#vent drabble

[naptoons]

The girl:

Used to build you up when you’re down.

Because you know she’ll stick around.

Used to heal your wounds.

But you never tell her the truth

Used to help your rut

Because you know she would help you with no rebut

The girl:

To be desired but her body

Never addressed by how her personality is lively

To be sought out by her “beauty”

Be she’s too much when she’s “moody”

Placed by one’s facade

Then is ridiculed when she’s being quite “odd”

The girl:

To be intimate with

But for her to be the only one it would be a myth

To touch her so delicately

He has others behind her he’d like to do real slutty

Her body was discovered by him

But he’d rather the other gems

The girl:

That gets replaced

Because she’s never been first place

There was always someone ready to take her spot

Because she never was at the top.

Couldn’t even say she was a thought

Because they were selfish humans their own pride was all they sought

The girl:

Who was never loved properly

Seen as nothing but a mere probability

She was a mere toy in their game

They never really cared bout her name

Only I figment of their needs

Once they were done with her, she was only alone to weep

The girl:

Was hurt.

Broken down and left in a hearse.

All the men she once knew watched her bleed

In the end.. all they do is just leave.

They use her for their personal needs

Never stopped to think of what her heart really pleads.

[the-masked-ram]

CW: mental health, anger issues, vent piece, graphic gore metaphors

Sometimes, there is this writhing hatred within me. Something that isn't me, it can't be. That black beast baring its fangs and wanting to rip into throats, that can't be who I am. No matter how long it stays, whether it's a flash of a second or its a whole day, I just want to cut it away. I want to rip it from my body and set it on fire. A cancerous, parasitic creature lives within my skin, waiting for that time when my control slips so it can spit hateful vitriol and unsuspecting victims. It makes me into a monster. And that's the one thing I never want to be.

[shadowphoenixrider]

Oh, you shouldn't hurt the healer. For you see, the darkness covets her.

A woman with such a pure purpose - to heal the broken, the suffering, to fix the pain of others - ah, her light burns brightly, enough that you think it would scorch the shadows away.

But see, her kindness and tenderness extends to the darkness too. The darkness is such a lonely entity, doomed to be forever misunderstood. But in her hands, ah! It knows peace. It learns love.

And woe betide anyone who would take this from it.

Where she walks the darkness stalks, never far behind, watching always. It takes so many things, yet none are as treasured as her. It enfolds her in an embrace so gentle and tender you may mistake it for the soft sunbeams upon a pool of water.

You must never hurt her.

You will invoke a wrath unlike any other. You will be stalked by every shadow, every corner potentially holding a pair of burning eyes. You will know no peace until it finds you and exacts your penance from your flesh, no mercy left within its fangs.

There is nothing so dangerous as the object of the darkness's affections. Nothing so sacred. Wouldn't we want to protect those that burn the brightest in our lives? Even the darkness, by its very nature, craves the light to throw its shadows. Cradles it carefully, basks in its warmth.

And oh, how she loves it. It almost beggers believe how she can sit in its embrace, the darkness winding itself around her, threatening to swallow her whole. She feels safe as the coveted treasure of this mighty dark dragon, and who could blame her, having won such affection, such loyalty.

'Tis her kindness, it protects. A kindness it never recieved from any other, the kindness she gives freely. Perhaps then, the darkness has a sense of justice and fairness, so loathe is it to let such altruism be snuffed out by cruelty and hate.

Honour itself dictates you must not harm those who rush onto the battlefield only to treat the wounded and dying. Healers do no harm. Thus no harm should come to them. 'Tis justice. 'Tis fair.

Even the darkness knows this.

Do you think yourself exempt from even the darkness? You think your reason exceeds a rule so basic, even a creature of the night obeys it?

Then you will learn your folly. For there is no mercy from the shadows if you hurt the woman who taught it love, no place on this realm where you will find shelter, and not even forgiveness from the woman herself will stay its hand.

You will watch the darkness descend, enfold the bleeding woman in its embrace with a tenderness you will never know again.

And then you will see the eyes. Burning red like the fires of hell, like the demon it truly is, and then you will know terror and fear - know that the pain you inflicted is coming back to scorch the skin from your bones - a thousand-fold!

Then you will know nothing at all.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Neighbour (Dark) °

Yandere 's life was lonely, dark and meaningless. He worked everyday, earned good, had meaningless sex with girls whose name he didn't remember in the morning. He felt his life didn't have any purpose. Just breathing, existing.

But one day his eyes met yours and he knew you belong to him. You are the sole reason why he was put here on earth. To protect you, provide, cherish you. You are the universe. You are the beginning, ending, middle, everything.

He can't believe an beautiful, ethereal, kind angel like you exist.

He made his mind he has to have you, protect your angelic soul from all the evil in this world.

Suddenly out of nowhere your neighbour moved out and now yandere moved into your neighborhood where you live.

You invited him for dinner as a welcome in neighbourhood. Weeks pass by and you two became good friends. You both having meals, binge watching shows movies together at each others house.

Everytime he comes over he take something that belongs to you. Your panties, tshirt, hair band, hair clip, your broken nail anything. He has a room in his house full of your belongings. This man is madly obsessed with you.

Through his windows he would watch you day and night what you are doing.

He even bought a cat breed which you loved just because you would come in your free time to play with it. The more he sees you the better.

He would plant all your favourite flowers in his garden and whenever he came over brought them for you.

Is excellent in baking but pretends he doesn't know a single thing about it and wants to learn from you as you love baking.

Comes over to ask for sugar or salt anything just to see you even though he have it.

While stalking you through windows one night you brought a one night stand over at your house and next day his dead body is all over the news channel telling people how brutally he was tortured and killed. How dare someone touches what belongs to him???

You get scared and cry while watching the news while yan holds you and comforts you.

"What would I have done without you?" You mumble while crying in his arms not knowing he is the reason for all of it.

"Don't worry y/n I am here for you" yan says while burying your small body more closer to his chest and having a sinister smile thinking only if you knew.

After all his angel only belongs to him. You are the light of his life. You are everything.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[ihatedtoadmit]

Too much

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: self-hatred

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Loneliness is a silent killer, although when you notice its presence, you almost run into its blade willingly, had it not been for Chan to save you from yourself.

a/n: I know. Chan again. I apologise but he is my comfort place, in a sense.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

It was supposed to be a normal day, like any other, yet the weight in my chest only proved me wrong. It settled over me like a veil–, no, like chains, dragging me down to the bottom of the sea. Darkness enveloped me now, both in mind and in body, form hidden beneath the thick layer of my blanket. Even its fuzzy texture and soft fibres couldn’t comfort me, something I had thought impossible before.

Now, it was my reality.

I had woken up like usual, left alone in the shared apartment of my significant other. He worked hard, far harder than anyone I’d ever known, passionate about his job to a degree I could only ever hope to understand. My own work was remote, not needing me to leave the house much, if at all. Still, that had never stopped him from leaving me a message on my phone, always leading to us chatting until he got back home.

Until those messages had turned more and more sparse, comeback season having kept him understandably busy. It had always been a stressful season for him and the entire team, a fact I understood without a doubt.

Yet, on this particular day, a realisation had dawned on me: I relied on him too much.

For so long – practically between comeback seasons – we spent our days together, may that be through phone or not. And as he now worked away in his studio, far too busy to check my message, I’d realised how empty I felt. How my days were spent waiting for a notification, my heart caring too much about one person.

Talking with others didn’t feel the same, or at least those who understood me to a similar degree to him were just as busy, if somehow not more. I’d become isolated in this place, a prison of my own doing.

How I despised my heart for choosing who to trust the most, who to run to for attention when possible, like a touch-starved dog begging for headpats.

It was what had driven me beneath my blanket, curled up until my joints shifted and bones creaked, entirely too weakly body groaning in protest. I understood why it was screaming at me as it was I who had decided to lay there for hours, unmoving, on the verge of tears yet not quite letting them fall. Every single time my thoughts took a turn and over-analysed another interaction with someone, with him, my eyes turned glossy, imprisoning those crystalline droplets like my thoughts had imprisoned me.

I couldn’t believe how clingy I had become, how deeply it was embedded into my nature despite my endless tries to get rid of it, ever since I was a child. No human being could ever possibly give me this much of their attention, no matter how they said it was fine, as it was physically impossible.

I’d been hurt by those promises too much in the past to believe them again.

Yet, even now, I kept listening, breath stilling just so I could hear the soft buzzing of my phone: the telltale sign of a notification. None came, however, and I was left only feeling worse, like a leech that had somehow managed to deceive those around it. They hadn’t signed up for someone like me upon the beginning of our friendships; nobody would have expected to suddenly get a friend who needed attention practically all day and week.

My body shivered and I only curled up tighter, the day now gone with me having done nothing at all. No chores, no hobbies, nothing. I was lucky enough to have had today off work-wise, although perhaps it would have taken my mind off of this thing.

I wasn’t sure, although I would have had this realisation sooner or later anyway.

The lock turned and I froze, body straining to check my phone for a time. The sudden light blinded me and yet I powered through it, burning eyes confirming my suspicions: it was far too early for Chan to be home.

His steps had already halted somewhere in the living room, voice laced with worry as he called out to me. It was enough for me to know that I would be caught had I gone out to greet him, nowhere near a state stable enough to pretend I was fine. My glossy eyes only watered more from having checked my phone, sensitive to the bright light after being in the darkness for so long.

The door slowly creaked open and light poured in from behind me, yet I remained still, hoping he’d think I was asleep. It was strange enough I hadn’t greeted him back, tall form laden with comfy clothes and waddling out to greet him with an all-encompassing hug.

Now he only got a small lump under a blanket, still and unresponsive.

His voice was quiet as he called out to me again, gentle, as if speaking any louder would shatter me. The hand that now caressed my shoulder was equally gentle, if not more, careful to not put any pressure on me. Despite that I didn’t move, mindful of my breathing and keeping it steady.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Apparently I was much too late to pretend I was fine, easy to read like an open book.

“Are you having a bad day mentally, or physically?” – he tried again, that beautiful voice even more tender, just for my sake.

I shifted then, curling up even tighter, if possible, yet it wasn’t enough to break the connection we had. Chan’s hand remained firm on my shoulder, as if it was written in the fabric of reality to be so.

“How did you know?” – my voice was small, too small, yet he didn’t comment on it. “You only ever do this when something’s wrong. Besides, this is your comfort blanket, love. You use it when you want to feel cosy and whenever you’re in need of a hug. Don’t shut me out, please? We’ve talked about this. Let me hug you, let me take care of you.”

His words were met with silence, although my lower lip was trembling as the coil within my chest was wound too tight now. He didn’t see it, of course not, it was physically impossible. I’d positioned myself to not be seen, ashamed of myself and who I’d become, who I truly was.

The hold on my shoulder tightened ever so slightly, worry no doubt coursing through Chan’s veins at my lack of response. It was extremely rare for one of us to do this, to go completely silent; we’d laid down some rules in our relationship long ago, just so there wouldn’t be any hurt feelings over misunderstandings. But I couldn’t speak now.

Not when doing so would break the dam inside my heart, letting everything ugly I’d kept inside spill out and taint this wonderful person.

Chan didn’t speak again as he instead let his actions do all the talking, the bed dipping behind me as he laid down. I wasn’t engulfed and I wasn’t moved; he simply had that hand on my arm now, thumb going back and forth in a comforting motion I didn’t deserve. He didn’t know how it only made me feel worse, to receive comfort when I was the one supposed to be giving it.

To be so weak and dependent on someone who was already dealing with too many things, it disgusted me.

I disgusted myself.

I wasn’t sure how long we had remained like that, just him quietly laying behind me as I fought against my tears. Eventually I failed, the droplets spilling forth and leaving behind glistening trails on my skin. A soft sniffle escaped me without my consent, causing the hold on my arm to tighten, yet Chan never pressed for a response or explanation.

He knew it wouldn’t work, knew it would only cause me to shut myself off.

Instead the sheets rustled as I moved sluggishly, limbs aching and joints popping. I could already see the grimace on his face at the sounds, knowing not all were natural but due to the state of my withering body. No matter, it wasn’t important right now.

“Channie, be honest. Am I too much?”

I watched as his expression shifted, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He probably didn’t expect such a question without warning, although to me, its presence made complete sense. This gaping emptiness in my chest perhaps hadn’t formed today, but I finally noticed it and things couldn’t stay the same. Not anymore.

I couldn’t keep being this dependent on a few people, on him all alone.

“What? Where did you even get this idea? Of course you’re not. You’re my baby, my love, my everything. Did someone comment something like this again?” – his voice was rushed, firm, as if in a race to reassure me.

I shook my head, denying his claims.

“Then what happened? Where did you get that stupid idea from?”

My eyes momentarily closed as his hand slid up to my face, wiping a few tears away, only to have more in their wake. He didn’t stop though and instead lingered there, the missed warmth of his hand slowing the droplets’ descent.

“I just realised some things now that you’re busy. Nobody said anything to me.”

Those warm orbs twisted at my words, turning darker and pained. Both his hands held my face now and with so much affection I felt like I was robbing the man, feeling a twist in my stomach at just how worried he seemed now.

“And what did you realise?” – his voice was smaller this time, as if afraid to ask, to know.

A deep inhale expanded my chest forcefully, yet once again not enough to sever our bond. His hands remained firmly in place, thumbs catching my ever-falling tears, causing my chest to tighten impossibly more. The ends of my lips dipped the moment I could feel the dam cracking within my heart, within my soul, disgusting tar and sewage leaking out through the thin openings.

And he stood at its foot, arms open, ready to let it wash over him.

“How can you tolerate me? I yap and whine a lot, even when I know you’re busy and stressed. Even now, I should be the one comforting you and yet here I am, breaking down, again. This isn’t fair towards you, to have someone so demanding as me as your partner. Or as someone in your life in general. I’m clingy and can easily overthink things, needing constant reassurance that nobody has the fucking time or energy to give. Of course they don’t, it’s physically impossible, so why? Why do you look at me like this, as if seeing me in pain hurts you?” – my voice died near the end, cracking from the unbearable weight of my emotions.

Chan didn’t hesitate.

Steady arms pulled me close and buried me into his chest, as if he was openly offering the place for me to live. His heart beat strongly in its cage, and I didn’t doubt that he would have scooted it away just to give me space there. It was such a Chan thing to do, to give without needing anything back and it only drove that self-inflicted knife deeper into my own chest.

“That’s not true. Maybe you don’t believe me right now, but none of what you said is true.”

His hold on me only tightened as he muttered those words into my hair, holding me so tight it felt as if he thought I would disappear otherwise.

“First of all, you take care of me plenty, my love. You always check in on me, leave me something each day to enjoy. Sometimes it’s a small note with a doodle and a short, but sweet message on it, other times it’s some cookies I can take in and eat with the boys. Just the other night you held me like this, lulling me to sleep with your gentle touches and humming.”

A violent sob tore itself out of me at that, two sides of my mind warring against each other. One wanted to believe Chan’s words, that I had some worth and wasn’t just some greedy bastard, while the other was incapable of accepting such things. They fought against each other in a violent battle, rendering me a sobbing mess in someone’s arms who I didn’t even think I was deserving of.

Yet, Chan’s arms remained around me, as if saying ‘You do deserve it’.

“Secondly, you always do your best to respect my space out of your own volition. I’ve never had to ask for it, because whenever you know I’m at work or stressed, you keep to yourself a bit. Only when I replied or I’m obviously free do you bombard me with messages or cutely start rambling about a new hyperfixation of yours. And I love it when you do that. I love seeing you be so excited about something that you nearly burst at the seams, and even be more excited to tell me about it.” – his voice was tender, so sure in itself even in its wavering state.

I didn’t react, overwhelmed by the emotions wrecking my body from the inside, despicable and ugly.

Yet, he still loved me like this, and I couldn’t understand how.

“You’ve never been too much, love. It’s okay to feel lonely at times, to feel more comfortable with certain people than others. That’s why I and your closest friends are here, and I’m sure they’d say the same. We love you both when you’re quiet and more reserved, and when you can barely contain your excitement over wanting to share something.”

A hiccup escaped me at that, and I just knew I’d tainted his t-shirt, terribly so.

“But you’re busy and stressed, and also have to take care of the boys besides yourself. I don’t—I don’t want to add onto that by being clingy. I hate that I feel the need to do so.” “You wouldn’t, my love. Never. But to make you feel better, how about I’ll put my phone on don’t disturb when I’m busy, hm? Then you can message me whenever you want, and when I’m free, I’ll reply shortly. Would that make you feel better?”

I nodded into his shirt, although that solution was a mere bandage to an open wound. Blood kept gushing from it as the plaster could do nothing against its force, only time and self-reflection able to heal it, if anything.

My knuckles turned white from the force I held onto him, greedily basking in his warmth despite knowing I shouldn’t.

“Please don’t ever keep it in if you ever feel like this again. I’m always there for you, my love, always. And you should know by now, silly,” – his voice gained a certain lightness to it, desperately hoping to lift this heavy atmosphere in the room – “I love nothing more than taking care of the boys, taking care of you. It’s what drives me to be better, to always be there for you in case of anything.”

His lips pressed into the crown of my head, sending warmth gently crawling down my spine, easing the knots in my stomach and the tense state of my muscles.

“You give so much yet ask for nothing, deriving yourself of even your basic needs.” “Perhaps that’s why Seungminnie said you’re dating a version of yourself.”

A chuckle blossomed in Chan’s chest at that, brief but sincere all the same. I smiled at the sound, unable to keep it in when it was one of my favourites.

“Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?” “Always, my love. Always.”

[ds-angel1]

cw: self harm, scars, drinking and drugs, a mark??

a/n: I need to sleep so bad, but I highkey need this more

Rafe doesn't understand the concept of self-harm at all. He doesn't realize he engages in it in multiple ways (drinking, drugs, and sabotaging everything in his life) but he would never intentionally hurt himself physically (unless in a blind rage in form of punching a wall or throwing an object). He just can’t seem to wrap his head around why you do or did it.

But every time he comes home whiny and sobbing high instead of pumped or angry high, which happens more often than he'd like to admit, he kneels in front of you, pressing his splotchy, tearstained cheek against your scars, murmuring things you can never quite decipher.

When you're in bed next to each other, wrapped tightly in his strong arms, even the slightest movement toward the nightstand (where you hid it) makes his hand immediately wrap around your wrist, holding it in place. You fall asleep with his grip still locked around your arm and wake up with a red, hand-shaped mark left behind.

[teastainedprose]

Breaking Point (Homelander x reader)

Homelander delights in teasing you until he needles you too much on the wrong day. 1.5k words | Jerk Homelander to guilty Homelander, hurt/comfort if you squint. Homelander x gn!reader, implied chronic pain reader, implied plus-sized reader, [A03]

You are so soft. Your flesh gives under his grasp when he yanks you by the arm, careless with how it makes you stumble. Homelander laughs mockingly at the small, annoyed twitch of your lip as he tugs you close. Too close.

"Hey. Where are those new poll results, sweetheart?" The words are a purr, warm breath a caress against your cheek as he looms too close to be proper. Everything done with calculated intent to pull a reaction from you.

You stare blankly up at him, expression schooled neutral. You're used to this game. You've watched other employees crack and fracture under the pressure Homelander exerts. You refuse. You're made of sterner stuff, a master of hiding how you're honestly feeling.

He knows he gets to you, but you rarely let it show on the outside. You can school your face, but there's no controlling how he makes your heart hammer in your chest. How being so close to him sets your nerves alight in a pleasant sensation. Homelander leers down at you, pleased at how your pulse skitters under his scrutiny. He releases you, stepping back as the persona of a proper gentleman settles into place. Homelander smiles as he waits for your reply, the well-practiced one that the cameras always catch.

You're quick to give Homelander an indulgent smile back. An exchange of fake expressions as the two of you play nice. You look so placid and calm before him, but Homelander knows better. He can hear your heart jumping in your chest.

"I can pull them up for you right now if you want?" You reply, the words even and calm as you look up expectantly. You're too tired to deal with any bullshit. Homelander's included. You're always too tired.

In his eyes you're so amiable, so sweet. So disgusting. Your response isn't what he wants.  It's controlled and that's no fun. He's not satisfied with your performance. Homelander sneers, whirling away with a flutter of his cape. "Never mind."

You stand there, grimacing in his wake as you rub the spot where he grabbed you. You briefly let your honest emotions flicker freely on your face while his back is turned.. No eyes on you at this moment as sheer frustration and pain settles in. You take a breath as your mask of calm is set back into place. You go on with your day.

Why are you so soft? Under his hands and how you interact with others. Why do you always hand out such easy smiles so freely? He hates that about you. You carry that weary calm like a cloak, but you'll shake it off with a vibrant smile and a laugh if the right person engages you in conversation. They distract you from your fatigue and you light right up.

Homelander has yet to earn one of those sunshine smiles. He gets the fake ones. The ones that make him feel like a child clamoring for attention that you only indulge with your patience. He hates it. It makes him feel small. A god should never feel this way around such a weak mortal as yourself.

As any god does, he lets it bruise his fragile ego. The mortal must be punished and punish you he does. Every day Homelander tries to get a rise out of you. He tries to crack that cheerful facade you've welded in place. It must be fake. No animal has such a cheerful disposition naturally. There's no reason for it because you're so often a lethargic thing. He can smell the weariness on you, the stress, and even pain. How the fuck are you still smiling?

-and why the fuck do you never smile at him? 

Homelander decides, in his usual mature fashion, that if you won't smile? He'll bait out your anger instead. He wants, needs a reaction from you beyond those fake smiles.

He continues to goad you day in and day out. He'll slide right up next to you, too close, and lean down to ask directly into your ear for a report or some statistics on what his numbers are doing. Any old excuse to engage with you. He gleefully invades your personal space and is extra handsy because Homelander knows you hate it while he's aware of the effect it has on your body. 

If he grabs your shoulder and squeezes just so, your breath hitches. If he places a palm against the small of your back, your pulse races away without fail. If Homelander berates your fashion choices or comments on how tired you look, you flash that hollow smile while your eyes speak loathing at him. He wants that fire, craves it.

The tired fatigue that you always carry briefly pulls back to hint at a simmering something. One day he'll get you boiling over. In anger, in lust. It doesn't matter which one as long as it happens with him there to witness it.

Homelander finds himself brimming with anticipation for that day until it finally happens.

Everyone has a breaking point, even you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's too much, please just-

He's caught you trying to hide away in a conference room, the scent of adrenaline in the air as your heart races. A glance with his x-ray vision reveals you staring off with shaking fists clenched against your plush sides.

Finally!

Will you lash out?  Will you bite back? The thought sends a thrill through Homelander at seeing little Miss Sunshine finally rattled. There's a storm brewing on your face as your fingers tighten. It's an expression Homelander knows he's worn many a time. The sort of look that has interns scattering and Ashley stammering.

What a delight it'll be to see what you unleash. What can you possibly do, as small and soft as you are? Will it be like watching a kitten hiss and claw? Adorably pathetic.

He strides into the conference room with a smirk, the door clicking shut behind him. "There you are! You missed today's meeting, you know." He chides softly with a waggle of one finger as Homelander strides closer. You stare up at him, eyes blazing.

"Now what are we going to do about that?" Homelander goes on, voice as smooth as honey as he smirks down at you.

Something in your expression shifts. A crack in your mask appears.

Gotcha.

"Well?" He prompts, expectant. Giddiness trickles down his spine as Homelander grins wide, fangs on display. He can't wait to see how this rage of yours plays out.

Except you don't unleash anything on him. You don't even insult Homelander, which would give him reason to taunt you further or retaliate. It would give him a reason to finally lash out at you in earnest, but all you're doing is standing there.

Your expression crumples up like wet tissue. The tears are white hot and silently streaking down your face in an instant. The sound you make is beyond pathetic as you drop back into your seat, huddling into yourself. Homelander watches stock-still as you draw your legs up, arms coiling about your knees as you bury your face away from his gaze.

It's a truly pathetic sight, sobbing like the little mud person you are.

Homelander should feel triumphant. His grin twists to a grimace. He awkwardly shifts, gloves creaking as he balls his fingers into fists at his side.

Why isn't he pleased? He's watching you shatter and it doesn't wash him in the usual delight bringing misery to others does. Your sunshine is gone and it's raining on your parade, which is exactly what Homelander wanted.

Your crying should amuse Homelander. He's not amused. Instead, there's a sinking feeling within the pit of his stomach. A dead weight settles heavy inside as all his amusement flees at the sound of your whimpering sobs. It's a foreign sensation and Homelander doesn't like it one bit.

Homelander works his jaw as guilt chews away at his insides, stuck to the spot hovering over you. You continue to cry, quieter now with your back bowed and face hidden. He can smell the salt of your tears easily. 

Silently, he reaches back to pull up the length of his cape. This Homelander offers to you. He doesn't have a handkerchief like a proper gentleman, so this will have to do.

He knows he's broken something. Carelessly snapped it in two. Homelander has done it countless times before. The snap of a spine. Fizzle pop of a control deck. The crackle and sizzle of flesh. The wet sucking sound as organs spill on the floor. It's natural for a creature such as him. Things breaking is a fact of his life. He's never felt guilty about any of those times. Guilt is a rare emotion for Homelander but now it's clawing up his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Homelander blinks and refocuses his gaze as he feels a tug on his cape. He watches in a detached way as you dab at your face with the fabric, sniffling loudly. Homelander can't make himself apologize. He doesn't know how.

Instead, he asks in a surprisingly tentative voice. "Bad day?"

That takes you by surprise as your gaze snaps to him. You stare a beat up at Homelander and then you smile. It's a quavering sort, but it's an honest smile. The sunshine rushes back into your face as Homelander sucks a breath in. Were you always such a lovely little creature?

"Yeah," You say slowly. "Something like that."

[hyuneskkami]

⭔ . 𐔌 현진 .ᐟ ꒱ ─ criminal ✦

⭑ han jisung. ⓘ han comforting reader after her parents said something to her.

⌣ ﹒ ୨ৎ ﹕ bf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ f!reader ˙ . ꒷ masterlist ! ⭑ 📁 ⋮ angst .ᐟ

ꪆ୧ 𝒶n 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ okay whoa. this is probably the angstiest-angst fic i’ve written till date for the skz fandom and… yeah. it’s a little bit heavy. i js wanted to say: please take care of yourselves. no one is allowed to belittle you or make you feel bad about yourself. no one. not your friends, not social media, not even your own parents or siblings. if you’re going through anything, i’m always here and i love you <3

ꪆ୧ 𝓌arnings + tags 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ vent!fic , not proofread (when is it ever) , heavy angst to comfort , mentions of death , verbal abuse , hella emotional angst , poor parenting , toxic parents ; please don’t read further if you’re triggered by themes of suicide, verbal abuse or death [mental health is a serious topic, and my ask box & dms are always open to talk about anything, at all times <3] , lowkey self-indulgent and there’s more angst than han lmao sorry ;

ꪆ୧ 𝓌c 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ 1.2 k

“what are you even doing with your life? hm?” your father screamed at you. he stood up angrily and you flinched. 

“do you have any idea how much you stress me out, everyday?” your mother questioned.

“all we’re asking you to do is study. we keep telling you that you aren’t doing well enough, but you won’t listen either!”

“at this rate, maybe we should just push her off the roof or something. it’s the only way we’ll ever get any peace.”

your heart stopped for a moment. your breathing quickened slightly. tears threatened to flow down your face, but you managed to keep them at bay for a while longer. 

your chest ached with the pain of being unwanted by your own parents. 

was it really that easy to hate you? to want you… gone?

oh, the irony. the two people responsible for your creation were the ones who wanted your existence to cease. 

the next day, you spent rotting in your room. studying without breaks and writing essays till your hand cramped. you were trying to do anything to get your attention away from the previous day.

your mother asked you to aplogise to your father, for making him angry. you nodded, but didn’t apologise. you were the one who lost a piece of herself yesterday, not him. 

you didn’t see any of your friends because you had no school nor academy classes since it was a sunday. that only made the pain worse. 

on monday, you woke up confused.

did I imagine everything? was it your paranoia and overthinking?

but then you got your answer when your father walked past you, as if you were strangers. he put on his shoes and left to his workplace without a glance. 

without a care for his only daughter whose heart he broke. 

that evening, you went to your academy classes. you had no energy left to talk to your friends, or even smile at them. you just listened to minho and felix bicker about cats, seungmin plotting something with jeongin, and the rest of them studying or talking to each other. 

you entered, kept a straight face, and willed yourself not to think about your father’s words. you failed. 

‘maybe we should just push her off the roof or something. it’s the only way we’ll ever get any peace.’

han and hyunjin pestered you about an hour into classes. 

“what’s wrong with her?” hyunjin asked.

“y/n-ah! what happened?” han continued. 

“nothing,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face. it looked fake, felt fake. who cares though, right? “I laughed at your jokes just now, see? so, i’m fine!” you said, a little too cheerfully. bullshit logic, you could hear minho say in his mind. his gaze was piercing the side of your head.

they left you alone for a few minutes before han poked your side. “you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he whispered, while the others continued chatting away.

“I told you, ji. i’m fine. nothing’s wrong. look, i’m even smiling. isn’t that enough?” you exaggerated a smile at him and shook your head. 

“you think that’s believable? you’re a terrible actress,” he sighed. 

he kept trying to get you to talk to him, say anything, but the most he had gotten out of you were a few laughs here and there when he made stupid jokes.

as soon as classes ended, you made a beeline for the exit. 

han caught your wrist and pulled you back, letting the rest of the students file out first.

“will you let me go if I tell you what’s wrong?” you sighed, annoyance rising. 

“yes!” he nodded eagerly, and waited. 

a beat skipped. 

“my parents yelled at me.” you paused. “it’s happened before, it’s fine. it was about me not studying enough and stuff like that.” you half-lied. 

“oh, that’s normal. right? i’ve heard them so many times. the usual high school experience—”

you finally snapped.

“I doubt ‘the usual high school experience’ includes being told by your own father that you’re better off dead.” you said, finally, without missing a beat. you sucked in a breath, and smiled at him. “it’s not that deep, or whatever. i’m leaving now. and don’t worry, I won’t be doing anything stupid to myself, if you’re worried about that.” you walked away as quickly as possible.

han caught up with you soon. curse those long legs of his.

“y/n. please. listen to me,” he pleaded. 

you nodded reluctantly. 

“you know this is a crucial time in our lives. we have important exams this year, so of course our parents would be worried about how much we study, right?”

“trust me, I know that, of course I do, ji, but it’s very different when something you think about so many times is actually voiced out in words, especially if it’s said by your own parents.” you tried not to start crying.

“sometimes they’ll say something harsh, but in the end, they want the best for us, don’t they? they just wanted to tell you to study better, i’m sure they didn’t mean the other stuff.”

“oh, please. I doubt ‘wanting the best’ for someone doesn’t include admitting you don’t want them to even live.” you scoffed angrily.

were you being bitter and immature? yes. did you think you were allowed to be? also yes.

“look. no matter what, i’m always here for you. so, you can always talk to me,” he said, his gaze softening. 

“that’s probably the only reason i’m still alive, honestly,” you admitted softly, meeting his gaze. 

his eyes brimmed with a few tears that didn’t fall. he looked away quickly. 

his hands were holding yours now, and his thumb was rubbing against the back of your hands. 

“i’m sorry I shut you out today. I shouldn’t have done that,” you admitted. “I just—I just didn’t know what to do with myself.”

he hummed, signalling to me that he was still listening. 

“because,” you sniffled. “because, i’m going to be honest about what happened: he literally just said ‘maybe we should just push her off the roof or something. it’s the only way we’ll ever get any peace.’ word to fucking word.”

han’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I did not survive the night easily, hah.” you let out a pained, humourless chuckle. “I cried for so long while going to sleep and my mother came into my room once and said ‘don’t do anything to yourself’ as if the consequences of anything I would do to myself would weigh on her conscious. as if she was just scared about what repurcussions she would have to face if she wound up with a dead child, and no remorse for the child herself.”

by the time you finished, your heart was racing. you could barely breathe through your nose and you had to gasp through your mouth a little to take in enough air.

han pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“oh, my love. my beautiful y/n. i’m so sorry. you don’t deserve any of this.” he whispered into your hair. 

“you didn’t do anything wrong, hannie,” your voice broke a little. “don’t apologise for something that wasn’t yours to apologise for, in the first place.”

tears streamed down your face, wetting his shirt.

tears from his own eyes fell into your hair. 

your bodies moulded into one another. 

sobs racked through your body.

you took a painful breath.

“i’m sorry.”

hyuneskkami © 2025 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[irondad-defensesquad]

“You missed me?”

He expects Tony to mask it with his signature snark, but much to Peter’s surprise…

“The lab is not the same without you, kid. You practically lighten it up. And DUM-E wouldn’t stop asking me when you were coming over again,” his mentor replies. The robot makes a noise somewhere – DUM-E doesn’t deny the comment, either.

“… Oh.” That’s literally all Peter says.

Tony’s smile falters.

“Gee, I didn’t know you liked my company that much, haha,” the boy says nervously. Why would you? I’m annoying and I have no idea what I’m doing here or- or anywhere, he would’ve added.

“Kid…”

“N-Nevermind, Mr. Stark. I should… do my homework.”

“Peter.”

He stops right there, even though Tony doesn’t sound demanding.

“I know you don’t believe me – and don’t even beat yourself up for not believing me –, but I would never lie about it. You might think I’m being clingy or dramatic for saying this, but I do miss you when you’re not around.”

Peter hates that he can’t absorb those words. He knows his brain will forget them later. He knows he’ll think Tony secretly hates him or something.

“Augh, kid, don’t stand there looking at me like that. C’mere.”

Tony opens his arms. Peter, for a moment, doesn’t know what to do. He looks at DUM-E, who stares at him like a puppy. Only after that does the teenager approach and lets Tony hug him.

“I know how it’s like, Pete. I don’t blame you.”

Peter hugs back, admittedly tearing up. “I wish my brain was normal.” Tony pats his back, not saying anything, but empathizing with the feeling. And somehow, he’s saying, I still care about you, with that brain and all.

[nonranghaes]

"it's just me."

you barely get a chance to roll onto your back before soonyoung's already climbing onto the bed and somewhat on top of you and your blankets, and it's only seconds later that he crashes. it's far from the first time this has happened (soonyoung is clingy and cuddly, especially when he's sleepy), but he manages to knock the wind out of you nonetheless. he rests his head on your chest, and you wiggle an arm out to curl around him as best as you can in your semi-trapped position.

"soonyoung--"

"just go back to sleep," he murmurs. "everything's fine."

you stroke his hair, thumb dipping down to graze his cheek at one point. "soonie--"

"i mean it," he says, eyes peering up in the low light to see yours. "i'm fine. just need to nap." his hand finds yours, and he wraps your arm around him as he snuggles in. he plants a kiss against your chest before resting his head against it again, eyes fluttering shut. "you can rest a little longer, too."

you settle back down after a moment, arms wrapped around soonyoung as you shut your eyes again. sometimes you swear this tiger is a teddy bear, but regardless of which he is, he's yours.

[naptoons]

Friends go

The black reflection of her phone stared back at her. Knees to her chest. Chin on the top of her knee. Arms wrapped around her legs.

Where did all my friends go?

She asked. She wondered. She contemplated. She asked again. And again. And again.

Where were the friends that said: you can vent to me always.

“I’m here with you always.”

“I miss you”

“I love you”

“I love hanging out with you”

“I wanna hear from you”

“Please don’t ignore me”

But is it fair to ignore me? She thought. Is it fair treat her the way you don’t want her to treat you? She was always there. Always. So why aren’t they here now? Why are they a ghost in a shell. Why are they acting like it’s so easy to disregard her? Hurt. Anger. Confusion.

Why was it always her? What did she do to deserve hurt from people she genuinely loved why does she deserve the treatment from people that she genuinely cared for?.

Did the conversation she had with them not mean anything? did her talking about her feelings not mean anything either?

Covering her ears she cries and cries and cries. She can hear the strings in her heart just shredding thread by thread. the sounds of her cries piercing through her ears. Hurts her even more. Crying over people that wouldn’t care if she was crying. Crying over people who don’t even realize they’re ignoring her or care that they’re ignoring her. Crying and crying over people that she loved and still love.

Crying over someone she wants to talk to so badly to get comfort from them. But they don’t even care to talk to her.

She shouldn’t even feel this way… but she does.

“Where did all my friends go???” She whispered into her pillow as her head sank more into her chest and the pillows become a pool for her drowning thoughts. The loneliness of her covers sinking her deep into the mattress. The cries of her agony piercing through the covers that are supposed to protect her and give her the most comfort that she searches for in other people. If she were to go missing, would they ever notice? The worst scenarios start to appear in her head as she rewrites her position in peoples life. Her knees is curling up to her chest. She lets out a scream that is blood curdling

The sounds of pure pain and agony, vibrating off her walls as she repeatedly punches the mattress below her she was hurt. She was angry, and most importantly she was very disappointed. She was disappointed in herself. She was disappointed in the people around her. She was disappointed herself to get this low cause of multiple people.

She felt used she felt vulnerable, and most importantly, she felt stupid that she really thought just for once she really meant something to people, but to get the harsh reality to know that she meant the bare minimum to people.

[marshmallowichiart]

The Mad Fae King

There was once a fae king known throughout the realms for his brilliance and ingenuity. He could come up with plots others could only dream of. He was masterful and wise.

But he was also wicked. 

The king did what he had to in order to see his kingdom rise, but it was his own men who overthrew him. They ripped out his wings, scarred his perfect face, and left him to die. 

But he didn’t die. 

And where once a heart had been festered a deep hatred. If his own men would reject him, then he would reject the world. 

The mad king sealed himself away so that only the wretched and misguided would find him. He crafted a mask to hide his face behind, letting the tears fall where no one else would see.

[the-masked-ram]

Sometimes i can't tell if the darkness is depression, sadness, anxiety, or a mix of all the fucked upness. I am not sure it matters. On these days, i just know i am not okay. No matter how much i try to control it, no matter how much i try to distract myself, that pit is there. It's waiting to swallow me. No matter what i do, i can't escape its hunger. The tarry shadows want to suck me down, stick to me, and never let me go. It's a parasite. It is momentary, i know i will be better by tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or even the next week. But in this moment, with all this thick darkness blocking out any guiding light, i feel scared.

[obsessive-love-bpd]

[circinuus]

I want to love you in a way that consumes me.

my love is melancholic, nothing but condemnation and unworthy offerings of devotion. I want to love you, regardless would I survive you or tear myself down with my fingers clawing at my veins, waiting for your saving hands. I want to love you selflessly, but I am a penitent, I am guilty, and I take and I take and I take until there's nothing left. I will ruin you as how I'll ruin myself. I want to tear your chest open, crack your sternum and crawl into the cradle of your ribs, curl around your beating heart, flow through your veins and blanket your nerves. in your arms, I am a violent dog. in your arms, I am a docile lover. kiss me, and I would press my lips to your palm, trace every line, the ghost of your veins; carve my heart bit by bit with your name in my breath until I drown and drip with blood and molten gold, served on a platter for you to take.

[sh1gglypuff]

Why Do You Cry?

A short Kenma Kozume x Reader dedicated to every person with a strained relationship with their father for this Father’s Day

Caution, under cut: Depictions of strained relationship with father, depictions of guilt, depictions of trauma

˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚

“Happy Father’s Day to my best friend”

“Happy Father’s Day to the best dad in the world”

You held your phone tightly in your hand as you scrolled through your friends instagram stories. Why? Why did this day have to exist? You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream and cry and throw your phone across the room.

Kenma was out with his father today, having a lunch with just him. That made you feel even worse. You loved your boyfriend with everything in your heart, you were forever grateful that he had good relationships with both of his parents. You only wanted to see him be cared for. That didn’t stop you from being jealous.

You laid yourself further into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. You close your eyes and imagined getting a hug. A long and warm hug.

A tear slipped from the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to have had grown up with a dad. You have a father, but not a dad. You wished that you had had that father figure in your life that wiped your tears, that supported you, that didn’t want you to be different, that loved you unconditionally. You closed your eyes tightly.

You open your eyes as you hear the door begin to open.

“I’m home!” Kenma announces. He sees you lying on the couch. You pull the blanket up over your eyes quickly. He crouched next to you, his face inches from yours with the blanket acting as a barrier. “Did you call your dad?” he asks, moving to pull the blanket down to see your face. Your grip remains tight as you shake your head.

Kenma understands, of course he understands. He knows you don’t have a relationship with your dad. He knows this day is hard. “Hey…” he starts. He goes to pull the blanket down and you let him. Your eyes are filled with tears, casting a glass over your eyes as he stares. “Baby…”

You cry, you cry as Kenma pulls you into his chest and strokes your hair. You felt guilty. You felt guilty for not calling your dad. You felt guilty for not having a relationship with your dad when some people’s father’s weren’t even around. Your dad had been there. Not emotionally but he was there. Didn’t that count for something?

You cried as Kenma pulls you up to sit on the couch with you. “Shhh…” he says softly into your hair. “It’s okay baby…” he whispers.

“This is the worst holiday,” you mutter into Kenma’s neck. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair…”

Your hot tears hit Kenma’s skin and his heart aches. “It isn’t fair. You deserve love. You deserve love in the way you wish to receive it. Love without any conditions.” You cry…and cry…and cry. He holds you, whispers words of affirmation and love into your ear.

Kenma holds you until your crying subsides. Kenma was always so gentle with you. “It’s okay to cry…” he reassures you.

The teenager in you hurts. The teenager in you needed to be told this desperately. The child in you is smiling warmly. Everything is so different from when you were young. You eventually stop crying, holding Kenma close to you.

“Do you want me to make you dinner tonight?” Kenma asks you. You nod against his neck. “Just know, I love you unconditionally always. You don’t need to feel guilty for growing up. You don’t need to feel guilty for cutting off your dad. You don’t owe anyone anything. It’s okay. It truly is okay.”

You hold him closer before letting go. You nod towards him, looking into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”