#when i love something my instinct is to tear it to shreds

[steevejr]

very funny realizing now, age 28, that im a tragedy enjoyer and suddenly remembering myself, age 10, reading my silly little fantasy novels and thinking 'ok but what if they DIED and SUFFERED forEVER'. like oh ok i see. ive always been like this actually.

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Uh… I might do a part two to this? But it randomly came to me and I wanna try something different.

Warnings: Language, hurt, angst, unrequited/one sided feelings, sadness, anxiety, mentions panic, body issues, and mentions self-esteem problems.

You’re hunched over the counter, skin taunt over your knuckles, bones sharp enough to shred through. A hot, sticky wetness resides in your lungs, the pain of its steam burning in your throat, settling over your lungs. You cannot see through the haze of blurred vision, half-assed attempts to wipe copious amounts of moisture going nowhere. Only when a heavier set of footfalls fall outside of the door and it’s yanked open — you finally cease some panic. Your manager, in all his greasy glory, clings to the doorframe, looking into the storage closet to make sure that you’re alone.

Obviously, because who would go in here with me? Steve never fucking will. He’s probably had other girls in here…

Keith is speaking, sounding like his voice is somewhere above the surface of murky waters. But you make it out. “Hey, uh. I heard what happened with Harrington back there. Let me take you out, show you how a real man can treat a lady?”

If Keith wasn’t so disgusting towards the female population, you’d feel bad for him, but to sink yourself as low as to only get an offer from him? And right after HE saw you get rejected by your best-friend?

Nip it in the butt before it continues. You have to work here, after all…

“No, thanks, Keith. But I appreciate it.” You force a smile so fake that it burns the corners of your mouth.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Fine, but know that if Harrington side stepped you, you shouldn’t be so stingy with standards.” The comment stings, pricks your heart, tearing it apart to bleed out. “I’ll be in my office if you change your mind, sweets.”

One nasty wink later, and he’s back in his office and you’re out the door. This is all too much. You have to go. It’s break time, you thank fuck for, glancing at the clock, but you can barely think, your head pulsating with a pressing pound between your eyes. You punch out for lunch, gathering your purse, and you’re coming out as Robin is talking rapidly to Steve, seemingly scolding him at the front desk.

She’s come in for her shift. They stop immediately, features softening, too observant for your liking. You do what you do best — change the subject. Steve isn’t going to care anyways, so you might as well say it. It’ll help you get outside quicker.

“I have a fucking headache, I’m hungry, and Keith just hit on me, so I’m taking my break.” You blow out a wobbly breath.

It’s also Steve’s break, and he starts to remove his vest. Is he serious? You are so beyond outer limits right now… Granted, you take your breaks together every single day, but after everything that just happened in the past hour?

Steve’s jaw clenches and his body tenses at what you tell them, pausing his removal mid-way, inclining his head to look back in the manager’s office direction. Robin looks mad, tongue clicking as she looks over at Steve and shakes her head. You let them go, about halfway to the door before the bell rings and the beautiful girl that Steve’s been after forever to get a date with — approaches. She’s looking extra special, all dolled up. Sundress, heels, makeup, bracelets, a dainty necklace on her perfect shape.

It’s things you know Steve loves, because it’s also what you’re wearing. It made you feel good, but it was out of your element, yet you’d thought his hints, his behavior with you — Robin and Nancy had encouraged that those things were MAJOR signs. The girl goes straight for Steve, reaching for his massive hand. You’re frozen, having been waiting on him, despite all of your instincts telling you not to. Robin is looking at you with sympathy, something you’d rather never see directed your way again.

The girl, she’s acting as if it’s just her and Steve here. “I know you said this is your lunch hour. Looks I’m free if you still wanna hang out?” She swings her purse in her free hand. He’s been after her for a while — for sex or emotional connection, you aren’t sure. But what you do know, is that doesn’t want you at all.

And you can’t fault him, no one can. As his friends, you should worry about his happiness and dry yourself up, not making him feel guilty for not returning what you have felt for a while. That doesn’t mean that this isn’t pulverizing your heart, dusting your bones to ash, dashing all hopes and future fantasies, telling yourself he did like you, letting yourself believe — it does not hurt any less. It hurts more than you can bear. You feel his mossy eyes filter into your direction, meeting over her head, his nose wrinkling, that tick in his jaw that occurs when he wants so badly to speak, but can’t.

You’re caught in the moments that happened before any of this… Body on fire, doused in flames, tumbling down a cliff side of revelations. You weren’t even sure if reality existed, or if you were feeling too much of every emotion to comprehend anything.

“I really like you, Steve. And I think that, maybe, you like me too?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anyone, probably.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t… We’re really close, honey.”

“That’s a good thing though, obviously. Right?”

“It’s always gonna be a good thing, trust me. I’ve never had someone in my life like you before.”

“Sooo. What about tonight?”

“I’m so sorry. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I care about you, more than anyone, but I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Drowning in an ocean of pity and panic. You’re back to present, watching him see those moments through your eyes, which have now glossed over with tears. He’s trying to be respectful, not accept her in front of you, keep things okay, show he won’t make it weird because of your confession. Normal. Keeping his lunch date with you.

You don’t fake your smile, hand on the door, nodding several times. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, he doesn’t have to sacrifice his happiness. You love him, even if he isn’t in love with you. And that’s all that matters. He deserves this.

When Steve glances down towards the door and back up, the bell is fading against the glass, but you’re gone...

Your sundress blows in the wind of a fresh summer storm as you leave the store behind to walk to the deli, your tears cresting, before rising in a tempo that you don’t control. Your chest feels as if there’s a thousand pounds crushing you, every negative self-image colliding, thoughts flowing free, self-loathing — it all lets loose. And before you know it, you’re sobbing in the middle of the street over Steve Harrington…

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

[kedreeva]

on the topic of peafowl play, would/do peafowl enjoy those pet puzzle toys? would they have the patience or interest to complete 1 outside of food motivation? i don't know why but i always imagine peafowl as the brilliant but lazy types and i wonder if that headcanon of mine has any plausibility lol

I gave my peafowl one of those chicken treat puzzles (this one) which they are supposed to peck/scratch at and roll around, which drops scratch grain slowly on the ground and gives them something to do until it is empty. It's basically two yellow bowls bungee-corded together by a single cord on the inside, anchored at that little black nub. You fill one half, and then "seal" it as a ball- but it's not clipped together or anything, just bungee tension holds it together.

I set it down for Aris for the first time, and rolled it so she could see it had scratch in it that would fall out. She pecked it once, examined it for roughly 10 seconds, and then grabbed it by the little black nub, and shook the hell out of it, bursting it open and flinging scratch all over the pen. She dropped it and everyone went about their business eating the scratch.

I taught Eris how to press buttons to "speak" to me; she had a few treat buttons, a food button, a water button, and some Word word buttons like "want" and "Eris" and "yes" and "no." She used them to argue with me and make fun of me for forgetting to put water in her wet food one day.

I gave Bug toilet paper rolls with holes cut in them, stuffed with paper towels and superworms. She learned to pull the paper towel out almost immediately. She gets a bowl of fresh foods when she goes into her pen in the mornings, and it started with me walking in and coaxing or carrying her in. Now she goes and waits on the perch where I put the bowl. I give anything leftover she didn't eat to the barn crew, so when I go to collect her in the evening, Polaris and Opal are usually waiting on the table where I put the bowl.

I bring Artemis indoors to do paintings with her, and she knows the order is indoors->bath->dry off->painting+treats, so if I bring her in, and she gets a bath, and I wait too long in the drying off, she will start scolding me until we start painting.

If I let the birds out of their pens, they get free range time while I'm outside. When I call "hup hup!" loudly and repeatedly, they all start walking back to the coops. Many of them know up commands. Artemis and Bug have both learned to put their trains up if I ask (and that's a no-treat trick, they just do it). Beep knew "ask nicely" when she wanted something (which is what led to me training Eris with the buttons), so she would scrape her beak on me if she wanted something. Beep also played with a lot of different toys.

I guess the point is that they are pretty smart birds, given a chance and good circumstances. They can be incredibly stupid, too, but the majority of them are pretty smart most of the time. But they don't have a lot of patience for things that are not either immediately rewarding or that they choose to focus on. Beep once spent an hour trying to get the button off my jeans, but if you offer Bug a mouse and move it away before she can get it, she'll usually just stop caring. If you give a treat to one bird, they might snub it, but they'll kill a man for it if someone else gets it and acts like it's good.

So COULD they become interested in a pet puzzle and possibly solve one? Maybe? It really just depends on what's in it for them, and/or how interested someone else is, and/or if they think it's their idea. They don't really have a lot of grabbing strength in their beaks, so that factors in, too. They do NOT like to peck hard things.

They DO like to destroy stuff though. If you could make an edible tissue box, they would absolutely lose their shit about it. Every peafowl I've ever owned LOVES tearing tissues out of a tissue box and ripping tissues to shreds to try to eat. Don't know what that's about. Leftover raptor instincts to disembowel things, I guess.

[factorydefaultlu]

I have a slashers request for them reacting to coming home and sees their s/o waiting for them in bed wearing lingerie? (Thomas, Vincent and Albert Shaw)

Thomas Hewitt

When Tommy opened the door to he and his beloved's bedroom, he was surprised to see the room was dimly lit.

It was still early afternoon, a few hours before dinner. Perhaps his lover was feeling sick. Worry bubbled up inside him.

He closed the door behind him and began removing his mask. His lover must have heard him come in, the door to the bathroom creaked open.

"Close your eyes." they giggled as they spoke. Tommy was confused, but did as they asked. He made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, a small smile spread across his lips as he closed his eyes.

His heartbeat was heavy as he waited, for what, he didn't know. The bathroom door creaks again and he heard their feet pad across the floor.

He lightly jumps as they grip his shoulders, using him as leverage to climb onto his lap. Hands instinctively reach up to help them settle, the fabric of their shirt feels odd beneath his touch.

"Open them." they whisper to him once they've successfully straddled his thighs. Tommy's breath catches in his throat when his lashes flutter open.

His beloved was in a pink lace babydoll negligee. A wide smile on their perfect pink lips. He could feel his whole body heat up.

It took all his strength to not tear their outfit to shreds and fuck them into the mattress. No, he had to take his time and savor this.

Vincent Sinclair

When he had finally emerged from the cave he calls a workshop, it was well past midnight.

Vince expected his beloved to be in bed by that time, yet when he climbed the stairs he saw the light was on in their room.

He entered quietly, just in case they were sleeping. The door clicked shut behind him, and he turned to the bed.

The view that awaited him was nothing short of beautiful. They were lounged on their side, a novel in hand. The tight black lace of their lingerie hugged their body perfectly.

Their eyes flutter up to meet his and Vincent feels a pang of anxiety hit his chest. How long had they been waiting? He wished they would have hinted or something, he feels awful for working so late.

They just smile, and move to get up. Vincent rushes to them, keeping them sat at the edge of the bed. He shakes his head, and signs 'This for me?'

His beloved giggles and reaches for his hands. "Of course silly. Who else?" they bring his knuckles to their lips, kissing the calloused skin.

Vincent is sure he has found an angel to love. Although, the way he's about to defile them will be nothing short of sacrilegious.

Albert Shaw

The sun had nearly set, and Al had just gotten home from closing the store. He was surprised to find the house quiet.

A small drip of worry passed through his body as he walked through the dim living room.

Slowly he made his way to the bedroom, soft light glowed from under the door.

He quietly peered into the room, and a smirk played across his lips as he watched his beloved pull at the red lingerie that adorned their body.

They turned and modeled themselves in the mirror. Their eyes darted to Albert in the reflection of the glass, they nearly jumped out of their skin.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry, this was supposed to be a surprise." they pouted and turned to him. The smirk never faded, and he approached them.

His large hands gripped at their waist as he admired the lace on their skin. "Well hun, consider me surprised."

Albert twisted them, and turned them around as his hands roamed their body. He was inspecting every inch of them, and he liked what he saw.

"Wanna be my good girl tonight?"

[strawnarrries]

because im sad about the last show, here's a little imagine about y/n and harry reminiscing the past two years the night before the last show :(

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was still dark outside, a sign that it was not quite morning just yet. You're not sure why you woke up. It was like your body knew something was off because when you turned over, the bed was empty beside you.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze, you noticed light coming from under the closed door of the bedroom in the villa you and Harry are staying in. Getting up out of bed, you opened the door and the sudden change in lighting burned your eyes. After getting used to it, you walked towards the kitchen and spotted your husband, leaning up against the counter, sipping on something inside of a mug.

“Harry?” you hummed, walking up to him.

“Oh hey, did I wake you up? I’m sorry," he looked up at you with doe eyes and messy hair sticking up in every direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You popped your bottom lip out and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, his instinctively wrapping around yours after setting his mug on the counter, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just can't believe the last show's tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I know. You wanna talk about it?” you hummed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna miss it. A lot," he whispered, "but at the same time I'm excited for a long break."

"It's bittersweet."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"It's gonna be weird not getting to watch you on stage every night in your sparkly outfits."

He chuckled softly, "You don't get those outfits at home, do ya?"

"No, I get you either naked or in the one stupid shirt that you refuse to throw away even though it's practically in shreds."

"Thought you loved that shirt?" he teased.

You glared up at him before changing the subject, "What'dya think you'll miss the most? Just being on stage?"

"Yeah. Performing. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. I just get such a rush from being out there and interacting with the fans and hearing them scream my lyrics."

"And hearing them bark at you," you added.

He giggled, "Yes, that too."

"You'll be back though. It's not the end."

“You're right. I feel like this tour was just special for some reason, I dunno. I fear I’m gonna get really emotional tomorrow on stage though. I was holding back tears at the show the other night," he chuckled.

“It’s okay to get emotional. You know me and your mom will be sobbing the entire night."

He smiled softly as he cupped your jaw and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheek, "I've been reflecting a lot recently. So much has happened in the last two years. It's wild."

“You've done, like what, 150 shows?”

“169 tomorrow."

“Holy shit, Harry. Most of them were completely sold out too. Do you realize how incredible that is?”

“It's mad. I think this has been the most successful tour I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh, by far.”

“Gonna miss seeing everyone every day. Gonna miss the fans and being up on stage. I've had some of the best shows of my life on this tour.”

“Harryween,” you giggled fondly at the memory that popped into your head.

“That was fun as fuck,” he giggled back.

“You’ve done more than just tour though. So many award shows, Coachella, music videos, you starred in two different movies, Harry.”

“I have,” he nodded, smiling proudly at himself, "Looking back, the amount of love and support that I've gotten from everyone, the fans, my team, my friends, and family, and from you is just - it's - it's so overwhelming like I can't even explain it to you. Like my mind can't comprehend that this is my life. Been 13 years and I still can't believe it."

"'cause you deserve it, baby. With the amount of love you give out and just the type of person you are in general, you deserve everything that's come your way. Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?" you teased, being the fact that those words leave your lips multiple times after every single one of his accomplishments.

"Never. Not once," he chuckled.

“Well, I am,” you hummed pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum, just under where his cross necklace lay, "It makes me feel so prideful that I get to call you my husband."

“Thank you, my love. You know I wouldn't be here without you.”

You rested your head on his warm chest, hugging him tighter, embracing the sweet silence before breaking it, "Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded as you looked back up at him.

“I know it's selfish but a big part of me is excited that it’s over because then I get you all to myself and don’t have to share you with the world.”

“Finally don’t have to hear you nagging for my attention all the time,” he chuckled.

“Heyyyyyy,” you whined.

“I’m joking, baby.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly.

“We have a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what you were referencing to, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You becoming a daddy.”

“Really lookin forward to that. I can’t wait ‘till you have a cute little baby bump.”

“Gotta get me pregnant first.”

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that. We’re gonna be goin' at it all day every day when we’re on holiday next month,” he smirked.

“I can't even explain to you how excited I am for that. Vacation Harry is my favorite Harry."

He grinned, “I love you, Y/N."

“I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses before you hummed sleepily, “Will you come back to bed with me now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

[anilovie]

could I please have some anakin fluff when the reader is on her period and every inch of her body are sore and the period pain is so painful? despite how he intense he could get during sex and all, I wanna see the gentle and loving side of anakin from you hihi, thank youu

hii thanks for the request!! i wrote a little something that’s been bouncing around in my head for a while, but if you want some more general thoughts on this just let me know!!

CW: whump + fluff, mentions of menstruation/blood/pain but nothing too graphic, f-implied reader

WC: 1.3k

You would try your best today — that’s all you could promise yourself when you woke up to the dreaded stomach pains, sore muscles, and the dark red spot blooming on your bedsheets; all signs pointing to a very unfortunate time of month.

It was a shitty way to start the morning, ripping your bedsheets off and throwing them in the wash and trying not to beat yourself up for making a mess, waddling around your room due to the sticky mess between your thighs. You hadn’t anticipated starting today— you were a few days early, which was just perfect, because of course you’d be on the heaviest day of your period when you had so much to do.

No matter how bad you wanted to stay in bed all day, you had to get your clothes on and join the rest of the hustle and bustle in the temple halls. The war didn’t stop for your period, after all.

Considering you were in a shit mood, you tried to avoid everyone and stuck to working alone. Anakin was also busy, which you were glad for. He didn’t need to see you like this.

But he, without fail, always made it a point to free up time in his busy days to see you. Somehow. Even if it meant swiping you from your own work to walk with him to the caf for a quick coffee run.

And of course. Of course of course of course. Right before he dropped you back off to let you go back to work, he leaned in real close and said:

“You okay? Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes subtly shifted downward, and then back up, and you full-heartedly wished the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m good, Anakin, thanks,” you rushed. He was never embarrassed to talk about it, but for some reason you were.

How could he even tell??

“Okay,” he knew not to push, even though you were clearly lying. “Just come find me if you need anything, alright? I’ll see you tonight.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and pulled back with a small smile.

Just as soon as he turned to leave, a cleaning bot turned a corner too fast, one of its long metal arms flailing out too fast for you to anticipate. It slammed you in the lower stomach, right where it hurt the most.

“Shit—“ you gasped, arms instinctively wrapping around your middle, keeling over in pain. The droid was long gone by now, not having the capacity to understand what it did and scurrying back to duty.

Anakin swore a little too loud, turning right back around. He’d caught what happened out of the corner of his eye, forgetting about potential onlookers as he held you up with his arms, urging you back into an empty room and sitting you down in the nearest chair.

“Where’d it get you? Right there?” He was kneeling before you, brows creased in worry, subconsciously rubbing your arms up and down as his gaze pierced into the death grip you had around your middle.

Your eyes welled with pained tears, lip quivering as you struggled to keep your cool. “I’m okay,” you squeaked. “It was an accident.” But God, did it feel like your insides were being shredded up right now.

The cramps you’d been dulling with regular doses of painkillers came back full-force, twisting and pinching and radiating all through your lower abdomen, back, thighs— god, it hurt everywhere, and you really didn’t need this today.

That thought had a pathetic little whimper escape from your throat, and you would have been able to see Anakin’s heart break if you weren’t still hunched over, trying to diffuse any of the pain at all. Anakin’s hand roamed from your arm to your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades, giving you a minute.

“I’ll have to find that droid later,” he sighed under his breath, sinister. “But first, we should get you into bed. I don’t want you working any more today.”

The fact that you actually nodded in agreement was a very bad sign. Anakin wished he’d grabbed that stupid droid as soon as it passed you and broke its damn neck. Some sensors were clearly missing, anyways.

He wished he could carry you, but it was the middle of the day and too many people were walking around the temple. “Can you walk?” He asked tenderly, ducking his head to try and catch your eyes.

“Yeah,” you grit between your teeth, wincing as you straightened up and pushed yourself to your feet with a great big breath. It ached, the worst you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t walk without leaning forward, pressing a hand to your tummy as if it would help at all. Anakin took your other hand and led you out of the room, through the halls, and to your room.

His com started beeping as soon as he closed the door, answering it with an exasperated, “Not right now, Ahsoka. I’m busy.”

You’d have scolded him for snapping at his Padawan, but you were too focused on beelining to your bed, needing to sit again.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. Your sheets were still in the dryer from this morning. “I forgot to make my bed,” you explained to Anakin once he caught up from the other room.

“Let me draw you a bath. I can make it in the meantime,” there was no room for argument as he slipped past you to the bathroom. “Come. Sit,” he held out a hand, almost stern, and once you took it, he nudged you to sit on the lip of the bath as he leaned in to twist the knobs.

He was mother-henning.

One of his hands remained on your knee as he fiddled with the knobs until he got the right temperature, testing it with his own hand before deeming it acceptable.

“Hands up,” he demanded, turning to you after shaking the water droplets from his fingers.

“Anakin, I can undress myself…” you cringed. Really, you didn’t want him to see how bloated and gross you probably looked. It’s how you felt at least. Even if you logically knew it wouldn’t even phase him, you’d rather take care of this business yourself.

“Alright,” he surprised you, giving in with little argument. “Can I just see, though? I want to make sure it didn’t bruise you.”

“I don’t think it did,” you said softly. “Just hurt really bad cause, yaknow… but you can see after.”

“Okay,” he stood, kissing you on the head on the way up. He grabbed a towel from the hanger behind the door and folded it on the sink for you to grab easily. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Aren’t you busy, though? You don’t have to stay with me.”

“I’m not busy,” he lied, and you gave him a pointed look. “None of it’s very important, at least.”

You were too tired to argue, plus you did really want him to stay with you. So you just nodded and whispered, “thank you,” as he closed the door.

With him gone, you finally allowed your face to twist into the pained grimace you’d been holding back, not wanting him to see how bad it truly hurt— was still hurting. Whatever that droid did, it must have knocked something loose, because it never usually hurt this bad.

With some deep, measured breaths, and lots of quiet swearing, you got undressed and cleaned up a little before getting into the bath, sighing in relief as your sore muscles relaxed in the hot water. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, chest warming at the muffled sounds of Anakin walking around your room, making your bed and talking to someone on his com: something along the lines of, “Leave me alone, I’ll do it tomorrow. Yes, I’ve already given the report, have some faith in me, why don’t you? No, it wasn’t last minute— by the way, there’s a CC-4 walking around missing some sensors—“

You didn’t stay in the bath for long, not wanting to keep Anakin waiting. Plus, it was making you sleepy and you wanted to get into bed so you could sleep away your woes.

Cringing with every movement, you lifted yourself from the bath and rushed to get everything cleaned and covered before you made a mess on the floor. You pulled your robe on from its hangar and exited the bathroom in considerably much less pain, pleased to see Anakin finishing tucking the sheets into the mattress, having laid out some snacks and a big glass of water on your desk. As you grew closer, you also found a little napkin with some pain pills on it.

“You should take those,” he instructed over his shoulder, and you smiled softly, picking them up and swallowing them with water.

“Thanks for all this, Ani,” you said, crawling onto the newly made bed. “Are you really gonna stay?”

“Of course,” he pulled the blanket right up over you before you could even reach for it. “Obi-Wan’s covering for me. I’m all yours tonight.”

“You should buy him a cupcake or something, it’s very nice of him to do that,” you muttered, already reaching for his belt and tugging on it loosely . “Can you get in bed with me?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, unclasping his belt and laying it carefully on your desk. He kicked his boots off and slid in right beside you, and you instantly sighed, melting into his warm chest, arms circling around you like it was second nature. He let you shift around until you were comfortable, leg slotted between his, draped half-on and half-off his chest, head tucked right below his chin.

Another achey cramp washed over you, urging you to take his flesh hand and direct it over your lower abdomen, right where it hurt the most; which was also where you got hit.

“You said you’d show me,” he reminded gently.

Your response was muffled by the material of his robes. “It’s not bruised. I’ll show you later.”

You couldn’t see, but he smiled at your slightly slurred voice, your smaller hands gripping his large one to keep it over your tummy. He loved knowing that just his touch could give you so much relief. “So sleepy,” he teased, lips skimming over your forehead.

He breathed you in deeply for a long moment, rubbing your tummy in gentle motions. It ached at first, but soon the motions and the warmth of his hand eased away the pains, massaging you with just the right pressure to make it feel much, much better. You sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” he whispered, though you were already half asleep.

“‘Ts okay. It’s unavoidable.”

“I’m still sorry. I wish you didn’t have to be in so much pain all the time. I wish I could take it away from you.”

You almost laughed at what you could say in response to that, but he was being serious, so you were too. “You’re making me feel better now, Ani.”

He sighed, squeezing your waist with his metal arm. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you kissed his collarbone.

He huffed a gentle laugh, and you relaxed further into him, putty in his arms. Anakin just had a way of making you feel so warm and so safe, your brain just goes quiet whenever you’re around him.

He slowed his hand on your belly, easing the pressure just a bit so you could tumble into unconsciousness. Somewhere between watching you sleep, roaming his hands over each of your aching muscles, front to back, and fiddling with the ends of your hair, he followed you into unconsciousness.

[mvltisstuff]

Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.

lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙

love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹

are you with me - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality

it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.

over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.

she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.

all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.

buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.

most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.

she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.

“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.

“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.

“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”

“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.

“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”

despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.

“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.

“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.

“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.

y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.

y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.

“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”

“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”

“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“

“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”

“promise?”

“i promise.”

the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.

weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.

y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.

buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.

at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.

“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?”

her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”

“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.

“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”

her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”

y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.

y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.

[eris-snow]

7. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, crying

A life behind the curtain is heaven for some, but for others, it’s utter hell. 

L/n!” Katsuki hollers, ripping the curtain open. “We need to talk—oh.”

Katsuki knows what he sees. He doesn’t like it.

You’re wearing that big hoodie and you’re hiding your face, shivering in a corner with a pack of tissues next to you.

You’re sniffling and shaking like an earthquake hit, and his thoughts immediately go blank.

Uh-oh.

Katsuki has been through a war, died and came back. His heart stopped beating for the love of nachos, and he still can’t handle it when he sees someone cry.

What’s worse is that your breaths are quickening and you’re tearing your hands through your hair as your eyes are shut so tightly he’s afraid they might never open up again.

A tiny sob wrecks your entire body before Katsuki says fuck it and kicks his instincts to gear.

“L/n?” He kneels down, forcing himself to smoothen his tone of its rough edges.

No go. You’re still quivering as frantically as before and he thinks it’s getting worse.

“Y/n, hey—” He reaches out experimentally, but you don’t even flinch at his touch. Nothing he does helps, hell, he’s the worst person to deal with this kind of—

Sunshine.

His mind spat out.

Almost instinctively, his mouth followed suit. “Sunshine.”

To his utter surprise, your head snaps up for him to see your face riddled with tears and snot. Your face says one word: Help.

“Katsuki?” you croke, eyes desperate and breath caught.

He nods, right in front of you. “I’m here.”

Your breath doesn’t slow, but your eyes are on him and he needs to do something. He lets go of the decade-old foolscap and focuses his gaze on you.

“Breathe with me,” he says softly, “I need you to stay with me.”

He works you through the exercise for god knows how long, rubbing circles on your hands and breathing, but it’s finally worth it when your breaths coincide and you look lucid again. It’s especially rewarding when you stop quaking like you’re in a frenzy.

He eases himself on the floor, letting your hands go.

“Better?”

Your nod is shameful, and you can’t bear to look him straight in the eye. You look so embarrassed, hiding your face away and shaking your head like you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“This is—you shouldn’t have seen this,” you finally mutter. “Forget this happened, please—”

“No.” Katsuki’s voice is firm, and it holds such authority that it makes you flinch. “I’m done pretending that whatever the fuck going on is normal. Shit’s been weird, and we’re finally going to talk about it. No diversions, no more secrets.” He grabs the foolscap paper at his side and tosses it to you, eyeing your reaction. “I found this in the library. Seen it before?”

Your silence speaks louder than any words could.

“Thought so. I’ve had a real, shitty week with no fuckin’ sleep and too much coffee to be healthy.” He grits out, hands steaming. He’s fed up, and he has every reason to be after being strung along like an idiot. You’re so frustrating that it’s driving him insane.

“I don’t have a damn clue as to what is going on, but I’m smart enough to know that I’m involved in it. So for the sake of my sanity, tell me what is going on.”

You don’t say anything for a good second. And then, you take a tissue out of the packet beside you, blow your nose, and crumple it up in your hand. You look at him, and you look wrecked. Eyes frost cold, the usual warmth stripped and shredded like a glass shattering on concrete.

“You’ve had a shitty week?” You repeat, voice sharp, enunciating each syllable like the words are foreign to you. It’s such a stark difference from the you that would listen to him earnestly, or reply to his banters ever so snarkily.

“I’m sorry you’ve had a shitty week, Bakugou, and I’m sorry that you’re scarred emotionally because of the war, your kidnapping, and being literally revived on the battlefield. But news flash, everyone probably had a shitty week too! And you don’t see them complaining about it, do you?”

“You wanna know what’s happening? Fine! Where should I start? What about when I found this stupid report, hm? Or that time you told Izuku to take a swan dive off the roof? Oh! How about the day you forgot about me.” You’re practically snarling now, and, oh look, you’re crying again.

“We attended the same piano lessons; best in our academy's and whatever. We skipped stones and traded likes as I listened to you rant obsessively about heroes like a sick puppy dog. You called me Sunshine, you called me your equal. Your ideas, your dreams, your friends, you shared everything with lil’ old me even as we quit music. Where’d you think I know All Might’s successor from?”

“Izuku’s been high profile for a long while now—”

“You told him to suicide because he was Quirkless.” You spit. “I was in that classroom when that happened, the same classroom you told me to get lost in because you didn’t remember me.” You laugh. It’s a bitter, dark, humourless one. “I was so confused. Everyone kept ignoring me and so were you. I kept calling out to you in class and you got so fed up with me, you snapped.”

—

Past (3 years ago): Middle school 2nd year,

“Katsuki.”

The ash blond stopped and looked back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”

You looked at him in disbelief, face crumbling as fear, hurt and disbelief seeped into your heart.

“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”

No. No way. Not you too.

He laughed, low and raspy and god damn mocking that it makes your blood boil. “Who do you think you are, hah? I’ve never seen you in my life. Now get lost—”

“Sunshine, remember? Nuvole Bianche our duet?” You pointed to yourself, getting desperate now. If Katsuki didn’t know you, who would?

“You’re a freak,” He spat, shouldering his bag. “Stay the fuck away from me, creep. Talk to me again, and see what’ll happen.”

You stood there in utter shock, watching as he stalked off with his lackeys who flanked him left, right and back, and in a wave of utter panic you called out to him, just one more time.

But your voice was stolen by the wind, and you didn’t even get a glance as he left you alone in the classroom.

—

Present:

“I couldn’t have known you!” Katsuki’s voice cuts deep, and boy, it stings. ”There’s too many missing holes, someone would have noticed!”

Lashing out is the worst thing you could have done with Katsuki. When you yell, he yells back, and everything escalates until harsh words that can’t be taken back spew from both your lips. You’ve always been good at taking, but it’s a pity that Katsuki finds a way to tear down your mask one way or the other.

You give him a glum smile, the fire in you finally fading as you settle back into your corner.

“If everybody forgets, nobody remembers.”

And because of that, Katsuki’s heart tugs.

Katsuki doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know a thing about your family, have a clue about your past or even how this happened.

So why did he call you Sunshine? Why did he come back and visit you every goddamn day when he has internships, school work, training and so much in between?

Why does he feel like even though he knows nothing about you…

He’s drawn like a moth to a flame to this place just so he can see you again?

You seem to blend a little more into your surroundings as you murmur, no longer shouting but instead coming back to grudging acceptance. “Who am I kidding? You read that catalogue. I’m finished, whether you believe me or not.” You slump down, head tucked in between your knees. “I tried everything.”

“You clearly didn’t.”

You glance up to glare at the blond, opening your mouth to snap back when you catch his eyes.

You’ve forgotten that feeling. That feeling of being really seen, of being heard. That look that you’ve long for the past 3 years…is now the look that is being given by one of the most explosive people on the planet.

Something stirs in your chest but you fight it down. Now isn’t the time for past regrets. Now isn’t the time for feelings.

“You have me now, don’t you?” Katsuki refutes, raising an eyebrow as he swipes the log out of your hands. “For someone who supposedly knew me my entire life, you have balls to underestimate me like that.”

He waves the foolscap in front of your face, a familiar, cocky smirk coiling on his face. “We have alumni, teachers, and I have insane fuckin’ connections. This was written by Invisible Shit and his knight in shining armour? Great.”

“Let’s go find them.”

[synnamonroll666]

Make It Rain

Prompt 4: Showering Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: All you want to do when you get home from a stressful day at work is take a shower. When you finally get under the warm stream of water, your Zaterran boyfriend gets an idea... Warnings: Nudity, Light Sexual Innuendo, Fluff... Word Count: 1k A/N: I guess this technically isn't smut, but I just felt like taking a more softer approach with this one. I wanted to write something more peaceful and fluffy, with just a small pinch of spice. It doesn't have any sex in it or implied sex, just two lovers enjoying some skin-on-skin contact. So I hope you all enjoy it regardless! 💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Kinktober MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri.

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After a long day of work, I craved nothing more than a nice hot shower and then a comfy bed to slumber deeply in afterwards. I barely even muttered two words to my boyfriend as I entered our shared home and stumbled past him on my way to the bathroom. That's how much I wanted this.

After gladly kicking my shoes off and quickly discarding my clothes, I turned the shower facet to hot and waited until it was nice and steamy before stepping in to encase myself in the soothing heat.

I didn't even bother lathering myself with soap right away, since I was too tired to do so. I just stood in the heavenly stream falling from above, letting all my tense muscles relax from the stressful day I had had.

But that moment of peace came to a quick end when I felt two arms snake around my nude frame to pull me tightly into a hard chest. A startled scream tore from my throat as I attempted to pull away, but the arms only locked tighter around my body. I screamed my boyfriend's name, and then a voice shushed me from behind.

"Shhhhhh; it is only me, my little sunflower." The familiar voice of Syzoth rang behind me, causing my chest to fill with a burning heat of anger.

"Syzoth!" I shrieked in rage and the man merely chuckled mischievously behind me, only making me even more mad. "You nearly gave me a damn heart attack!"

"I am sorry, but I could not resist." He said this as his chuckle faded into words. "Besides, you know how much I like things wet—especially you."

Despite the fact that my heart was beating rapidly due to his little practical joke, I was still relieved that it was him and not some creep sneaking in to get a feel of me. But I should have known because Syzoth would never let an intruder get past the front door. His predator instincts would kick in as soon as he would sense an unwelcomed presence nearby, and he would quickly tear them to shreds.

"How silly of me to forget." I countered in a semi-sarcastic yet seductive tone to tell him that I was no longer mad at his little antics. In fact, I now welcomed them. After all, how could I stay mad when I had a beautiful naked man pressed up against my back?

He lowered his head to press a few soft kisses against my neck and shoulder before resting his face in its crook, and I could feel his loving smile against my skin. My heart rate began to gradually decrease as a sudden feeling of relaxation fell over me once again. Between the soothing warm water showering over our bodies like rain and being trapped in his strong embrace, I truly did feel happy and at peace; he was the best kind of medicine to cure all my stresses and anxieties.

After awhile, I turned in his arms and rested my head against his chest to hear the beautiful song his heart produced for me. I pressed my lips against one of his tattoos on his shoulder and began leaving kisses down the design as he let out a happy and pleased sigh. His hand eventually tangled within my now-soaked hair to caress my head gently as he enjoyed our little moment; it truly was something beautiful that we shared.

After nuzzling my face into his left peck and leaving a few more kisses across his skin, I gazed up at him through my lashes with love. His lips stretched into an adoring smile as his eyes drank me in, causing heat to creep up in my cheeks once more. Then, his hands dropped from my wet locks so he could firmly wrap his arms around me to keep me as close to him as he possibly could.

"I love you," I whispered with love and appreciation filling my tone.

"I love you too, sunshine—more than you know." Syzoth murmured back before pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head.

"Thank you," I uttered breathlessly as I rested my head upon his broad chest, feeling as if everything in our happy little world was finally at peace once again. 

Syzoth then looked down at me with enough confusion painted on his face to cause a light chuckle to escape my throat. He was a smart man, but sometimes things really did fly over his head. But I wouldn't have that any other way; it was adorable. 

"For what?" He asked as he raised a questioning brow. "The kiss? Expressing my love back to you? Invading your shower?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing at his tsunami of questions and shook my head in response as I tried to stifle my fit of giggles. He was always the cutest when confused, and it was one of the things I treasured the most about him.

"No, no—" I breathed as my laughter died down. "I meant, thank you for making my day better."

His features softened into an expression of adoration as soon as I elaborated. I think it was safe to say that he knew I had had a rough day, and he was happy that his attempts to relieve my stress were appreciated. But the truth was that he never had to do much to take my mind off of the struggles of everyday life. He was the perfect distraction from everything, and he made my world a whole lot better when he arrived in it. I couldn't have been more grateful to receive such a gift from above.

"Anytime, my little sunshine." He murmured in a tone so soft that I could have cried. He lowered his head to press another kiss against my forehead before resting his head atop mine.

So there we stood, bodies free of our fabricated prisons and tangled together tightly in a warm embrace, while water rained down on us like a soothing waterfall. It was exactly what I needed to end such a stressful day.

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[bored-storyteller]

WARNING: Masochism, biting, slight mention of blood, drinking blood, mention of being eaten.

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x Human!Reader

Theet

Love is an abstract concept, no one can say what love really is.

There are those who believe that love is always right, there are those who say that an unhealthy love is not love. Maybe so, maybe certain kinds of love shouldn't exist.

There are those who say that love is nothing but a lie, there are those who say it is a deception of the brain. Perhaps this is also true.

You don’t know.

Love can be right or wrong, and you don't know which side your love is on, but you don't care.

Whether you call it love or madness, whethever is the name that the world give to your feelings is not important. It's so present, warm, piercing at times. It's in your chest, in your guts, in your eyes every time you meet his.

He is dangerous. You love him.

Your name rings out lightly, a call that barely surpasses the hum of the fan at the back of the room. Uta looks at you calmly, a veil of amusement on his blood irises.

"Sorry." You hum softly with a smile “I was watching you.”

“I had noticed that.” His gentle voice doesn't hide a shred of smugness that just makes you snort, but you're too focused to joke with him.

You're sitting on his lap, his hands resting lazily on your hips and yours caressing his face carefully.

Your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

“What are you looking at with such interest?” He asks you. You know he is watching you, he is trying to understand what you are studying with such interest.

You are a discovery, for each other.

“Your teeth.” You answer in a distracted murmur.

His face tilts slightly, leaning a little more into your touch, and you know that if you weren't so focused on his lips you'd see a perplexity hidden in his gaze, a perplexity you wouldn't be able to decipher.

"I don't think they're my best side." He jokes. You allow him a grateful laugh, but you're still taken by his mouth, by his movements, by your fingertips brushing his fangs.

They look like those of any human being, yet to the touch you can feel how hard, sharp they are.

You press a little, and like paper your skin breaks.

The game Uta was letting you play stops when he jerks his head away.

He go away, but he doesn't say anything. He looks at you silently with an expression you can't decipher; he could be scared, uncertain, curious…don't even waste time wondering.

A crimson droplet forms on the tip of your finger - it's beautiful, you think. You're sure he's of the same opinion too, especially him.

Inky eyes look at you, ask your intentions, and you can't help yourself.

He's dangerous, you think as your cheek rubs against his.

You love him so much, you think, as your bare shoulder comes to press against his lips.

You don't know if his love for you is healthy, if he loves you right, but you don't care.

You love that he indulges you, you don't know if it's your desire or his. Maybe you forced him, maybe he's hungry and tempted by the smell of your blood. Perhaps you are cruel to him.

Or maybe he loves you with all of his being.

His jaws open slowly, his teeth lean against your helpless skin.

And then the tear, the holes deepening, the blood blooms.

It hurts you, you can't hold back a moan of pain, but at the same time your hands are squeezing his shoulders.

He moans in pleasure, entranced, as if he's tasting something delicious. No, he's tasting something delicious.

His lips kiss you, his tongue licks, he sucks. You feel the blood coming out of the wound, it's hot that it almost burns. Yet you can't help thinking that it's beautiful what's happening: your fusion, complete and total. Just because Uta does it, that's the only reason it can happen.

You can't not love him right now, while you feel it completely, in his natural instincts, in being what he is. His teeth, his ghoul's teeth claiming your flesh.

Then, the grip loosens, and even if he tries to hide it you feel him filling his lungs with air: giving up is a sacrifice for him.

"You're delicious." He admits, and you see his tongue flick across his pierced lips “But it could be dangerous to play like this again, you know?”

Your hands are in your hair now, your fingers play delicately, a slight smile paints on your lips: "Are you afraid?" You ask him softly, a slight defiant tone hovers in your question.

His almost nonexistent eyebrows twitch, just for a fraction of a second, but you see them. His lips stretch a little in an amused expression: "Are you not?"

You caress his lower lip slowly, without risking anything this time: “Don't say you wouldn't like it. Don't say you wouldn't love me like that."

“Would you accept it?”

"Yes."

Maybe he's surprised by your prompt response, or maybe not. Uta is silent, and that silence expands over time so much that you're convinced there's nothing more to say, but in the end he speaks.

"And you don't think about me?" He asks you as if he were jokingly begging you "To your poor Uta who will be left all alone on this miserable world?"

You touch the tip of his nose: "I'm sure my poor Uta could survive."

“Mmh…yes. But eating you could be my last joy and the beginning of my madness."

You laugh, because differentiating a crazy Uta from a healthy one isn't understandable in your head, but you understand what he wants to tell you, you understand his intentions.

“It would be our tragedy.” you say as the tip of your nose brushes his.

Only a murmur of acknowledgment comes from him as his hand slips delicately under the fabric of your shirt, brushing against your cool, bare skin.

“Yeah…too bad it can never be told.”

[dior-elkie]

a messed up kaishin fic

fic starts below ;; remember: 1. these are all fiction ! 2. dont actually kiss infront of a dead person 3. dont mind the grammar, eng is not my first language 4. bit nsfw 5. a fic that was born because of this: https://x.com/m0nokyo/status/1797397048242712823

Shinichi Kudo and Kaito Kuroba had been dating for nearly a year. They were an odd pair: Shinichi, the brilliant detective, and Kaito, the mischievous magician. Their relationship was a balance of intellect and whimsy, creating a dynamic that was both challenging and exhilarating.

One evening, Kaito invited Shinichi (and Shinichi invited Hattori, his ‘best friend’) to one of his magic shows. It was a special performance, one he had designed specifically for Shinichi. The audience was enraptured as Kaito executed one breathtaking trick after another. Shinichi watched from the front row, his eyes filled with admiration and love. Hattori was next to him, teasing him.

Then, Kaito announced that the final act would start. The finale was an act of unmatched boldness. It was an impossible act if I do say so myself. 

Kaito, bound in chains, was lowered into a tank of water filled with a hundred piranhas. When he got inside, his assistant, Jii, closed the tank and locked it. Then he covered it with cloth for the ‘magic’ to happen. The one-minute timer started and the audience waited in anticipation.

Next thing you know, the one-minute timer is done. However, Kaito still hasn’t given Jii the ‘signal’. Jii became worried and decided to check on the magician while saying something to the audience. He went to peek behind the cloth just to see the water was turning red and Kaito’s body ripped to shreds, unrecognizable. He looked like he was skinned alive, a bit of his skull was showing and some of his organs could be seen too. The piranhas were having the time of their life as they ate Kaito bit by bit.

You’re wondering why Kaito hasn't screamed and asked for help? The glass is soundproofed, and any inside noise won't be heard. The ‘signal’ his assistant was waiting for was the knock on the tank door. But Kaito couldn’t do that to ask for help because he didn't have the strength to lift his arm and knock while being eaten by one of the deadliest fish.

His assistant was in shock. He almost threw up in front of a thousand people. He stepped backward. His left hand still holding up the cloth just enough so he could see the horrendous sight in front of him, while his other hand was over his mouth to prevent him from throwing up.

The audience watched him in confusion and started murmuring. On the other hand, Shinichi grew restless.

‘Did something happen? Why does he look like that? Why does he look like he’s about to throw—–’ He couldn’t finish what he was thinking when the assistant tripped and accidentally showed the gruesome scene on the stage. Then, the next thing he knew, everyone was screaming, throwing up, and leaving the place.

“What the fuck.” Hattori gagged, “I’ve seen so many dead bodies but I’ve never seen anything as gory as this.” He said as he looked away from the bloody tank, looked at his friend, and hugged him. “Look away, Kudo.”

Shinichi felt his world collapse around him. The sight of Kaito's mangled body haunted his every thought. Despite Hattori's attempt to shield him, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the horror. His mind raced, battling disbelief and a profound sense of loss. The vibrant, mischievous Kaito, who had brought so much joy and chaos into his life, was gone in the most gruesome manner imaginable.

He shook himself out of his stupor, his detective instincts taking over. There had to be an explanation. Kaito was a master of deception; maybe this was one of his elaborate tricks. But the blood, the smell, and the reaction of the audience told him otherwise. This was real, and Kaito was dead.

Shinichi pushed past Hattori and ran to the stage. He had to see for himself, had to find some clue that would make sense of this nightmare. Jii was still sitting there, pale and shaking. Shinichi grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to focus.

"What happened? How could this have happened?" Shinichi demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Jii shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I don't know! It was supposed to be safe! We've done this trick countless times! I don't understand how—"

“Stop. Shinichi.” Hattori’s voice was firm but gentle as he gripped Shinichi’s shoulders and pulled him away from Jii. The desperation and pain in Shinichi’s eyes were almost too much to bear.

Shinichi tried to push past him, but Hattori held him firmly. “Let me go, Hattori! I need to know what happened!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

“Shinichi, look at me,” Hattori insisted, his tone unwavering. He cupped Shinichi’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing you can do right now. You need to calm down.”

Shinichi’s breath hitched, his eyes wide and filled with anguish. Hattori’s expression softened, and without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Shinichi’s.

The kiss was tender yet intense, a mix of comfort and desperation. For a moment, Shinichi resisted, his mind still reeling from the horror before him. But then, he melted into the kiss, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth and familiarity of Hattori’s embrace. The world around them seemed to blur, and all that existed was the solace of Hattori’s touch.

Hattori and Shinichi were locked in a heated embrace, their bodies pressing against each other so tightly that it seemed as though they might merge into one being. Hattori's tongue darted out, tracing the outline of Shinichi's lips before forcing its way past, thrusting deep into his mouth. He moaned, his hands gripping tightly onto Shinichi's shoulders as he felt his best friend's hips begin to move in a familiar rhythm against his own.

Shinichi’s lover’s dead body was completely forgotten as he arched his back, his hands fisting in Hattori's hair as he ground their pelvises together. His mouth opened, revealing his teeth as he bit down on Hattori's bottom lip. He didn't care; he was lost in the sensation of their bodies moving together. The smell of blood, the screams of people, and the thought of his dead lover are all fading away into insignificance.

Hattori cried out, his head thrown back, his eyes closed tightly. His hands roamed over Shinichi's back, digging into the firm muscle as he felt the other man's erection pressing against his own. He could feel the need building inside him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment. Shinichi let out a loud moan, his hands scrabbling at Hattori's shoulders as he struggled to keep his balance. 

For a moment, they stood there, panting heavily, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Then, with a soft laugh, Hattori released Shinichi, and they both collapsed onto the creaky wooden floor, still tangled together in a heap of limbs and sweat-dampened clothing.

As they lay on the creaky wooden floor, the reality of the situation started to seep back in. The raw emotion and adrenaline of their heated moment gave way to the cold, hard truth. Kaito was dead, and his brutal murder demanded justice.

Shinichi sat up, his breath still coming in ragged gasps, and looked at Hattori with a mix of gratitude and determination. “We need to figure out what happened,” he said, his voice steadier now.

Hattori nodded, his eyes softening as he wiped a stray tear from Shinichi’s cheek. “We will. But right now, we need to let the police handle it. We’re too close to this, Kudo.”

Shinichi swallowed hard, knowing Hattori was right. “I know. But I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“You won’t be doing nothing. We’ll make sure they have all the information they need,” Hattori reassured him. “And we’ll keep a close eye on the investigation.”

With a resolute nod, Shinichi stood up, pulling Hattori with him.

“We’ll get through this, Kudo. Together.”

Shinichi nodded, squeezing Hattori’s hand. “Together,” he echoed, finding strength in their bond.

And as the sun rose on a new day, they knew the journey to justice had only just begun.

[b0nten]

SEASONS OF THE HEART

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ as he promised you that you were more than everything combined, he must’ve had himself a change of heart like halfway through his plan, because his voice trailed off exactly as he passed the exit light.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ inspired by noah kahan’s stick seson. can i still classify baji fics as being spoilers? spoilers i guess. angst, mentions of blood. mentions of reader smoking.

as you promised me that i was more than all the miles combined

baji doesn’t do feelings. he doesn’t do long-term, and he, for sure as hell, doesn’t do love.

still, why can’t he explain this tingly thing that he is feeling, this.. fuzziness in his chest? why does he feel his stomach tense when you laugh? or why does his heart feel shredded when you wave him goodbye?

why does chifuyu smile when he tells stories about you, and why does his mother ask him more often if you’re coming over?

if he doesn’t do any of those things, what is this feeling that’s been bubbling up in his chest for what feels like billions of years? what’s been boiling in his stomach, threatening to spill at any time, for the last few weeks and what is that little voice that tells him to “just do it”?

why is he, right now, holding you by your shoulders, struggling to fight off the demon that keeps telling him to clash his lips onto yours?

is he really this fucking stupid? you ask yourself, before you take matters into your own hands. you taunt him, slender fingers weaving through off-white linen, wrinkling the thin fabric, and perfect manicure clashing with the carelessly knotted tie that you try to fix every morning, before you both let all second thoughts dissipate into the rusty air of the junkyard.

the way your name melts off his tongue today is sweeter, sickening dare you even say, and it makes you fifty times hungrier for him than you were just a minute ago.

you must’ve had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive

“be my girlfriend.”

he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t care. right now, for him, it’s this way or nothing at all anymore.

because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign

“baji..” you can only smile and comply, because today might be the first and last time you accept one of baji’s demands.

loud and clear as the birds migrating across the mellow, velvet sky, your heart pounds in your chest, in synch with toman’s division captain’s and there’s this soft and cloudy feeling that sets in your heart, tattooing from ventricle, across to the atrium, this preciously cruel moment.

kept on driving straight and left our future to the right

you gaze into his eyes and remember the wind blowing through your hair, cooling you off from the suffocating tokyo humidity you tried so hard to get used to, to no avail. engine sparks and tire tracks now play a new role in your life, along with the boy that stays so still in front of you it’s worrying.

the stars can’t compare to the beam baji’s smile gives you and the thought of him positively rips your soul into two — one half for you, and the other for him.

now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can’t face

“can it get more beautiful than this?” you hear him break the silence theatrically and, instinctively, your eyebrows furrow together, as response to his talent of ruining some, and maybe all, tender moments.

only, today, he isn’t ruining anything, today is his, and so are you, so you can only look at him with the soft smile of being in love for the first time and take his in, hoping the memory will permanently grow a root into even the smallest corner of your mind.

memories are something even smoking weed does not replace

and curse your bad habit, because your lighter falls from your pocket right then, allowing baji to chuckle one last time. his hand reaches for your cheek, wiping away the small tear that your own couldn’t, and he tries to perch himself up to kiss your forehead like always.

his little fangs peek from underneath his tear-ridden lips while his hand tries it’s best to soothe your little sobs, and this time he can’t promise you anything but the world for the next time he sees you.

“i hate lying to you, ” he whispers, “but today i might lie to myself, i’ll keep telling myself i gave and will give you all the stars and the galaxies.”

and i am terrified of weather ‘cause i see you when it rains

“let go” he whispers and reaches to his back to take the traveling hand away.

when you wipe your face an obvious streak of maroon clings to your face and the smell of copper makes your eyes water and stomach turn inside out. sickening or repulsive are not words strong or good enough to describe the empty pit the sharp odor of the mass you’re now covered in creates in your stomach.

“i don’t wanna” you simply say, and he smiles, because that’s all that he has the strength for anymore.

ear-wrenching silence creates a bubble around you, and your breath hitches in your chest when he finally, thankfully, says something.

“there’s one thing you have to do, though. and promise me you will, ” you’re skeptical of his wish, but you still hear him out, hoping it’s nothing crazy. “two things, actually, now that i think about it.” he corrects.

“i’m hearing you out.” you nod, choking back on your neglected cries. you’d like to swear, scream, shout and smash at everyone and everything that is anywhere near you, but him.

“leave the gang. and, most importantly, be happy.”

you’re left dumbfounded, and so is everyone else. even the haitanis, kisaki and hanma look at him like they’ve heard the biggest secret the earth holds.

you bargain with yourself in your own mind, the prison only he knows how to escape by heart, because he’s been in there enough times to save you from it. it’s no wonder he lifts a hand up again and simply has your face so close to his you can hear his struggling breaths.

“so, what do you say?” he asks with the same boyish grin he slaps on his face to annoy you, apparently even on his deathbed.

today, you’re feeling angry. maybe if the gods weren’t cruel, baji would be asking you that in ten years time, under completely different circumstances. you curse fate into next year, wondering why it had to stomp your heart to bits and slice your soul clean in two, only to let one part wilt prematurely.

today, you’re not feeling remorseful, you want revenge on fate, and that’s part of why you’re giving baji everything he wants: if there’s one person who knows how to cheat the Moirai, it’s him and you, together, against the rest of this cruel, despicable world.

“i promise, ” you start off slowly, as you feel the eyes of everyone widen in shock and disbelief, burning holes in the nape of your neck and top of your head, “i’ll leave the gang, and be happy for you, baji.” you finish, forehead clashing down onto his. your hands cling to him like the leaves cling to their branches upon autumn coming, only this time, your linen is wrinkled and and stained, and baji can only whisper a faint thank you.

he lets your long-awaited cries somewhat consume themselves, before he finally whispers the three words you never took so seriously until now.

“i love you, y/n.” he stresses the second word, he wants you to remember it until you meet again.

“i love you too.” you answer back.

one smile, and it’s over. then, it all comes clashing down: as red as your shirt and cheeks are from the blood and the crying, just as red is everything you see around you now.

should you yell? you don’t know. should you fight? you don’t know that either. just moments ago, baji was being his usual self, while laying bleeding in your arms. you don’t know how you’re supposed to feel, how you want to feel or how you feel. the world around you is simple static, drowning out the screams and gasps of other boys. it pierces through your eardrums and it hurts, for sure, but it’s also clarifying.

you press one last kiss to your now boyfriend’s temple, then simply get up and walk away.

“mikey, draken, chifuyu,” you cought to get their attention, “i’m not a liar.”

albeit stunned, and partly in denial, that’s all you need to say for them to understand what you mean.

“i announce my resignation as strategic analyst of the tokyo manji gang.”

the words are harsh, but the hurt and sorrow calmly seep through them. it’s peculiar, bizarre, disturbing even. you stress the fifth word like baji’s did to love no more than a few minutes ago.

will you be happy? you hope so. will you be happy without him? no. never.

[hughiecampbelle]

Heed (Roman Roy x Mencken!Reader)

Chatacter/s: Roman, Mencken, Logan mention

Word Count: 1,413

Inspired By: Nothing's New by Rio Romeo

Requested: hihi! ahh i loved your newest roman fic! i also have severe roman brain rot & would love a fic that is super fluffy & hurt/comfort where he is super soft with the reader (either his s/o or situationship or friend or lil sibling i don’t mind & hope that isn’t to vague) & treats them like he does with kerry in ep4 at logans wake.thank you so so so much xx - anon

A/N: Are you ready for the hurt/comfort my love???? Because I don't think you are!!! :P This was so cute, he was literally so cute in that moment like god please let him be soft!!! Thank you for requesting my love!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist

You scream his name, but it’s too late. They recognize you. They’re grabbing at you, pulling at your clothes, tearing them from your body. You’ve fallen to the ground, on your hands and knees, begging for them to stop. Crying out to him. There’s too many of them, they’ve made a wall around you, a bubble he can’t pop. They’re kicking you, punching you, pulling at your hair. The road burns under your skin, your palms being torn to shreds. You taste blood in your mouth, choking on it, unable to cry out any longer. He’s calling your name, crying out to you, but you can’t move. You can’t fight. There’s too many. You can feel it in your stomach, in your sides, your chest: their anger. They won’t stop. All of them are so angry, so full of rage, taking it out on you. Your shirt is torn open, torn off, discarded in the crowd, one of your shoes gone. Your left eye has swollen completely shut and there’s a terrible, pulsing ache on the side of your head. It vibrates through your skull, making you nauseous, terribly aware of the iron taste in your mouth. Something wet and hot drips down your face, your chin. It feels like forever, hands groping you, touching you. They spit their words. Words meant for your brother, your family, not you. You had nothing to do with his campaign, his supposed win. Nothing. You shared a single last name, that was all. That was all. Eternity passes before they’ve grown tired, bored, before you’ve gone limp, crying quietly to yourself, your arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the cold of night. They’ve moved on, leaving you shaking, whimpering. Someone touches you, but you pull away, screaming at them to get away from you, get away. He just shushes you. It’s me, he says as gently as possible, It’s just me. You open your good eye, staring up at him. He’s bleeding. One of his eyes has gone completely red. He looks frantic, disheveled. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, all he can see is the crowd swarming around you, hurting you, you calling out for him and he’s unable to help. He’d never felt so helpless. Steadily, holding out his hands, he reaches for his jacket. He slips it off, putting it around your bare shoulders, making sure you see his every action. Despite yourself, you flinch. Despite yourself, you fall into him, shuddering, shaking, crying. He doesn’t think about it, instead instinctively putting his arms around you, holding you tight. It’s okay, he whispers, everything is going to be okay. 

He never meant for this to happen. 

Your brother never should have said what he did. You knew, under that faux laugh and eye roll was someone hurting, mourning, grieving. You tried to apologize later on, but by then the damage had been done. By Jeryd, by Kendall, by that stupid video going around. From the moment you met him you liked him. You didn’t care about the friendship between him and your brother, or that he was a Roy. He was funny, and kind when no one was looking. You’d only talked a few times, but you got the sense that he liked you, too. He went to seek you out at the election party, the two of you conversing in your own private corner for over an hour. He made you laugh easily, hysterically, until you were crying. Nothing was off limits. You spoke of your brother's political career, how it had made an impact on your life. It could be worse, you shrugged, trying not to sound inconsiderate. Roman was, after all, a huge help. He’d been with him from the beginning, most of the family had, too. You’d told him how sorry you were about his father, hugging him tight, and you noticed he didn’t resist or try to side-step you like he had others. His shoulders slumped a little. He was taking it in, really taking it in, grateful you weren’t made of plastic like everyone else. It could also be better, he objected. You just nodded, unsure of what to say. It could always be better. True. You’d lost a lot of friends because of Jeryd, a lot of people in your life. It felt like, sometimes, you only had Roman. He’d asked for your number, for anything about the campaign he’d said quickly after, but you understood. You texted, you called. Sometimes about your brother. Mostly about life. How you were doing, how he was doing. He wasn’t all defensive and witty over text. He dropped the exhausting act. It was nice. You were seeing the real him. When he took off you chased after him. You couldn’t let him do what he was going to do, whatever it was, fearing the worst. He walked down the street, past his car, towards the protesters. Your stomach dropped. You watched him get hit, once twice, before going down. You called to him, trying to save him from himself, climbing over the barrier. You shouldn’t have. It was stupid. But you couldn’t let him get hurt. That’s when they recognized you, that’s when they came after you. 

You stay like that for a long time. He rubs your back, hushing your cries. It’ll be okay, we’ll get you some help. Head pounding, sides aching, everything hurt. It hurts to breathe. Slowly you make your way to the other side of the barriers where he sits you down on the sidewalk, trying to access your wounds. You’ll need stitches, he thinks dreadfully, a lot of them. As carefully as possible, he wipes the blood away, red soaking into the sleeve of his white button up. Your head is pretty banged up and you might be missing a few back teeth. He can see the bruises forming in the opening of his jacket and your palms are bright red. You’d stopped crying, now embarrassed. I’m okay, really, you protested, fighting him, but the look in his eyes was scared and stern: stay put. You couldn’t stop yourself from apologizing. If you’d been smarter, if you thought for just one second, he wouldn’t have to be doing this. Roman was quite a moment, getting to your level on the ground. This is my fault, not yours. You were, you were just being a good person. You shake your head, going on and on about what an idiot you are, but he’s not listening. He tips your chin up, making you look in those big brown eyes. So sad, you think, so hurt. Listen to me, his voice soft, shaking. This wasn’t- it’s not- none of this was your fault, okay? You just shrugged, defeated. He calls a car that should be there soon. In the meantime he sits beside you, every so often dabbing your forehead. Is it as bad as it feels? You’re quiet now. How would you explain this to your brother? How could you explain your lack of thought? You just moved, you just acted, following him because you were worried, because you were petrified about what would happen to him if you didn’t. He’d never understand. You and Roman, you weren’t anything, but you cared about him and he cared about you. It didn’t have to have a name. It didn’t have to exist to everyone else. He shakes his head, dabbing the blood. You kinda pull it off. You smile, nudging him. Really, this could be the new look. You roll your eyes. You let your head rest on his shoulder, exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off. Everything hurts, everything aches. You reach with your tongue in two empty sockets. Your teeth must be over there, on the sidewalk. He puts his arm around you, letting it hover just above your skin, not wanting to cause anymore harm. He knows you’re tender, that the booze and emotions will wear off and you’ll be in a world of pain. The car pulls up just as he’s about to call. Slowly he guides you in, climbing in beside you. They start to drive quickly, towards the nearest hospital, every so often glaring up at you two. What a sight. Your poor eye, you whisper, touching the side of his bruised face. He holds your hands, knowing how they must burn. He didn’t care the least about himself, you were his only concern. You should see the other guy.

[chaoticallyfragmentary]

Dabi x Reader

Contains Dabi and reader as lovers, a Dabi who is kind of capable of emotional intelligence and articulation. A little bit of angst, the we’ll die in a couple days so let me show you how much I love you one last time kind. Lots of fluff and feels and descriptions of sex, nothing too explicit. As usual, do not read if it makes you uncomfortable. Just some Dabi lovin’, the sweet and sad kind where reader and him are a great big tragedy. It’s not so sad as all that I hope, so enjoy. 

Dabi wore his mask well, but it had developed cracks. Tiny fissures spiderwebbing across what had once been an impenetrable surface.

“Don’t be upset doll.”

“Excellent opener, Dabi. I’m feeling so at ease right now.” You look up from the plans, brows lifted, waiting for whatever would upset you.

“I-I want you to know--” Dabi takes a deep breath and gives you a small, sad smile. “All my life, I’ve been ravaged by longing, shredded by grief and held together by rage. The only thing—the only thing that made any of it bearable was you princess.”

“Wait, t-that s-s-sounds like a goodbye Dabi, a-are you saying goodbye?” you demand, though it comes out more like a plea, voice thick with the lump in your throat.

“Gods no doll, I-I just want you to know that I would not have known a hint of relief, or a slice of joy, if I did not have the pleasure of knowing you” he croaks.

You feel dangerously close to tears, eyes prickling with heat but you don’t want to cry, not wasting a second in mourning what you haven’t lost yet. You’ll do it later, alone, when if there is a reason to.

But right now, Touya is here. He is still here and you love him dearly, dreadfully and with a defiance that makes your heart sing, a love so deep for what you cannot keep but oh god, do you want to, dance by the firelight with him, cook with him and fold laundry with him, live a modest life with him, almost mundane in its simplicity. Quiet and safe, walls stained with the happiness of a life well lived, vision tinted golden.

In another life maybe, but in this one, you are a great big tragedy and you don’t want to say goodbye.

Just not yet.

Gods, please not yet.

“Don’t cry doll” he breathes out, cradling your face, mumbling reassurances or pleas, you didn’t know, thumbs swiping away your tears with a tenderness so uncharacteristic, it sends a fresh wave right down your cheeks. “I mean, you are completely breaking my heart right now and admittedly, what little of it exists is yours and you can do with it what you want but doll,” he huffs out a weak laugh when you muster up the strength to glare at him. Dabi is undoubtedly frazzled, borderline desperate and it is oddly cute, a word you’ve never associated with him.

You start crawling right into his lap, settling down on his thighs as he continues to stroke your cheeks, instinctively wrapping his other arm around your waist. He kisses you on the forehead, just a peck, barely there and proceeds to do just the same on your nose, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth and starts nibbling on your ears and you start smiling, giggling along helplessly and Dabi smiles, and it strikes you that it was a smile of being known, all bright and bold and beautiful.

“Mine, princess. All mine.” You shouldn’t be so enticed by the idea of belonging to anyone, much less a wanted villain considering your position, but every single time Dabi claims you as his, a thrill shoots down your spine. Considering the way he repeats himself, something heady and possessive about his tone, you guess he’s figured it out already.

“And I’m yours, all yours princess,” he says, like it is resolute and set in stone, indisputable and you cannot be blamed for losing your breath when he says it like that. Like he is yours to claim and possess. It terrifies you, in the best way possible as Dabi finally kisses you, with a gentleness bordering on devotion, making a quiet sound into your kiss as you snatch a little frantically at that stupid black coat of his, trying to paw it off. He backs off enough with breathless laughter as you finally peel him out of that coat and launch it across the room, hitting Twice, probably as he backs off, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

He groans as you slide your hands down his chest, bringing one of his nipples into your mouth as he blows out a deep breath, his grip on your ass almost bruising. “Doll, princess, please,” he keens, pleading, hands trembling with the effort it took to hold still. He looks so embarrassed it’s almost painful as you toy with his other nipple. 

“Okay, enough doll” he breathes out and you yelp as he stands to his feet and hauls you up with him at the same time, your legs naturally wrapping around him. “I love it when you manhandle me sir,” you blurt out, hands gripping his shoulders as you, quite literally bite into his neck, just enough to sting. He sucks in a sharp breath but follows it by slapping your ass so, no dice. His lips twitch as he figures out that you’ve been trying to fluster him and then he dumps you, right into his bed with no warning whatsoever.

He looks at you, mouth forming a perfect circle as you gape at him, him crawling up the length of your body, him looking like sin personified. You are still quite dazed as he dips in to kiss you, the frantic hurried kind, divesting you of clothes, then the lazy, languid kind, drawing moans out of you as he licks into your mouth. That filthy little thing. Dragging his mouth along your jaw as you pant beneath him. 

“Please,” your voice cracks as he draws lazy circles with his tongue, on your exposed skin. When he pulls back, you chase his mouth, eyes glazed as you want his mouth back on you, back where it was. “Please,” your voice rasps as he starts kissing down your stomach.

Dabi looks at you, magic made life and thinks, it’s so fucking worth it. If he had to lead a life like that for it to lead to you, it was so worth it. Everything else takes the back seat, the imminent danger, the possibility of future death, just you in the forefront. Your moans, the hitched breaths, every time your mouth shaped around his name, every fucking thing that starts and ends with you, so worth it.

You are a mess throughout and Dabi feels so fortunate that he gets to hold you in his arms, this lovely stuttering mess that he can lay claim to and be claimed by. He laughs as you squirm against him, yank on his hair and gasp into his mouth, chanting his name, begging, and so far gone as he draws a third orgasm out of you. Dabi has been with people before, but never been in love, so he is astounded by the intimacy every time he made love to you, astounded by how much he feels, all at once as he fucks his fingers into you, his whole world beginning and ending with you, wanting to just stay with you, in this forever that you’ve both made, a little desperate and dazed, to just feel the joy of existing in this moment that feels caught in amber, everlasting and just ours.

He presses his face into the bend of your throat, tangling your fingers together and he is so lost to pleasure, that you are amazed by how loud he is. It drives you a bit mad to be honest as you clench around him, choking out some variation of “Don’t stop—please, please baby, don’t stop,” as you arch beneath him, “I wasn’t going to princess,” he gasps out, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to keep it together, which is a miracle in itself as you stare up at him, face flushed and chest heaving. He couldn’t physically stop himself from kissing you, not coming up for air as every fiber of him tells him he could go without, too busy falling apart as everything good in the world is with him, meeting his every thrust until his ears are ringing and the only name being chanted is yours, steadily spilling out from his mouth in wonder.

If he kisses you like he has something to tell you, all the love he couldn’t put into words, pouring out of him as you open your mouth wide and let him in, all tongue and teeth, kisses you, hand around your neck, like he wants to crawl inside you, kisses you like you are his passion, his desire, his death, kisses you like he is branding you, you are his, his, in every iteration of the universe, there is you and there is him, stroking your tongue with his own as he tells you, he’d find you in every one of your lives, across time and across space, as you kiss him back, utterly entranced, panting and moaning as you think, okay.