#「yes all of my thoughts are intrusive...」 thoughts

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 2

unsurprisingly, caitlin was an amazing kisser. she kissed exactly the way you liked it. enough tongue that the kiss was wet and messy in a good way but not too much that it was sloppy or gross. the hand on your neck snaked into your hair to cradle the back of your head. the hand holding your hands down moved to your face. the kiss was slow and sweet but so so filthy in the best way. you pulled back and took in how beautiful she looked. her eyes were full of lust, her cheeks flushed, and her lips were wet from your kiss. she stroked your cheek with her thumb

“let me take care of you” you breathed out “let me make you feel good”

“fuck yes. please” you gave her another deep kiss before sitting up and taking your baggy t-shirt off. you don’t want anything getting in the way of this moment

“i’m gonna go slow so you can relax and take time to enjoy yourself” you gave her a quick peck on the lips before moving to her ear and whispering “and so i have more time to hear you scream” you slowly placed kisses down her neck, careful to avoid marks in case someone recognizes her at the hotel and a picture from vacation gets on the internet. you kissed from the side of her neck to the middle before starting down her chest. the soft moans and sweet whimpers returned. letting the intrusive thoughts win, you moved your head to her underwear waistline and licked from her bellybutton to the middle of her chest. she raised her eyebrows

“i didn’t realize you were an ab licker. you’re dirty as hell”

“if you don’t like anything i do, just tell me”

“i never said i didn’t like it” with that in mind, you licked all the way up her right thigh to the edge of her underwear. she made a noise of surprise, but not displeasure. you moved your head back down to her right knee and gave small light kisses up her thigh. her soft moans and sweet whimpers turned you on endlessly and only encouraged you to continue your teasing. once you got to the top of her thigh, you rubbed your nose against the wet spot (which definitely did get bigger) and licked it. caitlin groaned your name and you swore it was the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. it almost made you abandon your plan. almost

instead of eating her out like she wanted, you moved to caitlin’s left knee and started placing small light kisses up her left thigh. if she asked, you would’ve told her you did it to make the payoff better but, selfishly, you wanted to prolong the moment. you weren’t sure you were going to get to touch her again and you wanted to make this last as long as you could. you wanted her soft moans and sweet whimpers to go on as long as possible. when you got to the top of her thigh, you pulled your head fully away from her. she gave you a death stare until you hooked your fingers on the side of her underwear and pulled them off her body. you moved your head back between her legs

“you’re so wet” you teased “is this all for me?” caitlin whined out a yes and you finally put her out of her misery. you licked her pussy and she brought her hands to your head. she pulled on your hair and you yourself let out a moan. caitlin pulling your hair while you ate her out was something you fantasized about for years. it was unbelievable that this was actually happening. you started sucking on her clit and brought two fingers up to her mouth. she was certainly wet enough to take your fingers without it but you’ve wanted her to suck on your fingers forever. yes it was probably too much to have all of these fantasies about your friend but it’s not your fault! she’s too hot. it’s actually her fault you have all these dirty thoughts

as caitlin sucked on your fingers you determined that the fantasy could never live up to the real thing. you pulled your fingers out of her mouth and put them inside her. you curled your fingers up into her as you continued sucking on her clit. you tried to commit her pretty noises to memory as she came closer to orgasm. she groaned your name over and over. definitely the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. caitlin came on your fingers and you let her ride out her orgasm. you pulled your fingers out of her and put them in your mouth. she sat up on the bed as you wiped your face. you sat up next to her and smiled

“was that good for you? do you feel more relaxed now?”

“yes that was amazing. can you do something for me? it would really help me relax”

“yes whatever you want”

“let me make you cum” your jaw dropped open and you stuttered a bit

“i-i-i mean if it would help you relax then who would i be to tell you no?” you tried-and failed-to maintain your composure at the idea of caitlin touching you. you were already distractingly wet but just thinking about her touching you sent a new surge of wetness between your legs. she gave you a dirty smile, put her hands on your hips, and tugged at your sweats and underwear

“off” she commanded. awkward nerdy off court caitlin was gone and confident cocky on court caitlin had appeared. you lifted your hips so she could take your clothes off your body. wasting no time, she immediately put her head between your legs. your fingers gripped her hair as you fought the urge to tilt your head back and close your eyes. you wanted the visual of her eating you out seared into your mind in case this was a one time thing. she pulled her head back. her eyes were wide and doe-y and her entire face was wet. fuck

“you’re so wet. is this all for me?” she teased you with your own words and you were too desperate to be cute

“yes all for you. please keep going” smirking and satisfied with your answer, caitlin continued to eat you out. she was fucking relentless as she ate you out with an intensity you’ve only ever seen from her on the court. you tried to hold off your orgasm to savor the moment but she was too much for you

“i can feel you fighting. let go” you pulled her hair as you came all over her pretty face. she sat herself up in front of you and you stared at her in awe. she slowly wiped her face while never breaking eye contact. she brought her fingers between your legs and traced your pussy with them. you inhaled deeply as she brought them to her mouth

“you’re still wet” she said with a dirty smile “what do you want?”

“what do you mean?” maybe it was your post orgasm haze or maybe the question was actually unclear, but you didn’t understand what she was getting at

“i’m going to make you cum again. how do you want it?” any and every way she was willing to give it to you. but you couldn’t be greedy

“let me ride your thigh” years of seeing her gorgeous legs in shorts made the choice obvious. she moved to the headboard, sitting up with her legs spread. you threw your legs over her thigh and lowered yourself down. caitlin’s large hands grabbed your hips and guided you up and down her thigh. you were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm, you knew you weren’t going to last long. you stared at her face as you got yourself off on her thigh. she looked so pretty all fucked out and focused on your pleasure. she flexed her muscular thigh and the sensation went right to your clit. you moaned out her name pathetically

“that’s it baby. cum for me” with another flex of her thigh, you came again with a strangled moan of her name. caitlin giggled as you caught your breath. how can she always be cute and sexy at the same time? she moved her hands from your hips to your face. she sweetly stroked your cheeks with her thumbs

“now i feel relaxed”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Okay, so... I've been thinking... I'm wondering if I should make a comfort au for myself, to share with y'all. The only thing is, um... it's kinda a drone au...

Why is that trope or specific au important to me? Well, I'll explain. My head is never quiet. Ever. Every time I'm fully awake, even half-way awake, it's thinking, then overthinking, then overnanalyzing every thought and every move I make. Sometimes the thoughts are intrusive or unwanted, like worries over politics or the bad things going on in the world. Sometimes my thoughts are creative, like the aus I make or what materials or colors I want for my hand-sewn dolls and plushes. Othertimes it's just too loud or too chaotic, when multiple ideas are fighting to be remembered or forgotten.

So the idea of a specific trope or au where all of that goes away, by force or not? Well, it's a little soothing. I like exploring the different drones and their jobs and purpose, as well as what their world is like. How does Reader end up with them? Were they an ex drone? Did they have a friend who was one? Are they even human? Or are they something else?

So. Yeah. I wouldn't mind exploring this and making an au. If I do, though, I'm making the characters at youngest 18, though. Since this might be a bit more intense, I guess, for some? No s*x or romance though, only platonic feels and hugging and possible world or planet domination!

So... ye, or no? If so, should it be original characters, or maybe one of my X-Men AUs (one of my own making, so not any media or series, as everyone has to be at least 18)... Maybe mutants are all genetically modified soldiers and workers, but decided humans did not treat them kindly, they themselves would take over amd do better? Or maybe an outbreak happened, but Reader is trying to fight it, but keeps almost getting caught by old friends and foes now obsessed with having their missing piece back? Who knows. ( @sugar-soda @thewickedweiner ) I do feel a little embarrassed liking it, but the idea is I guess I like the calm attitude, or just the warm, fuzzy content, the not oberthinking everything, the sleepy cuddle piles and different sleeping places...

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 10: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

[chihuahuawashere]

I watched MLP as a kid and sadly was one of the victims that got scared out of their minds when watching it on YouTube and clicked baited into watching those scary trauma inducing MLP videos.

But i blocked those out of my mind for the longest of time until i want back into it more years later reading all of the infected aus and it kinda me wondering. What if instead of infected MLP aus it was MLB?

Now stay with me, what if HawkMoths akumas infected the akumatized victims into slowing becoming monsters? Like at first okay you get akumatized and that’s okay because ladybug and chat noir will fix you in a day and yes that’s true but after that your mood feels different like you can never /truly/ be happy it’s like there’s a cloud or fog in your mind and you think your just obviously just going through the motions of what just happened.

But then you start to feel a little different, the primal instincts in your gut is telling you that something is going to happen and all your mental alarms are ringing like crazy but at this point it’s been a couple of weeks after your “accident” and nothing bad really happened aside from the normal akumazited victims that’s came after you.

So you feel like you shouldn’t be /too/ worried but after awhile it truly feels like your not in your own skin on top of that your intrusive thoughts become more and more louder. They’re so /loud/ and different from your other thoughts that you think someone else is in your head it feels so out of place that it genuinely scares you.

It’s not just that “oh f**k it let’s shave your head” no it’s so horrid and gruesome that your scared of even leaving your house in fears of hurting someone at that point it might be a month in since the “accident” and again nothing really changed in the world so you really think your going crazy but no.

Because now your body is literally physically changing. -like for example let’s use Nino since (after looking it up) he was the first akumatized victim. After going through the mood swings body aches and paranoia thoughts his skin is starting to change, he’s eyes are getting sucken and with black rings around it, (he thought it was because of the lack of sleep) but he also sees his face is a tab bit blue? But his chest looks red? And he’s hands and feet are turning black he chalks it up to his paranoia and locks himself completely in his room, he has alittle brother and doesn’t want to hurt him with aggressive his thought are getting.

The next time he looks into the mirror he’s arms and legs and stomach are swollen like they’ve been stung by a thousand bees and the different colors of blues yellows reds and blacks all more apparent now his body aches all the time and feels like it’s on fire even breathing feels like there’s fire in his lungs at this point it’s just straight up body horror. His skin is trying to recreate his akumatized body. And at this points It’s hard to even strung thoughts together to even come up with that conclusion on his own now all he feels is rage. And for what? What’s the reason for all this aggression?

He doesn’t know it’s just pure white hate in his mind and thought and at this point he’s to far gone. He can’t go to anyone for help.

(I honestly don’t know how he’ll get find out maybe by his parents worried why there sun hasn’t left his room or his little brother being curious of where his big bro went or many even Adrien checking up on how is friend is doing)

But I know that with all the other akumtized victims designs they’re body horror will go crazy and more and more of Marinette and Adrian’s classmates will going missing after their akumatized moments and the rest of the class plus the school PLUS everyone in Paris will be paranoid and making conspiracy theories on where they went and who’ll be next as tension rises in Paris (which ironically lead to more akumas) while even more pressure lies on Ladybug and chat noirs shoulders and the citizens of Paris are now aggressive towards them wondering what happened to their kids/loved ones and why is this happening.

Either way I’m gonna end it here I wanna hear your thought and ideas and expand further on this becuase I think it’ll be really fun to talk about it might even turn into the apocalypse they also went to china and New York. Sorry if there’s misspelling or bad grammar and I made all of this in a rush but hopefully you all like this idea! I don’t really know what to call this au other than infected MLB au so please interact/talk to me so we can all have fun and expand this AU further !

♥️

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[starrynightarchive]

you know what's so disappointing? the way people keep saying 'don't be afraid to portray mental illness and disability in media!! in your art and writing!!! normalise it and don't shun it!!!' and then the MOMENT you bring up a symptom that's too messy and uncomfortable to handle, they take a fuckin u-turn and go "UM no that's bad. like. you're a bad person if you do that. that's weird and it makes me uncomfortable so it's wrong."

here's the thing!!!!!!! it's not convenient!!!!! it's not simple!!!! i can't be honest and keep writing about how depression paints your whole world blue and all that shit!!!!!! because guess what!!!! depression and disabilities and borderline personality disorder and SO many other things are just. not neat and clean or easily consumable. they WILL make you uncomfortable and sad. they WILL make you feel bad. honesty is not easy. it's not meant to be.

and dehumanisation of sociopaths and psychopaths is genuinely distressing. not all of them!!! are!!!! bad people!!! it's a medical condition!!!! a mental illness!!! a person's illness doesn't make them bad. their actions and the decisions they take decide that and I am SO sick and tired of people watering down every complex human trait and toxic behaviour as good and bad and right and wrong. don't you see!!! some things are simply just. human. that's all. people fuck up. badly, sometimes. but that doesn't mean they are not people. I'm not saying you should forgive everyone and become a full time saint. you are entitled to your anger. i'm just asking you: don't take away a person's right to err and still be considered human. not all actions fall in the neat divisions of right and wrong. some things just are. grow some balls if you want to see true suffering in media. because it is Not easy or pretty. not even close. you will be conflicted and uncomfortable and troubled. make peace with that fact.

[deer-fic-fics]

Getting a horrible infection when Dr. Harper (especially yandere Dr. Harper) impulsively mixes their cum into the saline solution they’re using to give you a breast or dick augmentation

[bunnyboy-juice]

shhhhh

[opens-up-4-nobody]

hypothetical struggle between Christianity and paganism in bbc merlin? 👀 one that's very neurodivergent? 👀 do tell

Okay, so Athurian times take place in the early dark ages. Which was probably a weird time for religion in Britain. Because the Roman occupation had just come to an end, leaving behind the structure of catholicism at least with those in positions of power. But religious beliefs were still in the process of blending together with the local practices and other religions, leading to some odd gnostic beliefs. Obviously, bbc merlin doesn't talk about Christianity within Camelot but I think we can assume the catholic church would have a position at the round table. Presumably, Arthur would grow up instructed in catholic belief, go to mass, and have bishops or whatever advising him. He would rule by Devine right, sanctioned by the pope and magic would be characterized as demonic. And that somehow raises the stakes for me, imaging magical merlin within the walls of a very catholic Camelot.

I just have this image of merlin in the back of a cathedral as Arthur attends mass. Kneeling in this beautiful building, head bowed low as the congregation sings praise to a foreign God in a foreign tongue. A God that would apparently have merlin tied to a stake and burned alive. And merlin choking out his empty prayers, echoing in the verbal praise under the isolation of his nonbelief and magical association. Full of fear and venom.

The hypothetical struggle I imagine is one of catholic enforcement pushed by Arthur's religious advisors and Arthur's morality. Because Arthur is a good person and slaughtering a people on the basis religion is insane. So, what does it mean for Arthur if he stops listening to his advisors and starts accepting magic? He has to contend with a spiritual struggle, not just the secular issues presented in the show. And I would looooooove to watch that. The bending of Arthur's beliefs into something more flexible and less rigidly Christian according to the church of the time

[fairysylveon]

rubbing my temples a little thinking about tim takes

[wishchthumblr]

on todays episode of "mental health issues that could easily be solved by one single thing that i dont have", GET A MICROWAVE!!!

i just know SO many of my eating related issues (not all obviously but a LOT of them) would be solved if this house just had a goddamn microwave

today i ate like... 1/4th of those small frozen pizzas, 1/3rd of a grilled cheese, and 1/3rd bowl of macaroni and meatballs. and yall wanna know why i didnt eat the whole thing of any of them? its cause my stupid adhd ass took too long to eat and the food got cold. and then i Cannot Eat That anymore. so even though i was still hungry i didnt eat the rest of it and just went back to rotting on youtube shorts and being too hungry to do anything and feeling dumb and unproductive and being guilty of making food that i dont eat. just... feeling like a big ol' waste

but the thing is, if i just

✨owned a microwave✨

i could just reheat the motherfucking food and still eat it and not feel like ive wasted that food. ((because since that food is wasted i feel guilty about making it, so i dont make any more food until next meal time, but then i didnt finish that either cause im stupid and eat too slow.))

but we dont have a microwave. only an oven. and yeah maybe i couldve reheated the 3/4th pizza or the grilled cheese in the oven, but then again the oven uses a lot of electricity. and my mom is always complaining that i turn the oven on, forget that its on for a while, and that im wasting electricity. and i was too tired and hungry to deal with that possibility. plus with the oven theres a chance i forget it too long or have it too hot and burn the food and that would just make me feel worse

but we dont have a microwave, because my mom thinks having a microwave leads to "eating more unhealthy foods that you just heat up" instead of "real food". so i didnt reheat any of my food. so i didnt eat it. it got to the point where it got cold and gross so i just threw it in the trash and hope my mom or grandma doesnt notice.

but if i had a microwave, i couldve reheated that food. and i couldve eaten it. ((and yeah, maybe i wouldnt have ate the whole thing, but maybe half at least? that counts right? well it dont really matter if it counts or not cause it didnt happen.))

and then maybe i wouldnt have been feeling like im gonna faint the whole day and maybe i wouldve gotten literally anything done instead of just scrolling on pinterest and youtube shorts for hours and feeling worthless. and maybe if i ate i wouldnt have hurt myself today

but nope. no microwave. it leads to "unhealthy" habits. i guess not eating enough to count as even ONE full meal is healthier since its not "microwave food"

thanks mom

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[butchnavi]

honestly as a neurodivergent person it annoys me more when people say kms over the most insignificant things than when they use my disorder an a quirky expression to be dramatic. they're essentially the same thing to me

[mifunebooty]

I think more of my relationship with my mom just gradually took more and more hold of me even though it always did and i think being home all the time in covid, even though i was already alone on campus, just made me believe in her advice and pushing more and that shit was just fucked

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

something i hate is seeing neurotypical/non-psychotic people be all defensive when they have one (1) unpopular/unconventional interest. they make their whole personality into how quirky they are and then turn around and ignore at best, harass and bully at worst when people like me who are 'crazy' when we engage in those same interests because we somehow manage to 'do it wrong.'

[keebwee]

every week or so i remember that things i experience are not normal and actually thats so funny to me. i go about my life doing these things daily and thinking about them constantly and that is not a normal thing