#is that at night when the conditions are right

[fear-is-truth]

# BEING BRUCE WAYNE’S ❝SUGAR BABY❞ AND FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM — HCs

warnings — slowburn. brief mentions of sex synopsis — being a broke college student that caught the attention of none other than bruce wayne a/n — this is the fluffy slowburn sfw version… the 18+ one is still in the works

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

it started when you were a broke college student in your early twenties, juggling classes, part-time jobs, and an unrelenting mountain of bills. bruce wayne, freshly thirty, was already a household name—gotham’s elusive billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.

you first crossed paths at a charity gala, where you were working as a server, weaving through the crowd with a tray of champagne flutes. you’d only seen bruce wayne in tabloids before, so when you caught him leaning against a marble pillar, watching you, you simply froze.

“you seem a little… distracted,” his eyes flicked to the tray you balanced expertly. “nervous, or just tired of all this nonsense?” you gave him a polite, slightly weary smile. “neither. just trying to get through the night without spilling on anyone important. still got a paper to finish.”

his lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t press further. at the end of the night, though, you found an obscene tip tucked beneath his empty glass—crisp hundred bills folded neatly, more money than you’d made all week.

weeks later, he appeared again—this time at a hole-in-the-wall café near campus where you worked part-time. it wasn’t his scene; he stuck out like a sore thumb in his tailored black coat, looking utterly out of place among the students.

he didn’t say much that first visit, just ordered black coffee and left another ridiculous tip. but he came back. again and again. sometimes he’d stay long enough for a brief conversation, other times he’d sit quietly in a corner, newspaper in hand. it wasn’t just the tips that stuck to you—it was the way he listened. bruce never made you feel small or dismissed your struggles, like so many others did.

when he first offered to help you financially, he did it with tact that left you room to preserve your pride. “you’re working too hard,” he said one evening. “let me take some of the weight off—just until things settle. consider it an investment in your future.” there was a sincerity in his voice that made it sound like a practical solution rather than a handout.

accepting his help wasn’t easy. you’d been so accustomed to clawing your way through life that the idea of someone else shouldering your burden felt unnatural. after days of hesitation, you finally agreed—but only on the condition that you’d pay him back one day. bruce had only nodded, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk, like he knew you never would.

he never made you feel indebted, though. if anything, he treated it like helping you was a privilege.

when your ancient car finally gave up, bruce didn’t even wait for you to ask for help. within the week, a sleek, brand-new model was delivered to your apartment, the keys tucked into an envelope with a simple note: you need something reliable. you tried to thank him, but he just waved it off. “just focus on getting where you need to go.”

your decrepit laptop, with its constant crashing and refusal to load anything on time, was next. one day, you came home to find a pristine, state-of-the-art model sitting on your desk, already set up and ready to use. you didn’t even have to ask.

bruce never demanded anything in return. the closest he came to asking for favours were the occasional lunches or dinners where he’d pick your brain about your studies, your ambitions, your dreams. he always seemed genuinely interested, never letting the conversation veer into anything too personal unless you led it there.

you realized over time that it wasn’t just the money, the gifts, or even the way he treated you like an equal—it was the steady presence he provided. bruce wasn’t there to fix your life or control it; he just wanted to make it a little easier. and somehow, that made all the difference.

when you stayed up late working on papers, bruce would sometimes settle on the couch nearby, a novel in his hands. he never intruded, but his quiet presence was a reminder that you weren’t alone. on particularly rough nights, he’d bring you a cup of tea without saying a word, setting it gently beside you before returning to his book.

on your birthday, he surprised you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers—something you’d mentioned in passing months ago—and a beautifully wrapped box containing a classic hermès birkin. the card attached to it read simply, “something to carry all those books in.”

his gifts were always thoughtful, never ostentatious in a way that would make you feel uneasy. designer coats, shoes, and bags—each impeccably tailored to your taste, yet discreet. the labels were always tucked away, hidden in folds and linings. they were things you could wear without being worried you’d get mugged. nothing about them screamed, “i have a sugar daddy.”

bruce never tried to “buy” your affection. you didn’t owe him anything—not in the transactional way most would expect. he just wanted to see you comfortable, to help you in ways that went beyond financial support. and, over time, you realized you cared for him too—not for what he could give you, but for who he was.

he had an uncanny ability to remember the smallest details about you. the way you took your coffee. the name of the professor whose lectures you dreaded. how the sound of rain on a window always calmed you. those little moments of attentiveness.

at first, bruce kept you at arm’s length emotionally, cautious about pulling you deeper into his complicated world. but as the months went by, as your late-night talks stretched into early mornings, it became clear that bruce didn’t see this as a favour or an obligation. he cared for you in a way that went far beyond surface-level kindness.

when you went through a bad breakup, he didn’t try to fix it or console you with empty platitudes. instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest.

it wasn’t long before the line between benefactor and friend blurred entirely. he was no longer just footing your bills or buying you thoughtful gifts—bruce got greedy. he didn’t just want to take care of you financially; he wanted all of you.

one night, you were venting about your professors, frustration pouring out in a messy jumble of words. bruce listened intently, brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, giving you his undivided attention.

“you’re too nice to me,” you blurted, the words slipping out like a spew of vomit. before doubt could creep in, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was a kiss that changed everything—as you half expected him to gently push you away, his hand came up to cradle your face, deepening it.

the kiss led to one thing, then another, and before you knew it, you were tangled together in his sheets, lost in his kisses, his touch, his quiet attention to your every reaction. bruce wasn’t just passionate; he was thorough in a way that unraveled you completely—it was hands down the best sex you’d ever had.

when you woke up the next morning, still tangled in his arms, a wave of uncertainty hit you. maybe it was nerves or overthinking, but you couldn’t stop wondering if you’d crossed a line you shouldn’t have. sensing your unease, bruce kissed your shoulder, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “i hope you know this changes nothing… we’re fine.”

and just like that, you became his official “sugar baby.” not that the dynamic between you two changed drastically—it simply gave bruce an excuse to really spoil you.

he started sending you to your favourite spa on weekends, claiming you deserved a break from all the stress. when you protested that it was too much, he just shrugged. “self-care is important,” he said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

your closet, which had been a collection of fast fashion and thrifted pieces, was slowly replaced with the row, max mara, burberry, and dior.

your jewelry collection grew as well. delicate van cleef & arpels bracelets, tiffany & co. pendants, and diamond-stud earrings from cartier found their way into your life. he gifted you a dainty rolex, understated yet stunning, with a cheeky note: “don’t be late to class.”

despite all of this, bruce was careful to ensure it never looked like you were “living large.” you stayed in your same modest apartment, though it was clear his influence was woven into the details: a state-of-the-art security system, upgrades to your furniture and appliances that made life a little easier.

dinners became a regular occurrence, whether it was a reservation at gotham’s most exclusive restaurant or an extravagant meal in his penthouse.

when you graduated, bruce was there, blending into the crowd in a simple black coat, inconspicuous among the sea of families and friends. you didn’t spot him at first—he wasn’t the type to draw attention when he didn’t want to—but when your eyes finally landed on his, he gave you the smallest of nods. after the ceremony, he approached you quietly, slipping a small velvet box into your hand. you opened it to reveal a key.

“what’s this for?” you asked, already overwhelmed, fingers trembling slightly. “your new apartment,” he replied simply. then, after a pause, “unless… you’d rather move in with me.”

from then on, everything changed. bruce wasn’t just your benefactor; he was your best friend, your confidant, and eventually, your lover.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Hi!!! If you're still taking requests, can you do a bodyguard headcanon for the LADS boys pls and thanks 🙏

After talking to @ballorawan740 a little more, an extra detail added for the request was that MC was hired as a bodyguard for a young girl by their family. So I made all the men single dads for this HC. IDK who had they this child with or how it happened, just go with it.

Hey Miss Bodyguard...

Zayne:

He's a rich, famous, doctor stretched thin. He hadn't expected being a single dad would be this challenging. Being the youngest person to win the Starcatcher award was no small feat after all.

His fear stems from his refusal to work with Ever. He's terrified that they'll take his daughter as leverage.

He holds interviews of course, because how else can he find the best person to keep his little girl safe? When you walk in, he feels a connection that was absent with the other candidates. You got along easily with his child, and it was obvious that you cared for her more than beyond seeing her as a paycheck.

He keeps things professional and beyond offering you a drop home at night or sometimes bringing takeout, he mostly keeps to himself, but he's drawn to the way you spend time with his daughter. He sees how happy she is around you, and he's confident in your abilities to keep her safe.

It's his daughter that points out he likes you. "Miss...I think my daddy like you!" she'll say matter-of-factly while she gets her shoes on for school. Zayne nearly chokes on his coffee, his ears turning red as you stifle a laugh behind your hands, ushering her out the door. Later that day, Zayne calls asking if it would be all right if he asked you to dinner. You accept of course, because how could anyone resist the stoic, handsome, doctor with the cute daughter?

Sylus:

Sylus has a never-ending list of reasons as to why he needed a bodyguard for his daughter. He was the leader of an organized crime group after all, and there were several people who would gladly claim his head on a platter.

He tried to entrust Luke and Kieran but after an almost near accident at a gun range he decided maybe they weren't the best choice.

His daughter is suspicious of you when Sylus hires you. You simply looked out of place in the N109 zone and part of her didn't feel like you were 'one of them'. She would constantly complain to Mephisto and insist uncle Luke and uncle Kieran weren't that bad, and that they were sorry about the gun range incident.

You finally gain her trust when you teach her how to shoot soda cans with your hunter's gun. She's impressed and says you're not a bad shot, the highest compliment she could think of.

She expresses her approval to her dad and says to him, "daddy, she can outshoot you. You should shoot guns together." Sylus who is tossing a salad for their meal glances at you thoughtfully just as you're about to walk out the door. "Is that so? Well, what does our bodyguard think?" You'll freeze for a minute and retort that you had to think about it and leave. Sylus smiles reassuringly at his daughter. "That's a yes."

Xavier:

Xavier decides to ask you to be his daughter's bodyguard after finding out there are traitors amongst the Backtrackers. Their anger at him for deciding to stay in this timeline with his daughter knew no bounds. He feared they would kidnap her and attempt to fly back to dying Philos. They'd never make it, he knew, given the condition of their spaceship. His bigger concern was them getting stuck in the deepspace tunnel with no way to find their coordinates.

Xavier's daughter has an easy relationship with you. She's seen you around the building before and you always have candy ready for her sweet tooth. If Xavier was too busy to give her attention, then down the elevator she came to knock on your door.

On multiple occasions Xavier has come down to retrieve his daughter from you, reminding her that it's not ok to visit when you were off duty. This upsets her and she looks at you teary-eyed and you insist that she's not a bother.

At this point his daughter bursts out loudly, "Daddy, I'm always either at our place or hers. Miss should just move in with you so that I don't have to come downstairs anymore!" Both you and Xavier laugh awkwardly, both of you blushing before bidding each other good night.

But after Xavier has put his daughter to bed, he considers the idea. It seemed practical, but he knew you'd never go for it. So instead he asks you if you'd be interested in joining him for hot pot one of these days.

Rafayel:

Rafayel somehow believes that because you are his bodyguard, it means you are his daughter's too. Even after you told him it would cost double since you're trying to protect two people he shrugs it off and asks Thomas to write you a check for more.

The young girl is similar to her dad and has an artistic flair, painting breathtaking landscapes and adorable little cartoons alike. She often watches you chastising her dad for not following rules and not being safe enough and senses there's more there.

She can't help but notice that some of her dad's portraits feature people with features similar to yours; the same nose, the shape of your eyes, or the fullness of your lips. When she points this out Rafayel shakes his head in denial.

Determined to be right, she pulls you into his studio where all the portraits are kept while he's out one day. You do see the resemblance but try to console the girl that artists can find inspiration from anywhere, and it might not be as simple as him having feelings for you. Of course, she pouts (so much like her dad!) and that's when Rafayel walks in.

You ask him to correct his daughter, that your relationship is strictly professional. Rafayel sighs dramatically, then says, "Yeah, it's professional. But only because I can't get her to change her mind." His daughter smirks in triumph and you leave the room blushing, wondering how you got tangled up with this family.

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura

[thelov3lybookworm]

Ice Cream (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: what is this new flavour in the air? mint chocolate of course. not love...right?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1935

Warnings: literally just fluff. azzie being a shy baby 🥹hes literally so adorable omg i love him 😭

A/n: YAYYY ITS FINALLY HEREEEE🥳🥳🥳 im going to be posting one more part, most likely on friday, in which these babies finally get together and ic finds out 🥹

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

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Y/n had known the male who bothered her day and night and almost everyday at the bookstore was the spymaster. The shadows gave him away before his dark, mysterious and broody nature could. But she had to wonder.

Was she mistaken?

For surely, no spymaster would be so clumsy and talk to the point of oversharing?

After Y/n had reluctantly let herself believe that this was not some cruel joke the spymaster was centering around her disappointment as the punchline, she had gotten dressed up in one of her better dresses, but tried to make it not overly fancy so as not to seem like she was trying to impress him.

As she had watched the sun descend closer to the horizon, she almost ditched the idea of him ever coming to meet her, and had just grabbed a book to read quietly by the fireplace when the knock on the door made her freeze. Her head had snapped to the door, her disappointment morphing into quiet anticipation. She had turned and set her book down, moving in quick steps towards the door, her light purple skirt swishing around her ankles.

He had been panting when she finally opened the door, a wide, shy smile on his face.

It almost made Y/n give him a wide smile of her own. But she had tamped the urge down and stepped out onto the apartment landing, with only a slight tilt to her lips in greeting, and turned away from him to lock the door of her small apartment. In hindsight, she had felt slightly insecure, wondering what he would be thinking of her, considering he most likely lived in the house of wind that stood proudly over the city like a soldier standing guard.

The entire building her apartment was a part of looked like a pebble in the face of that cliff.

It was an effort not to apologise to him for her living conditions. By no means was she struggling to get by, and her apartment was something many could only dream of, but it wasn’t the most lavish, either.

Azriel had spoken up and distracted her before she could beat herself up over the fact that he had seen her home, something so vulnerable and private, and guided her down and out, into the fading golden light that made Y/n feel ten times prettier.

After that, everything had gone pretty well, almost too well. It almost began concerning her when Azriel didn’t make any comments about things she was not comfortable talking to him about yet, as most men seemed only to be interested in taking her to bed for just one night.

But there was one thing that did concern her. The way he seemed to be physically unable to shut his mouth. It made her wonder, did he always talk this much? If yes, how the hell is he a spymaster if he keeps spilling secrets?

"-And then Cassian threw up all over me, and I had to scrub myself raw because I was so disgusted. I didn’t talk to him for a week." Azriel laughed, the faelights lighting up the air between him and Y/n in an attempt to make this more romantic and intimate glinting off his eyes. They were sitting in a diner, not too fancy, just the perfect amount of flashy and comforting.

Y/n tilted her head, lips twitching. When she spoke, it was not too hard to speak in her normal soft, quiet voice, considering she was in the presence of someone considered a predator. "Bet he felt so much guilt."

He nodded, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward, glancing down at his empty plate stained lightly with the leftovers of their dinner. "He wouldn’t stop apologising, and I felt bad for ignoring him. Eventually, I agreed to talk to him again if he promised to sit far from me the next time he drank so much."

Y/n huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, trying to imagine the scene he described. Silence surrounded the two for a long moment, letting her mind wander, before he pulled her attention back to himself.

Gentle in his voice, but commanding her every thought to himself as effortlessly as he did those shadows.

Or maybe not, because it seemed they were set on ignoring him. They kept reaching out to play with her hair, her fingers, the sleeves of her loose white shirt every time his attention left them. He blushed hard every time, apologising constantly.

At this point, Y/n couldn’t help but think if he’d apologised more than he’d spoken anything else.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Y/n straightened, nodding. She grabbed her purse, following him to the exit, where he had already paid before she could catch up. At her glare, he simply flashed her an innocent smile.

"You didn’t have to pay for me."

He shrugged, watching intently as Y/n pulled her jacket closer to herself before shyly extending his arm for her to hold. Y/n only contemplated for a minute, taking note of the blush on his face darkening under flashes of light from shops down the road, before slipping her palm through his elbow.

He continued talking, telling her of how he’d been to this shop-and oh! Cassian had the biggest infatuation with that lady looking after that shop.

The shadows continued to sneak up to her, twining with her hair and caressing her back lightly like some sort of a protective lover. They even floated by towards the hand she wasn’t holding Azriel’s arm with and slithered in between the fingers, their touch light and barely tangible, but still very much there.

Azriel slowed down while she glanced down at the shadow climbing up and under her sleeve, looking at a nearby shop. "Have you ever tried ice-cream?"

It was a treat that had recently become popular from summer court and spread like wildfire throughout prythian. With good reason too.

Y/n followed his gaze to a pink coloured shop with striped red and white interior. The seats inside were over exaggerated blue and purple colour and entirely too large to be anything but for attracting people.

She nodded. "A couple of times."

He fumbled for a moment before clearing his throat. "Would you be interested-"

"Yes."

She had already begun walking towards the shop, carefully manoeuvring so as not to bump into anyone. Azriel hurried to keep pace, and Y/n smiled to herself, turning her head away from him to make sure he didn’t see it.

"Which flavour would you like?" He questioned once the two were inside, gaze fixed on the plethora of flavours displayed under the glass case. Y/n did not even have to consider after she saw her favourite flavour.

"Mint chocolate."

He blinked, lifting his head to look at her in surprise. "You like mint?"

Y/n gave him an unamused look. "What, are you going to lecture me about how it tastes disgusting?"

His cheeks darkened and he shook his head, hurriedly proceeding to explain. "No- no, I was just curious. I’ve never tried it, but Rhysand once said it tastes weird, so I was surprised you liked it-" he took a deep breath, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Y/n’s lips quirked to the side. "Your high lord doesn’t have very good taste then."

Azriel only huffed, contrary to what Y/n expected, and gave their orders to the worker who stood behind the counter. Y/n only watched him, her eyes following his every move as he talked and took the treats from the worker, as he turned, his gaze instantly searching for her and meeting hers as she stood against a far wall.

Even his eyes seemed to smile as he made his way over to hand her the mint chocolate.

To make conversation- and also to make some effort herself, seeing as he had been trying to keep her engaged and entertained the whole evening- Y/n curiously peeked at his hand. "What did you get?"

He smiled. "Chocolate."

Y/n hummed, picking up her spoon and scooping up a small amount of ice cream into her mouth, relishing the sweetness before turning back to him and extending her cup towards him.

"You can try if you want."

He coughed, choking on his ice cream before shaking his head so vigorously to the point Y/n was concerned he’d sprain his neck. "No no, it’s alright."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, bored, until he reluctantly dipped his spoon into her cup and tasted the divine gift from god that was mint chocolate. His eyebrows rose imperceptibly, and he glanced down at his spoon before looking at Y/n.

"It’s good."

She shrugged. "I know. I don’t get why some people don’t like it. I guess they just hate good things."

"I might just get obsessed with it." He laughed under his breath before shoving another spoonful of his own ice cream into his mouth. She offered to share their ice creams, and he refused at first but after seeing that she really was serious, he agreed. The two ate in silence, staring out of the glass floor to ceiling window, letting quiet settle between them.

His presence was calming, comforting as no one else’s was. Y/n felt safe, like the world could be going into destruction but their little corner in this ice cream shop, with him, would be protected. It made Y/n question if she was thinking too much with her heart.

Feeling his gaze on her, Y/n glanced at Azriel twice, but each time, he was looking elsewhere.

It made her cheeks heat for reasons she couldn’t figure out.

Too soon, the sweet treat was finished, and it was time to part ways. Despite that, as Y/n and Azriel stood in front of her apartment after he had walked her home, she did not want to leave. It was so unlike her, so foreign to feel that way, but she, surprisingly, loved it.

But maybe unfamiliar things are good for you, or however those sayings go.

Azriel’s head was bowed as he toed at the grey stones of the pathway, his neck and ears flushed. He refused to look into her eyes for more than a moment, so shy Y/n wondered if she was playing the intimidating and brooding bookstore owner role too well.

Finally, after she couldn’t handle the silence and his nervous neck scratches anymore, she spoke.

"So, same time tomorrow?" He looked up, wide eyed. She scoffed.  "What? I didn’t think you told me all about your ancestry and your family’s personal lives just to have ice cream with me for one day. Did you?"

He cleared his throat. "Are you sure?"

Y/n raised a brow, trying her best to not let her lips lift in a smile. "Well, are you?"

He nodded quickly, something like hope beginning to glow in his hazel eyes.

They’re pretty, Y/n thought to herself.

She turned away, before pausing and looking at him again. His smile remained unwavering the longer she stared at him.

But the smile did vanish once she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently against his cheek. She smirked to herself, proud of her accomplishments, and then left him standing in the snow.

She couldn’t wait to have more ice cream with him.

She was almost… excited, to see where this path would lead to.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[vxlenst3in]

Been thinking about Zayne with a heavy roleplay kink lately. That poor man works day and night, comes home all tense and exhausted, so why not spoil him a little?

I believe he enjoys both the doctor - nurse, and the doctor and patient roleplay — especially in which you’re the doctor of course. But tonight, he was in such bad condition, he desperately needed a doctor to throughly examine him. A doctor to examine him from head to toe, and leave absolutely no place untouched - you never know after all.

So when you stand in front of him, dressed in his huge doctor coat, he couldn’t help but pop a boner. At least his blood flow was working just fine, right?

Meanwhile, he was shirtless, just as you ordered. 'For better examination results' You claimed, and well, Zayne just went along. It didn’t take long before warm hands slid along his freezing cold skin. He hissed at the feeling of your hands desperately looking for his pulse point. His pulse was terribly high right now, and you’d notice once you found it.

Not long passed before your hands found their way down his chest. Now pulling and twisting his nipples.

“Oh doctor- Is that really necessary for the results?”

“It has one of the highest priorities.”

Zayne could only press himself back in his chair, as he swallowed groans and moans. Every touch lingered on his skin, it felt like a fire constantly heating up a specific spot on his skin.

When you made your way to his abdomen, it was probably the easiest part of the journey. Your fingers delicately traced his abs. He watched you press down on some spots, like you were actually trying to check him for anything. Now, in less than 20 seconds, that thought was long forgotten, when you pressed down on his clothed bulge. The length in his pants just twitched in response. “Running a fever, I see." You replied as you looked up at his flushed face, before lowering your gaze again.

“Oh Sir, I don’t believe that having an erection in front of your doctor is quite…the norm.”

“I don’t believe that a doctor drooling over a patient’s erection is quite professional, what do you think?” The brunette teased back, before placing his hand on top of yours. “I believe you examined me throughly enough. It’s time for you to cure me.”

[strwbrychffncake]

"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

-

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

-

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

-

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

-

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

It all led to this moment. You gave him your everything, and it still wasn't enough. He lied to you for months and kept his intentions from you for so long. You were never to trust him or anyone, again. First, it was your father. He sold you to the heroes for their horrid experiments. You were sure the people behind it were called the "hero committee," but that was an estimated guess, of course. When you were in the program, you were kept in the dark. You were isolated from the others, you had no one, and you were a nobody. Your number had been 62. You only received a sort of name when you were taken into the Liberation front. Or the LoV, as they used to be called.

That's where you met him: Hawks. There was something about him you felt drawn towards. Perhaps it was his golden eyes or his ruby red wings. Maybe it was his personality. He had a way of pinning you to your seat with a look, yet lulling you into a sense of comfort with his smile. You could tell there was more to him than what he was leading on. It didn't take long for you both to talk. Talking turned into something deeper. You didn't know what to call it. You spent so long under the thumb of the heroes that until you were able to escape, your skills in basic interactions were slim to none. Hawks taught you things. He didn't call you a number. He gave you pretty nicknames that made your stomach flip. His soft touches were so different from what you had been conditioned to.

Everyone could see it. The way you both were attached at the hip. Every mission was spent by one anothers side. You trusted him with your life. You had started to.. love him.

But then it all began to crumble and fall. You had been taught to watch behaviors and assess people like they were your prey. It was instilled into you, drilled almost as deep as the robotic body parts the heroes had forced on you. You watched people. Perhaps that's why you got along so great with Hawks; or Keigo, as he revealed during one of your more quiet cuddle sessions. That was the night he made love to you. He taught you what touch could feel like beyond hugs and kisses. He made you feel things that reminded you that you are human. The constant voice in the back of your head telling you, reminding you that you're not a monster. At least, not by choice.

It had been 4 months before you realized his behavior was..off. Maybe it was before that, and you just wanted to ignore it. You didn't want to believe something could be wrong. His behavior, his mood, and the twitch in his eyebrow when he saw other villains hurt heroes. You could see it. Clear as day. Clear as it can be for someone so close to him, like you. At least, you thought you were close. He had been inside of you and explored your emotions and desires. He reached into your soul and pulled on strings you didn't know were there. He helped you find yourself. And you figured out who he truly was a little too late.

The wind had always been your friend. It gave you fresh air and made you shiver. There was always something so heartwarming about the shiver that made you feel like a kid again. Movie scenes flashed in your head, movies Keigo had introduced to you. And pictures of autumn leaves and Thanksgiving pop into the images. Keigo mentioned he wanted to take you somewhere for the holiday. Somewhere private and peacful. Maybe travel to a place with beautiful waters and calm forests. He promised to take you. Though now, as you stood on this roof overlooking the city, images of such a blissful dream faded from your mind. The wind had always been your friend. That is what matters right now.

"Please don't do this. I swear to God I was going to tell you. " He didn't matter. His words were a lie. They had to be. There was no way he cared about you, claimed that he loved you, and lied to you for months.

"I was stupid to believe you. I should have listened to the voices in my head. They protected me before you came along.." The words were so soft, you almost didn't want to say them. A part of you wanted to forgive him. Forget the lies and the betrayal and run into his arms. You wanted to comfort him. The scars on his face were so fresh. His wings were still so torn and burnt. But the hurt you felt deep inside blinded you. You couldn't let this go. Not now. You couldn't let another man hurt you and get away with it.

His footsteps were hesitant and desperate. He looked at you with such guilt and regret. It was eating him inside. He could lose his wings. They used to make him who he was. But when he met you, it all changed. You were his everything. You were the reason he kept fighting against the villains. But he was the reason he kept being a spy hidden from you. If you knew he was still on the heroes side, you would have never trusted him in the first place. He didn't know much anymore. Who was right or wrong. But he knew he loved you.

"Baby, I swear to God I was going to tell you. I just didn't want the heroes to find out about us, and I couldn't risk my secret being told to the villains. I love you -" He whispered, his voice cut off as tears formed in his eyes. "I love you so damn much. You made me feel human again! I felt like I could be myself around you. That's something I've never felt before. With no one else." He begged. His voice was desperate and hoarse. And you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms. You wanted to believe him, but you were so hurt. If he loved you, why didn't he trust you with his secret?

"I've been lied to before. I know how this works. And now the Liberation front doesn't want me anymore. They think I was helping you. I've lost everything because of you." You said harshly, tears falling down your face. Keigo shook his head, swallowing his sobs. "No! No, I'm right here. I do love you, dove. Please, believe me. Step away from the edge and come with me. We can leave. We can just go. We'll be together, off in the cabin that you said you wanted. We can finish teaching you how to write cursive a-and I'll help you build that garden you wanted. We can grow as many tomatoes as you want! If you just..step down. I'm begging you." You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your cheeks. Tears scattered the city below, mixing with the light rain of the afternoon skies. You wondered if this is how it was supposed to be.

"I wanted that with you before you broke me. Before you lied and took advantage of my lack of emotions -" You said bitterly. "No! I never once took advantage of you. I am not your father, remember? You told me he abandoned you with the hero committee. I would never do that to you. I would never leave you like that, dove. You're my everything." He said sternly, stepping forward in determination. You could almost hear the truth in his voice. But the wind was so much louder tonight.

You turned to face him, your heel resting on nothing as you stood on deaths door. You could see past the wind. The truth is so evident in Keigos eyes as he pleaded with you. But if he lied to you once, couldn't he just do it again? "How can I believe you? After months of lying to me. To my face. How do I know I can trust you not to lie to me again?" Your voice was so soft, Keigo almost couldn't hear you. Almost. He just shook his head. "I.. I don't know. But I do know I would do it again if I had to. If it meant keeping you safe, I would lie again and again. Because I can not lose you. Not after I've found you." He was telling the truth. You could see it on his scarred face. The same cheek you loved to caress. Now marred in scars because of Dabi.

"Please just come to me. Let me take you away from all this." You wanted to step away from the edge. You wanted to accept his words and rush into his arms. But the wind has always been your friend. And it was a jealous thing, it was. It pulled and pulled until you were falling into its arms again. It was so loud, your eyes were tearing up. Keigos' face was the last you would ever see, but the wind would stay until the very end.

[khaopybara]

I think Kant would have gotten far less criticism or hatred if KantBison were not being shoved into our throat. Like, clearly the showmakers want us to root for KB, everyone from Style to Cop Chris saying how Kant has fallen for Bison yada yada but at the same time Kant casually talks about Bison, the supposed love of his life, getting shot dead or spending his entire life in prison....without any sign of pain in his voice or face...like he's talking about mildly uncomfy weather.

This is clearly a narrative problem but it does make viewers frustrated and Kant's character has to bear the brunt of this narrative folly. I am very sure if the narrative made it clear from the start that KB are not, under any condition ending up together, the situation would have been different....but of course gmmtv has to sell their cp (by which I mean cp merch and stuff). The showmakers already have a pair (FadelStyle) that are hitting all the right spots for how a romantic pair should be and they can be easily shown to be having a happily ever after. Ideally they should have kept KantBison 'lovers to enemies' actually ending up as enemies...but well....cp 😒

i'll start this by saying this is the one and only ask with hate for kant/kantbison that i will answer because from your oh so many words, i can already tell you fit into the exact category of people who already made up your mind about the character and nothing i say will change your perception. but bc i'm not feeling like being the bigger person, sure, you wanna talk about this, let's talk about this.

first of all, i wanna talk about your apparent hatred for cps (or maybe it's just fk, we never know) and gmmtv's system, and you know, that's so funny because that's, and i know it'll shock you, their thing😯. so maybe if you didn't want to see that, you shouldn't have started watching the show, even after knowing that the two couples would end up together in the end because guess what, this was advertised as a romcom. and we what do we get with romcoms? exactly, happy endings. a travesty.

i find it so funny when people say fadelstyle are hitting all the spots for a romantic pairing, because that's what's supposed to be (again, a romcom), they are the more traditional romantic storyline (or as traditional as you can get with a killer and a guy who only started hitting on him and continued to do so because he wanted a car) so they are supposed to be hitting those spots. it's their storyline.

see, kantbison hooked up that very first night they met, clear attraction, kant was besotted by his one night stand and was calling him a ghost because bison up and ran before they could wake up together. their first interaction together and it had nothing to do with the police, or lying or manipulating, so maybe it's not a narrative problem that kantbison are "being shoved down our throats" maybe it's just a you problem if you didn't notice what they were being set up to.

and many people have talked about this already, and if you cared to read either liz's or lauren's meta about kant, you wouldn't have come to my inbox complaining about kant not being expressive when he clearly can't let himself feel the things he wants because his priority will always be his brother (just like fadel will prioritize bison always) in contrast to style who doesn't have to carry the responsibility of raising and caring for a younger brother on his shoulders.

and darling, if you started this show thinking at any point, from the trailers, pilot or official, promotional photos, osts, novel, press, anything, that kantbison would not be a thing, again, it's not on them, it's on you and your poor observation skills. there are plenty of people way more qualified than me to talk about this and how kant actually cares for bison, and how he's torn between his heart and his brain, but you don't really care, so why bother.

[liquorflower]

some lil’ toji smut I wrote, I hope u enjoy!

cw: cheating mentioned (author’s against that!) sex and that

wc: 1200

It might be that he wants to see you agonize.

What it doesn’t have is decency. It never will.

Your mother was right about the pain and distress marrying a man like Toji would bring into your life. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing you could do to leave him behind. One day, you really hoped he would keep his feet back on the ground and you could finally be a normal couple.

This suffering is the window of the woman’s condition. 

No matter how bad the man treated you, you kept him for the wonders the cock between his legs gave you. 

No matter how tormented his absence during the night caused you, or the gambling nights in which he spent all of the money you carefully managed to hide it on an old radio that was a wedding gift, only a night would be enough to make you shudder and keep wondering if one day he might find a different path and finally become a good man.

The wedding night was a memory that kept you wide awake. Naked, in the stifling and sweaty sheets, this memory flutters into a burning desire full of guilt. How many nights have passed since his tragic and yet joyful departure? Dancing in bliss and ending up on the floor thanks to a heart attack. 

You can still remember that horrible feeling. His dead body lying on your thighs, trying to get a signal. It could be another stupid joke of his. The many whispers of his friends conspiring against whoever wanted him dead stunned and disoriented your perception of that awful reality. Who would have wanted that? He was a good man, you think for yourself.

You can’t turn back time.

It was inevitable. 

If it weren't for the loan sharks and mobsters who ran the casinos where he gambled, his damaged liver would have ended his life. Yet you wanted to believe he was still a good man. Behind the lies, the disrespect, the untruths, and the deceit, there had to be something better about Toji.

It was the sex, but every time you thought about it, even when he was still alive, embarrassment and modesty would reject those thoughts.

Where did you stay?

Yes, your wedding night. It is very wrong to speak ill of the dead when they can no longer defend themselves. It is better to bring only pleasant memories, like this one.

You kiss him passionately, your arms are around his neck and your hands play with the errands of that strange white hair. You can smell a pleasant scent impregnated in it. He was preparing for this special day. It was strange. Toji never thought that this day would come. It was not something typical for a soul like him, who claimed that he belonged to all women.

Nevertheless, something intoxicating hypnotized him from the moment he saw you. Unluckily, not even that love and passion were enough to change that primitive desire to long for other women.

He removes the bridal veil, still absorbed in your lips, which, hungry for affection, play with his tongue in a kiss that burns your mouth. With your eyes closed, he caresses your body, searching the fabric where your dress ends. He tries to pull off the simple dress you have chosen with one tug, leaving you in your underwear. This separates you for a moment so you can finally breathe. Your bra and panties are the only things covering you in this intimate and very personal encounter.

He can’t help but run his wet kisses along your collarbones while his playful hand deftly unbuckles your bra. The moment your breasts are exposed to him, a nervous shame makes you cover them, as if you couldn't handle this level of intimacy.

He lets out a giggle. “You act as if this were our first time.” As if it were a game, you suddenly run out to cover your naked body in the sheets of your new bed. The embarrassment is hard to handle and you hide half of your face in the pillow, still able to see Toji unbuttoning his shirt.

“Ah, my love. If God wanted us to be sterile, He wouldn’t have created sex. Our purpose in this life is to have children and die to complete our cycle in this life.” He recites excitedly. A grin of carnal desire decorates his lips as he quickly takes off his clothes.

You can still remember his big, muscular, masculine and well-built body. It's a pity that his organs didn't match his outwardly “healthy” and virtuous body.

There's no need to speak ill of the dead.

You find this gibberish funny. Nevertheless, this new married life and intimate moment are somehow new for you. Then, suddenly, he rips off your thoughts alongside the sheets. “Toji!” You let out a sigh full of shame and you cover your chest again.

Toji stops and looks at your perfect body. “My princess…” He approaches you and brings your lips back to his. He runs his fingers down your belly, caressing gently until he reaches your cunt. He introduces two of his digits into your dump fold and uses it to caress your clit. His playful mouth leaves kisses on your forehead, cheeks and neck.

You get back in bed and press your back against the wall. That way it’s a little more comfortable for him when he pushes his fingers into your wet cunt. It is funny to think how right he was about the modesty and shame with which you handled the situation. You were moaning with pleasure and he could feel you exhaling your hot breath, which made him bring your mouths together again.

“Oh, my love…” you hide your face in his shoulders. He wants to torment you and he’s never tired of challenging you.

This is what’s inside a woman and it shouldn't be. The fact that a man like him causes this pleasure and you will be bound to this hell for the rest of your life. You won’t be able to leave him thanks to this fervent lust that heats your body from the inside out.

Before you could cum, he separated from you to pull down his pants, exposing his thick girth. That’s the other reason why you decided to marry him. His teeth suck on your collarbones. He’s smart enough not to leave hickeys on your neck. You can feel the tip of his cock poking your vaginal lips. Now all you can do is surrender to your husband.

“My beautiful flower.” He mutters as he shoves himself into you. Your walls tighten and that’s a sign for him to keep thrust. The way he slams his cock makes you capable of bear the bad husband he could become. 

What has no shame, it will never have. 

Your nerves are claiming in agony and your organs are imploring in this burning night, in which you are slamming your fingers inside you, to see if you are capable of ever feel something again.

You will never see his green eyes or smell his fresh toothpaste breath after kissing him with a horrible onion and garlic mixture before that.

[pribblingg]

On the eve of a day that's forgotten and fake as the trees they await and clouds anticipate the start of a day when we put on our face a mask that portrays that we don't need grace on the eve of a day that is greater and than us but we open our eyes cause we're told that we must and the trees wave their arms and the clouds try to plead desperately yelling there's something we need I'm not free I asked forgiveness three times same amount that I denied I three-time MVP'd this crime I'm afraid to tell ya who I adore won't tell you who I'm singing toward metaphorically I'm a whore and that's denial number four

The horrors of the night melt away under the warm glow of survival of the day then we move on my shadow grows taller along with my fears and my frame shrinks smaller as night grows near when the sun is climbing windowsills and the silver lining rides the hills I will be saved for one whole day until the sun makes the hills it's grave

It's the same game today as it always is I don't give these places fake my name explaining this and the wrists of my mind have the bleeding lines that remind me of all the times I have committed dirty dirty crimes that are perfectly form-fitted to what I've done and what I'm doing I'm brewing and losing and spewing infusing and believe me that's what all the kids are doing what kids are doing they're killing themselves they feel they have no control of their prisoners cells and if you're one of them then you're one of me and you would do almost anything just to feel free am I right of course I am convince me otherwise would take all night before you walk away there's one more thing I wanna say our brains are sick but that's okay

We turned our hands to guns traded our thumbs for ammunition I must forewarn ya of my disorder of my condition cause when the sun sets it upsets what left of my invested interest interested in putting my fingers to my head the solution is I see a whole room of these mutant kids fused at the wrist I simply tell them they should shoot at this simply suggest my chest and this confused music it's obviously best for them to turn their guns to a fist

[flowers-that-sing]

cw for psychosis things (mostly in tags)

yesterday, while hallucinating, i came up with what i thought was a genius idea for my fanfiction.

...yeah

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost circus au

ghost’s an extreme motorcycle stunt performer - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes, that sort of thing

soap’s a fire breather/dancer. he’s a roaming performer; he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling

he pretends not to notice the way he always wanders towards a certain tent every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity. he thinks he's slick and that ghost won't notice him in the crowd, completely forgetting that he's carrying something that happens to be on fire

ghost couldn't miss him if he tried

one day off, soap's trialing fire whips; he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air and maybe he's a little too impatient to practice with non flaming whips first, even though he's never used one before

he's covered in soot and fine welts where the tip of the whip keeps flicking back up at him, cutting through his shirt and stinging his skin but he doesn't let that stop him. it starts to stick to him, damp with sweat and blood and he's quick to strip it off; throwing it to the side to keep practicing

when soap finally gets a few good cracks in a row and breaks to celebrate, he almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the masked rider leaning against a trailer watching him

of all the times he's wanted ghost to talk to him, this is not one of them

he wanted to impress him, dance for him with his flaming batons and be mesmerised by his fluidity and skill

not catch him filthy and struggling with something as basic as a whip

he's ready for ghost to ream him out for not having control over the whip - he's known throughout the circuit for expecting utter perfection in his routines - but when ghost finally does speak, it's only to ask if he's done for the day

soap falters for a moment. he wanted to get some consistency with the whip before he stopped, but he's starting to feel the hours of practice; muscles aching and skin blistered with minor burns

he says he is and ghost pushes off the trailer, nodding his head to make soap follow. he brings him back to his trailer and tells him to clean up then takes out his personal med kit to treat the grazes on soap's skin

soap's shocked; for all that he loves to watch ghost perform, they've never really talked before

part of why he joined the circus was so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone, the oldest in a family with too many mouths to feed and not even time to nurture, and here he is taking up ghost's valuable practice time bc he wasn't good enough to handle his own discipline. he tries to brush him off, downplaying the burns and tries to leave before half them can be treated but ghost just glares and orders him to sit back down

ghost does expect perfection from himself but it isn’t out of any malice or ego; it's bc he knows if he isn't perfect, he could very easily die. he’s picked a dangerous profession and he gives it the respect it deserves. there isn't any shame in being a novice or failing at something; he thinks there's a lot of beauty in having the courage to get back up again and again

so every day he watches soap practice and bullies him into his trailer to put him back together bc he knows he won't do it by himself

and every night soap wanders over to ghost's section of the fair grounds, in awe of his skill and wishing he could be worthy of the care he gives him

[wickershells]

pissing me the fuck off honestly

[good-beanswrites]

Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...

👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!

Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.

With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.

He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall. 

The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.

A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.

“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”

“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”

“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”

What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.” 

Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.” 

Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it. 

“...Oh…” 

Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”

“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”

“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.

He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.

“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it. 

Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”

Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up. 

“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”

Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”

Shidou hummed in thought. 

“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best. 

Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”

“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”

Mikoto frowned. 

It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.” 

“Thanks. Really.”

He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”

Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”

Maybe this time he would believe it.

[maudiemoods]

When you say 'I am constantly thinking about death' I just hope it's a morbid fascination and interest in the topic, and not the desire to die. I hope it's because you think bones are cool and maybe you want to get into Vulture Culture, and not thinking of ending your life.

I hope you know that you are valued. People love you and this world would be a much less beautiful place without you in it. I hope it's not suicidal thoughts and I hope you just want to show off your bone collection, or your hoard of preserved creatures in jars.

I hope you don't think of leaving yet. I hope the reason it's constantly on your mind is because you long for your moots to be by your side, helping you reconstruct critters from a pile of bone you found wherever you got them.

It's not really morbid fascination, but thoughts I'm forced to have? I don't like these thoughts and I'm only thinking them when I'm at a really low place. More often than not, I am very happy to be alive and witness the word around me!! I love my family and art and strangers online and the sky and the clouds and a fun video game with a whole fandom around two of it's characters! These thoughts are suicidal and scary to me. I feel them very strongly and there are times I want to crash my car! But I won't! Because I know I don't want to in the long run! I love being alive and I have a very strong desire to be alive and seek help instead of leaving. I think these are more like intrusive thoughts! And they hit at my weakest moments which makes them feel real, but they aren't! I'm staying right here for as long as I can! I wanna make it to 100!

Thank you for your concern! ❤️❤️❤️

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

oh my God I completely understand that trope of ppl being absolutely useless around their crush now what the actual fuck is this

[sadgirlautumn]

I’m currently very upset about the American healthcare system. Like I hope they know that they are making people actively sicker 🫶