#I swear everytime i draw the coats they look different

[panicky-pansexual]

IT’S HIS DAY🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

[seiyasabi]

Enceinte

(This is a Yandere Amajiki x Pregnant Female Reader story :)) Please proceed with caution!

TW: Stockholm syndrome!, mentions of abuse! (not you), mentions of dub/noncon! (not you), !mentions of unsafe abortion! (not you), pregnancy!, !!!mentions of a suicide attempt!!!! (not you), captivity!, !lactation kink!, !breast milk drinking!, no sex but NSFW themes!, etc..

I hope you guys like this!) 

Tamaki’s large hand rubs your back soothingly, attempting to alleviate your current backache. He’s taken you on a ‘playdate’ with his friend’s darling, and the four of you are sitting in the jovial blond’s living room. 

“Everytime we see her, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger!” Mirio cheers, “How far along is she now?” He talks about you as if you aren’t there, causing you and your previously unwanted husband to become uncomfortable. The blond is definitely not a Yandere anyone would want; he’s controlling, sadistic, misogynistic, entitled-all things you’re happy that your Amajiki isn’t. It’s just another reason why you gave into him a year ago. 

“Mirio, pl-please don’t talk about (Your Name) like she isn’t here. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” The brawny man’s eyes flash with a dark emotion, causing you to lean in closer to the indigo haired man’s side. His friend scares you, and you can’t help but pray for his darling. The poor girl is always covered with bruises, littered with painful gashes, and just the thought of your friend being hurt by that monster brings a tear to your (colour) eyes. 

“Ah, it seems I forgot. Sorry Ama,” Your husband freezes up with further discomfort at his best friend’s use of your nickname. His blue eyes land on your rigid form, a small smirk on his thin lips, “How far along are you, (Nickname)?”

Your left hand is on your round stomach, your son kicking lightly at your touch, “We’re about seven months! I’m set to give birth in a few months,” A small smile is on your lips at the thought of your future child. Amajiki’s free hand places itself on top of yours, causing you to look up and give him a full on grin. Seeing that he was smiling at you as well, you place your head on his shoulder. He always knows how to make you feel better. 

“See, (Friend’s Name)? This could be us if you weren’t so stubborn,” Your husband interlaces your fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. He knows that his friend’s actions are somewhat triggering, especially because you know the things he’s done. Mirio lets out a wicked laugh, looking at the both of you with cruel eyes, “(Friend Name) here and I were pregnant a few months ago, after a long night of love-making,” Amajiki holds you even tighter, trying to stop your terror-filled shakes, “But someone was selfish. Someone decided to take a handful of pills, and now your mini Tamaki won’t have a friend. But don’t worry,” His large hands grip your friend’s thigh harshly, “We’ll try again. That’s the point of women, eh, Amajiki? Our own personal baby-makers?” 

Your teary eyes find (Friend’s Name)’s, your hand covering your mouth. You hadn’t seen her for a month, and you now know why. You also now know why her hands are covered with mittens, why her throat is wrapped with a shock collar, why she-

Tamaki stands up quickly, his hands gently guiding you onto your swollen feet. He wraps a protective arm around your waist once you’re fully standing, and he starts to guide you to Mirio’s yellow front door, “Ah, I-I think it-it’s time we go home. (Your Name) i-is sleepy, so-”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy! I totally understand. After all, good Darlings get nice privileges, and (Your Name) is one of the best Darlings I’ve ever met. She knows her place,” He stands to his feet, standing a good five inches above your very tall husband, “Come on, (Friend’s Name), let’s walk them out.”

The (Hair colour) girl struggles to her feet, her broken foot in a boot. She hobbles to the door in her house-wife esque frock, drawing a laugh from the sunny man. The sight hurts your heart so bad, that you have to look away. 

Once the other couple reach their front door, Mirio draws a large keyring filled to the brim with different coloured keys from his pocket, before inserting each one into the ten locks present on the painted wood. Once all are unclasped, he holds the door open with a boot clad foot. 

“You two have a good day! I’m sorry for (Friend’s Name)’s behaviour, I’ll be sure to straighten her out once you leave,” You hear her barely muffle a sob, making your lip quiver with your own sobs. Once outside, you hear the door slam shut, and hear a series of locking mechanisms go into place. 

“He’s gotten worse,” You hear Amajiki mutter, which is enough to send you into a breakdown. His muscular arms wrap you in a tight side hug, his own tears dripping onto your (hair/head). 

You cry for your friend and the person she once was. 

He cries at the monster his best friend has become. 

-

Tamaki was right, you ended up taking a nap the moment you got home. 

When you awoke, your back hurts even more than before, along with your milk filled tits. Massaging your sore chest, you sit up with a bit of trouble. At your last appointment, your doctor said your son was a big fella, and cautioned you against doing anything besides resting. This caused the already doting Amajiki to take up every chore and task you have. 

Right now, you can hear and smell him cooking your favourite meal, causing you to stand onto your wobbly feet. With one hand on your tummy and one on your back, you waddle towards your personal chef of a husband.

He’s currently leaning against the grey granite counter across from the stove, and when he sees your form struggling towards him, he rushes into action. Tamaki quickly sweeps you off of your feet, and brings you to your kotatsu couch. Gently placing you onto your preferred spot, he helps you place a few pillows behind you to help give you better back support. 

“Bunny, what are you doing out of bed? You could’ve hurt yourself,” He’s improved on his nervous stutter since you’ve fallen for him, warming your heart completely. 

“I’m sorry, Ama. I woke up with a backache and wanted a massage, but then I got hungry-” He loves listening to you ramble, you’re the most precious person he’s ever known. Especially when you ‘talk’ to your son. Sometimes he’d listen in and hear you coo about the cute outfits you found for him, or how his Daddy is a super cool hero, or how you can’t wait for him to come out so you can pinch his chubby cheeks, or- “Are you even listening?” He glances up, taking in your adorable pout, causing his face to go red. 

“Of course! I’ll give you a backrub after dinner, okay? Then we can take a shower,” You nod, allowing him to hurry to the kitchen to grab your food and utensils. 

He comes back at a lightning fast pace, he uses a few tentacles to juggle the (bowls/plates) along with the (chopstick/spoons/forks), side dishes, and toppings. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I’m sure you and (Son Name) are starving,” Giggling at his overeagerness, you give in to his demand. 

-

“-Is this pressure good? Let me know if it’s not,” Amajiki’s massive hands knead your aching shoulders, and rub down your pained spine. His thumbs massage the area around your ribs, trying to loosen your muscles to allow you to relax. You’re currently shirtless, clad in only your bra and your comfortable joggers.

“Mhm, you always know how to make me feel better, Ama,” He practically preens at your words, smooching the bare skin of your upper back. 

The massage continues, easing the pain in your back. Now, the only thing ailing you is your sore breasts. 

“A-are you okay, Bunny? You tensed up quite a bit,” You turn your head enough for him to see your comforting smile. 

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just, uhm, oh man, this is so embarrassing,” Both of your hands cover your face to hide your flushing cheeks, sending Tamaki into a mini panic attack. 

“What is it? Is the baby giving you trouble? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Seeing his panic, you try to turn to face him, but require his assistance to do so. His clammy hands grip yours as he brings you toward him. 

“No, Tama, it’s nothing serious, it’s just…” You look down in shame, “My, uhm, my breasts hurt,” Your voice trails off at the end, causing your husband not to hear you. 

“Wha-what was that?” Small tears group in your eyes, as your shame overwhelms you. 

“My boobs hurt! Please don’t make fun of me by making me ask again!” Seeing your distress, he quickly brings you into his embrace. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time, I swear! I’ll help you, Bun, there’s no need to cry. Here,” The indigo haired man unclasps your bra, allowing your tits to fall out somewhat harshly. Yelping at the ache, Tamaki tries to soothe you by holding your larger breasts up, alleviating the pain, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” You smooch his forehead, his entire face is bright red, “Please help me, I need you,” Your wet eyes and much larger breasts make your husband look away, trying not to become aroused. 

“Oh-okay,” His warm hands gently squeeze your teats, testing to see if that was enough pressure. A small moan leaves your lips, telling him that what he’s doing is helping. 

His hands knead your sensitive chest in a rhythmic fashion, slowly quelling the pain you were once suffering. 

Just when you fully relaxed, disaster struck. 

Two streams of thick milk spray from your teats, coating the front of his black shirt. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. 

“I’m sorry Ama! I-I didn’t mean to! It just-” Without missing a beat, the indigo haired man suddenly latches on to your nipple. His lips suck vigorously, trying to drink all of your yummy milk in one go. A loud moan leaves your lips, as you try to detach him from your leaking tit, “Wha-what are you doing?” A keen escapes your throat when he tweaks your other nipple, dripping your milk onto your joggers. His own moans vibrate against you, sending a flash of arousal to your pussy. 

Once he has his fill of your right breasts, he lets go with a small gasp, “Do-do you feel better Bun-Bun?” Now that you thought about it, yes, yes you do. So, you nod your head, mouth slightly agape. 

“Please, ‘Jiki! Please milk my other titty too!” He doesn’t say anything, before he latches on to your left nipple. Whilst he sucks, he lets his tongue flick your leaky teat, triggering a little more milk to spray out. You both moan, one of you in absolute lust, and the other in relief. The heavy, aching feeling of your breasts slowly fades away, leaving you feeling light and happy. 

Your hand runs through his soft locks, a sigh of pleasure going through your nose, “Thank you, Ama, you’re so good to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste good-” He quickly releases your left nipple to kiss you on the lips. 

“Your milk is delicious, Bunny. I don’t think I can ever go back to cow’s milk ever again!” He fondles your enlarged chest, playing with your sensitive nipples, “I love you so much, (Your Name). Is it okay if I nurse with our son?”

You flush at his words, “Bu-but my milk’s for (Son’s Name), won’t he go hungry?” He shakes his head no, kissing you on the lips once more. 

“I asked your doctor for breast milk supplements, you’re going to have more milk than he’ll need! Please, Bunny! Please let me have more!” You can’t say no when he asks you so sweetly. Smiling at him, you nod. 

You know you should be upset that those ‘extra vitamins’ weren’t truly vitamins, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, he loves you so much that he wants to drink from you! 

So, when he reattaches himself to your right nipple, you pet him sweetly. 

[slvtbible]

he just wanna say it

summary: harry has a crush on you. like a huge HUGE crush, my dear. and he has no idea how to say it to you

when he saw you walked into his house in Malibu, in a yellow summer dress, he knew he was captivated in that moment. you were holding a gelato in your hand while you share a laugh with your friend. That friend is, Sarah. She invited you to hang out in which he made a note to thank her later for bringing a pretty angel like you.

he was dying to get to know you, wanted to know every little thing about you. Also, he was drawing bunch of horrible scenarios in his head if he finds out you actually had a boyfriend. God, he would be crushed.

turns out—lucky him— you have been single for about a year now. When Sarah encouraged him to start a conversation because she caught him a few times glancing at you. he was nervous and stuttering, he felt his hands turned clammy as he introduced himself to you. you found that adorable to be honest, who knew you got a rockstar wrapped around your fingers.

fast forward three years, Harry’s love for you grows even more. He swears everytime you do something, his heart soars. Especially after knowing you teach kids ballet every Wednesday and Saturday. He thinks you look cute in your ballerina outfit and the way you smile at the little kids. One time you were his date to a charity event, and he swears on his Mother’s life he had never seen someone so gorgeous and sexy—in an elegant way— dressed in a midnight blue dress. God really did take His time with you. He knows it.

but after all that, he never found the courage to confess his love for you. All the 33 love letters , 25 love poems, 36 songs written about you, 17 mixtapes, 41 photographs of your candids are kept in a box. His secret crush on you is hidden inside that 152 art that he did. He doesn’t know how to say it, damn it he doesn’t. he never encountered a hard time while telling a girl he loves them but why the hell is it hard for him to say it to you? what’s the difference?

the answer is simple. because it’s you. you what makes it different

“you look so adorable with your hair like that... all fluffy and stuff” you giggle, messing with his hair for a bit before pulling your hand back. “don’t ever cut it”

“I won’t I promise” he smiles at you, admiring how beautiful you look today. In a simple black cami top and denim shorts, topped with black doc martens. You look like a pretty angel that comes straight out of 70s music video

the two of you decided to hang out for today, LA is quite nice and so he took you to a secret place where nobody could find both of you. you hate crowds as much as he is. he just wants it to be normal.

“anyway” you exhale reaching for the strawberry before taking a bite. “this strawberry is the best strawberry I’ve ever had. Good job” you wink at him, before dipping the fresh fruit in the chocolate dip.

he shrugs, looking out to the view before settling his eyes back at you. “i know you would like them. been eating these for a while now. tastes like heaven. Might take a few to New York next month.”

humming in response, you take off your sunglasses and setting them down on the basket. “Speaking of New York. You’re excited about your performance?”

he nods. Of course he does. He always is excited. Meeting new people, new fans, strumming his guitar. He loves it. Especially the adrenaline of the crowd.

“Very. Too bad you can’t come, love. Would love it if you were there” he smiles softly at you, fiddling with his fingers before he reaches out to wipe a strawberry juice from the corner of your mouth,

you give him a small pout. you really really want to be there but there’s alot of responsibilities you need to carry here. especially being a college student. “I’m sorry, puddin. i have exams and i know Dorothy won’t allow me to missed out a few days on ballet class before next month. I’m sure you’ll do great, yeah? you always do.”

that reassurance is enough to make him smile and blush softly. you always have faith in him, and his heart puffs out in pride because of that. Also, the way you call him ‘puddin’ and only him, his heart melted.

“we can do something right after you came back.” you reassure him again, then your eyes lights up and sits up straight causing the strap of your black tank top falls down a bit. “Doja Cat is performing next month! We should go! I can buy us tickets”

harry rolls his eyes playfully and grin while trying hard not to look at her bare shoulder. “I’m Harry Styles, angel. I can get them for free” he says, not in a cocky manner but more of jokingly. he’s far too good to be an asshole,

you can only scoff, giggling after as you slap his arm. “yea yeah. whatever rockstar.”

he giggles cutely at your response, looking down as he plays with the hem of his old Rolling Stones t-shirt that he sometimes lend it to you too,

“Mom said she misses you, you know?” He says, changing the subject while you sip on the tasty lemonade he made you. “told me you’re the only girl she’s ever liked being around. i said to her I’ll take you to my hometown if you’re not too busy anymore.” he informs, laughing nervously.

it’s silence after that which confuses him, so he cranes his neck and stare back at you. who has a cute smile on your face which he absolutely adore while biting down your pink coated lip,

“What?” He asks clearly confuse why she pulls that face,

tilting your head to the side, your smile grows even more. “have you been talking to your mama about me?”

then it hits him, he may accidentally confesses a small thing he shouldn’t have. his cheeks reddened in an instant as he turns back around and look down to hide his shy smile. “No...” he says in a cute small voice, like a little kid who just got caught taking a cookie out of the jar before lunch,

seeing him being so adorable truly melts your heart. Harry Styles, the Harry Styles has been talking about you to his mom. perhaps a crush? or about how a good friend you have always been to him? yet judging by the look on his face, the last accusation couldn’t be true. still you don’t wanna jump into conclusion.

after seeing him blush and still hasn’t died down, you reach over to him and give a small kiss on his cheek which causes his eyes to widen and blushes deeper making you laugh,

oh Harry, you truly are a gem

and he really really just wanna say it

*

i was bored and wrote this. but I personally think it was cute despite being too short lol, part 2?

[the-wintershade]

01. these are the days that must happen to you

pairing: loki x reader summary: you knock on his door bloody and nearly unconscious wc: 1.2k+ genre: angst, comfort

a/n: this is the first part in a series of angsty works written about lots of different characters because I needed the emotional breakdown and healing. I’ve also been watching a lot of emotionally moving things.

edit: I deleted my blog! accidentally! so this is the first thing I am going to publish after losing everything, so bear with me. also, if you see this and you used to follow me, please know the blip was accidental. feel free to reblog so that people can know that I didn’t just fall off the face of the earth! this series will still be uploaded and finished, it will just take a minute to reupload things so...i’m working on it though!

swear not by the moon  — a series of angst: 01 | ... |

Loki expected the knock at the door over an hour ago. His blood boiled and his jaw ached from the strain of his teeth nearly shattering each other after waiting patiently for the room service he’d wasted a measly fifty dollars on. 

It wasn’t worth it. He was more than aware that the morsels they offered on earth would never even hold a candle to the exquisite, luxurious food that would’ve been served at the hall of the gods. 

He felt that dull ache again and paused on the way to throwing the door open.

It made him feel weak and useless, like he was nothing more than a spectator in the chaos in asgard; the throne ripped from under him, his brother the shining star of his father’s love, and him banished to the shadows where greed and jealousy festered, always envious of the brilliant, illustrious light.

It ripped him down to the core, stripped him to his weakest parts, and he hated it. Anger always flared to take its place, hot and searing. 

He harnessed it, shaking off something he refused to acknowledge as guilt, and hurled the door open, his knuckle alabaster white and eyebrows arched in vexation...and there you were.

Blood coated your cheeks, vermillion spilling out of the gash on your upper arm, red stained your hands. He watched your chest shutter, your breath coming out in pained hiccups and strained gaps, your eyes were unfocused. “I...I’m sorry. I-I didn’t...know...where-else to go.” His heart squoze hearing the words whispered out loud and the anger he was ready to unleash faded away as your voice fell onto him like flower petals floating through the air.

You were delicate and fragile and innocent. So innocent and beautiful. And to see such a precious thing as defaced as the crimson that stained your clothes and clung to your hair, well...he barely contained a new surge of anger that threatened to take over.

He stepped over to you, about ready to pull you in and when you collapsed, falling right into his dark turtleneck. Gravity would have dragged you to the floor, but Loki was stronger and grasped your arms, supporting your weight and lifting you to his bathroom. 

He tried to be as gentle as possible when cleaning your cuts, but each were so deep, he knew you felt them even when he used a towel and pressed with a precise touch. Just enough to draw out the blood and clean them, but nothing else. 

His fingers gingerly supported your neck, pressing against your skin, drawing you against his chest, your body sprawled between his knees.

Everytime he hit a cut and you moaned in pain, his heart hurt again, just as bad as if he watched his mother frown in disappointment. He hated when he severely upset her, just as he hated what they did to you. 

“Hold on,” the back of his hand brushed against your cheek, caressing your tears and letting them run over his fingers, cleansing you of the wet signs of anguish and letting his fingers become damp with salt and iron. With tears and blood. “Just hold on, dove, it’s almost over.”

….

When you woke up, the remnants of a dream followed you into consciousness. His voice was there, guiding you through a maze you couldn’t find the end to. For some reason you were panicking, scared beyond your wits and barely able to think straight, so unlike you. 

You were always strong. That’s who you were. Tough as steel and unrelenting as stone and rock. You were the one everyone counted on to get what needed to be done, done. 

And now you were lost.

Now you were stripped bare. Down to everything about you that you wanted to eradicate, destroy, banish. And he just watched with nothing but kindness and a cool head, taking your cold hand and enveloping it in his warm one. 

He knew the way. He always knew the way.

You sat up, groaning as your flesh tugged and shifted against the heavy bandages and the healing webs forming around your skin. 

You felt clean. 

The clothes you wore were not your own and gave space around your body insteading of clinging to your cuts and wounds.

And then you heard his voice. 

Raspy and tired, but still carrying that velvety perfectness it always did. “‘Morning.” He rolled over until he faced you. A softness you’ve rarely seen in him clouds his eyes and twists around his words, smoothing them as if he’s afraid you’ll collapse if he speaks normally. “How are you feeling?”

You fiddle with the too big sleeves on your-his shirt and feel even weaker than you did the night before. “I’m fine.” You spit out, frustrated and upset with yourself. You toss the covers off of yourself and try to stand, but your legs wobble and you fall back onto the bed.

Tears threaten to fall and you force a hand to your face to your face to collect them. Your lungs shrivel and shake as pain stops your breathing and makes an unnatural sound seep through your cracked lips and twisted teeth.

And he’s there, holding your hands whispering soothing words in your ear and it’s too much. It’s too much. You want to break away from him and tell him to stop treating you like you’re going to break and shatter. “Stop,” Your voice breaks and shrieks silently. “Just stop.”

He removes his hands but he doesn’t move away. “When will you stop trying to be tough around me all the time?” He mutters. Your tears clear out of surprise and when you look at him there’s no sympathy, no warm gleam in his deep bluish-green orbs. 

All that lies there is longing. An intense longing for the truth.

“We’re both the same. Running from our vulnerabilities and emotional weaknesses because we have no idea how to deal with them. We don’t know how to handle sympathy, we don’t want to look weak, we don’t want to feel as though we’re breaking.” His fingers float on top of your hand, weaving into your nearly closed hand. “But we’re fragile. We act strong but we break sometimes. You’ve seen me sobbing. Crying so damned hard that I nearly choked on my own saliva, but you know what? You were there. You were there to put me back together again and I hated you for it. But you wouldn’t let me push you away.”

He gently opens your hand and puts his in it, pulling your palm up to his lips and planting a whisper of a kiss on it. “So don’t push me away. Let me be here for you.” He gazes up at you, pleading and earnest. “Let me help you.”

And that makes you want to cry again because you’re not used to someone just showing up for you and supporting you. You’re not used to someone supporting you when you’re down and not judging you for what you’re reduced to.

When the tears come again, you're wrapped up in him, in his warmth, his chest, his smell, him. And he doesn’t let you go, just keeps you close and holds you. 

He knows that words aren’t enough to soothe you, they never mattered that much to you anyway, but the silence, the comfort in the quiet as you put yourself back together again, helps.

And he keeps you close and steadies you, even when you feel him shaking in frustration, even when you feel him sink underneath the weight of your pain. Because he’s always there to share the burden, just as you’ve always been there to share his.