire life and Caleb has his head on your uterus.

It's honestly your fault for saying the hot water bottle wasn't hot enough, and… probably yelling at him too in the process. He panicked, you could see the gears turn in his head before he made you lay down on the bed and then planted his head on your stomach. “There!” He said triumphantly, if he had a tail you're sure he'd be wagging it, he looks so stupidly proud of himself as he nuzzles into lower abdomen. “You always say ‘I'm so insufferably hot’ when we cuddle at night, so I'm your hot water bottle now.”

You sigh and Caleb's head rises and falls with your breath, you can't be mad at him, not when he's giving you those big puppy dog eyes. “If it gets uncomfortable, I'm banishing you to the couch." You mumble, relenting finally. Caleb's eyes light up and he nods into your stomach. "I'll be gentle, I promise.” Your hand runs through his hair as he places a kiss on your tummy letting out a boyish giggle. He's far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his phantom tail smacking against the bed from how happy he was to be helping, and being this close to you.

...

Yeah you're sure Caleb was a dog in a past life.

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