#like idk i just think the stomachs inducing anxiety is

[taylorswiftdebut]

i think something we all need to consider is not everyone getting a code or buying tickets is insane so to speak and won’t get tickets the SECOND they drop like i really do think the swifties that are truly worried and are on top of it are in the minorities of probably low thousands and social media just makes it seems like so much more especially given taylor’s status

[neverendingford]

.

[atinycafe]

can i ask if you can make something with san and fainted reader like she is exhausted or maybe pregnant?? hehe idk it's up to you. i think it might be sooo cutee like fluff + angst 🥰 (i read the drunk with mingi and it's soo cutee 🤧🤧 i love re reading it!! and i love your writing style, keep going ily 🩷🩷🩷)

warnings: very soft angst, fluff, pregnant reader, fainting, hurt 2 comfort, 0.6k wrds author's notes: you're so sweet to me omg??? thank you baby ly2!! masterlist

you're sitting on the edge of your bed, lost in thought while gently caressing your baby bump. the anticipation of your baby's arrival has been building for seven months, making your belly feel pretty heavy. suddenly, your quiet moment with your unborn child is interrupted by san entering the room, carrying a big bowl of cut-up fruits. you turn to look at him, and his eyes are filled with so much love that you feel like you're floating.

he sits down cross-legged in front of you, flashing that adorable eye-smile you love so much. placing the bowl of fruit next to him, he takes one of your bare feet in his hand and starts massaging your calf.

"you know, you don't have to do this every night, san," you chuckle, teasingly.

"but the doctor said so! you won't be able to walk tomorrow if i don't do this," he sulks, as if he's the one suffering from pregnancy-induced swollen ankles. you can't help but giggle at his playful fussing, which elicits an exasperated smile and a slight shake of his head from him.

once he finishes, he heads to the bathroom in your bedroom to wash his hands, and you sigh in relief at the ease in your feet. your attention then turns to the bowl of delicious fruits on the floor in front of you.

as san returns from the bathroom, you both reach for the fruit bowl at the same time. however, as you stand up, you suddenly feel lightheaded, and the background noise from the tv fades away. before you know it, your knees give out, and you start to fall, but san rushes over and catches you just in time.

you wake up a few seconds later, meeting san's shaky gaze, his brows furrowed with worry. with a dopey smile, you greet him, "hey handsome."

"baby, are you okay?" he stammers, cradling your head gently with his hand, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. "i—i thought you were fine just a second ago—"

"san."

"i thought—i need to call the doctor—"

"san, can you please calm down? you're giving me a headache," you say, trying to soothe his anxiety. he immediately falls silent, his big, doe-like eyes looking down at you with concern, his beautiful brown irises swimming with worry.

"i'm alright. remember, the doctor said this could happen? you were there, and you cried in the car, you big baby," you playfully remind him.

san chooses not to respond and just embraces you tightly, holding you close without putting pressure on your belly. you're about to tease him, but you stop when you feel his shoulders shaking against you. softly stroking his back, you reassure him, "i'm okay, sanni. everything's fine, even she is," and you place his hand on your stomach, so he can feel your daughter kicking against the skin. he doesn't lift his head from the crook of your neck, but you can sense his sniffles. his touch is gentle on your nightgown, his thumb twitching every time he feels a thud.

"san as much as i love your hugs, i'm craving the fuck out of a kiwi right now," you say with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

he chuckles softly against your shoulder before helping you up and tucking you back into bed. he plants a small kiss on your forehead before reaching for the forgotten fruit bowl on the floor. settling down beside you, he pulls the bowl out of your reach when you try to grab a piece of kiwi.

"lemme feed you."

[loonarmuunar]

Just finished Saw II. And I have MANY OPINIONS

I don’t think the larger cast works in the runtime for the film. I think it COULD work! But with the fast pacing and shorter runtime, it ends up being awkward.

Saw was great bc it hurt. The audience is given time to connect with the characters. We see them try over and over again, only to end up right back where they started.

But in Saw II there just isn’t any time to learn much about anyone. I don’t think we even learn some of the characters names? I couldn’t connect to any of the characters, besides Daniel. There’s just. Very little to no downtime in the film. We don’t get to know a lot of the characters motivations besides “get out of here”.

Like. Why did Obi kidnap them?? He said he had to, but. What does that mean. Was he being threatened? It feels odd to me that they went with that, when they could’ve just said he did it for money or something. Or just had Amanda take the others, like she did in the first film.

Tbh Addison (had to look up her name) doesn’t even seem to have any distinct traits?? She’s a prostitute, but we learn that in the weirdest way. Xavier (I think?) says “The only door you know how to open is between your legs.” which. I gotta say is such a ridiculous line that it’s funny. Does he say this about every woman??? Was this just a lucky guess?? Is he just REALLY GOOD at telling who’s a prostitute???? That’s just the silliest way I can think of introducing her profession akdksk.

She might be quieter than most of the other characters (maybe??), but I think it’s more that the others are constantly screaming at each other. You could possibly say she stays in her lane?? But there’s just nothing much you can say.

I can’t care about these characters while they’re living, and so I can’t care about them when they’re dead.

Also it looks more like they just tried to kill off as many characters as fast as possible. GOGOGOGO SHOT IN THE HEAD BURNED ALIVE NAIL-BAT NERVE GAS EVIL BOX EVIL BOX!!! Like Idk what’s the point when you could just. Have a smaller cast, and have more time for other stuff like. Learning who they are.

Saw ii is just a lot of shock value. Which, I don’t MIND shock value sometimes! Sometimes it’s awesome to see how special effects will make it look like someone got split in half, or exploded from the inside, or whatever. Sometimes it’s Sick As Hell! I am not above watching gore for gore’s sake!! But in the particular instance, I think shock value is the WORST THING you could do here. Because it’s a very strong veer away from the quieter, more anxiety inducing gore and fear in Saw.

Going from Saw’s slow paced dreadful horror, exploring two characters deeply, and occasional bloodshed, to Saw II’s huge cast with not enough time to explore any of them, and non-stop blood and gore, is just frustrating.

Also! The gore and ickyness just kinda loses its value for me! In Saw they cut away occasionally from the gorey parts. And I LIKE THAT. Whatever you can imagine will always be worse. Writers typically don’t tell you what happens in a Noodle Incident, bc whatever you imagine will be far more interesting. And it’s not like we were missing out on anything, because there were other instances of onscreen blood and gore. Imagining how it would look seeing Lawrence sawing off his foot, or Amanda cutting open someone’s stomach, is a lot more effective than seeing it happen.

Saw II wants to do everything Saw did but MORE. Gorier louder bigger more characters. But it ends up being a movie with no substance.

It’s honestly not a bad movie on its own merit. If it was its own film, it would be pretty okay to me. But it fails to even live up to Saw, much less stand next to it.

Maybe Saw III will give more context to things. I don’t know. Shrug. Would love to see some other takes on it! I want to understand why others like this movie :]

[milogreer]

SIGH. I JUST. listen. i’m gonna do what i do best on this blog and ramble. geordi and cutie’s arc is so good. it’s cute and sweet and fun and sexy and then it’s awful and anxiety-inducing and frustrating and a little scary. i love how messy their relationship is. the separation put a knot in my stomach to listen to because you can tell how much both of them are hurting and traumatized in their own ways.

and things sometimes have to get bad before they can get better. cutie can love geordi with everything they have and it still isn’t enough when they keep hurting him. their trauma and insecurities aren’t an excuse to repeatedly cross his boundaries. they think love is a bandaid when it isn’t. you can’t treat someone like that and think just because you love them however much that it’ll wave away the hurt. it wasn’t until geordi really put his foot down that cutie had to listen to what he was saying. they needed that wake up call, for someone they love and trust but who they’ve hurt so deeply to show them how they’re hurting him and to say “i want you to heal. i deserve happiness, and safety, and peace. and so do you. and right now you don’t have that, and that’s leading to a lot of hurt. i don’t want that for you. i love you.” to make them see that they can’t keep acting the way they have been because it isn’t going to fix anything. it’s just going to keep hurting everyone involved.

and getting to see them work on that, on bettering themselves for themselves, was just… man. that audio left me emotionally exhausted almost more than the initial separation. they kept in touch and they were comfortable enough to hug and geordi got them their usual drink order and it’s like. sometimes love does prevail past all the ugliness. and it’s not fixed overnight, they both still have their things to work through, geordi himself says he wasn’t blameless in sort of why cutie acted the way they often did, but it’s progress. and that matters. it’s proof that cutie recognized that they were in a bad place and that they wanted to be better, and that means a lot to geordi. and i love that this is an ongoing process, i love this in-between bit of them figuring themselves out and i hope we get more of it. it makes them feel realistic and flawed and just so fantastic to listen to.

anyway at the end of the day it always just comes down to love, you know? love for others, love for yourself. love driving you to be your best self and to want the same for the ones you care about. it comes down to “i love you. i loved you then and i love you now. you are worth work and effort. i want us both to heal from the things that have gotten us to this moment.” idk if any of this makes sense i just really care about them and i miss them constantly </3

[jimothysomebody]

I am halfway, give or take, through this stupid THC detox. Jaysus what a saga of shenanigans this fuckery has been. My brain chemistry is way too delicate for this shit. Props to people who can handle it cuz it's not for me.

I liked how I used before... occasional vaping here and there, idk if it was just amping up my use of the cheap delta 8 stuff, or sometimes being able to vape the proper real deal cannabis carts fresh from the dispensary (medical and recreational is legal here in Ohio)... or just my overall inconsistent use of either/both, but this has been so taxing on me.

In the worst of my highly anxious (read paranoid or even fkn cannabis withdrawal induced psychosis) episodes feared everything from brain cancer to POTS to stroke to aneurysm to diabetes to hypoglycemia to vitamin toxicity to hypoxia to blood pressure issues... but ultimately, so far, everything... *EVERYTHING* has fit the timeline and symptoms of withdrawal and detoxing. Sleep disturbances, changes to mood & anxiety, changes to appetite, headaches, stomach issues, chills & sweating, short lived episodes of lightheadedness & confusion/loss of focus out of nowhere have been the scariest for me... to top it off, I think being anorexic from February 'til April exacerbated it, too...

The dizzy/woozy spells began late March, and have been a regular (but not daily) occurrence since. Some days I've had no symptoms for long stretches of time or when I did they were very minor, some days I've had none at all. Prior to quitting cold turkey on the 12th symptoms seem to have correlated to my pattern of vaping. I'd vape, feel better for a day or so, and then go right back to being miserable.

Eventually I saw the pattern and decided to test the theory that, just maybe, my own sporadic and inconsistent habits were keeping me in a near constant state of withdrawal. For the most part I was a light weekend user in the evenings, but... I'd vape with my bf when he came over with the good stuff, or when we hung out with friends who also had better stuff than I do. I also just did more some days than others, weekdays & weekends both... but the days I had the good stuff I'd feel better... until I didn't.

I *almost* wish I was a daily or heavier user... just to not feel this way anymore... it's not a constant horrible feeling but when I feel it it's not great and it's kinda scary. I like getting a little bit high, relaxed or silly, I also love what it can do for my anxiety and mood, it's also been a great help for occasional aches and pains... and it can be very nice to do socially, but I don't really feel compelled to get high that regularly or that much, and don't really need or even want to, *especially* if I know that lurking around the corner is this absolute nightmare of withdrawal that I've been dealing with since like March 18th if I don't keep up with that kind of use.

Today was day 10... 10 days without any thc from anything. I still expect withdrawal symptoms for another week or so, but if the last 10 days symptoms lining up with the detox timeline of symtpoms and when they most commonly start to occur have been any indicator, it absolutely *has* been withdrawal I've been struggling with, and I can't fuckin' wait until I'm through this. God what a nightmare. I've had withdrawal from caffeine, from antidepressants like Pristiq & Effexor, from sugar (which nearly put me in a psych ward, 2 of the most depressed and anxious weeks of my life, jaysus never again), but this... this fucking experience is in a league of it's own, it's single handedly been the worst... and I'm so glad to be (or at least, I'm convinced) half way through this.

[sevicia]

give me the movie recs instead! scary is ok

LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Under a read more cause I looove talking, and the sections are ordered by like, priority of recommendation if that makes sense ... I also tried 2 actually rank them but I am not very good @ that LOL

Personal Enjoyment ONLY!!!:

No theme besides personal enjoyment "just for fun"/not relatable edition:

The Batman - I love it I just love it. I watched it bc my sister put it on and my pen's battery had run out. I was CLUELESS

Spree - That's my attention whore wife that would kill me for views !!!!!!

Jacob's Ladder - The best fever dream anyone could ever ask for !!! Everything about this movie is perfect. And this doesn't really matter TOO much ....... BUT …….. !!!! Tim Robbins in short shorts towards the end .......... save meeeee .................

Antiviral - I rewatched this one just before writing this LOL. It made me crazy when I first saw it back in 2022 and it makes me crazy now too!! The entire movie feels cold & sterilized but it's still Completely Sexual. Syd March I know what you are. OH also I like to think Mr. Cronenberg Sir is proud of his son bc this ruuuuules

Martyrs - This is like the ultimate "can't rec it as-is" movie bc of the amount of people that are genuinely disturbed by it & don't get me wrong I am one of them!! But there's just something here that has me thinking about it so often. The violence is amazing and the feeling in my stomach is horrible every time !!

No theme besides personal enjoyment mental illness edition:

Pulse (AKA Kairo) - Extremely close to my heart, the way loneliness relates to the internet & technology in general is such an interesting topic it would be enough to make this movie stand out for anyone, but I have such a personal fondness for it because of how much I felt it understood me. In a few ways.

Pearl - IDGAF how many people have gone "just like me fr" cause I am also one of them. I don't get the whole "female rage" thing that gets mentioned a ton (on account of me being some guy), but the theme of never being able to escape a life you hate ??? Absolutely fucking terrifying & hits super hard for me specifically

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? - The RESENTMENT, the ANGER, the DESPAIR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It resonated w/ me a lot more in the past but not so much anymore, which is good LOL

HORROR!! YAY!!:

Horror SERIOUS edition:

The Thing - certified classic I legit think everyone should watch this one at least once in their lives. The practical effects r amazing, the story is GRIPPING & many of the actors r hot. Literally what else could u ask for…..

Hellraiser - Huge DUH ….. The short story is so good too Mr. Clive Barker I owe you my life !!!!!

The House That Jack Built - Pretentious, yes! But also really fun/satisfying to watch. I've seen some people comment on this kinda movie being typical for the director? But IDK who that man is & I don't care either. Like at all.

Ringu - Just a classic. So creepy I have to hype myself up to watch it LOL

Persona - INSAAAAANE INSANE INSANE. I saw someone say it's toxic yuri which like. Yeah I think. But also it left me confused in a rly good way

Noroi: The Curse - honestly should be self-explanatory @ this point. GENUINELY scared the shit outta me

Repulsion - Also a drama (besides a horror), the way the main character's paranoia escalates is just .... haunting, I think is the word. There's some degree of irony in here, because of who the director is, that I can't really articulate.

Gorefest / not too serious:

Creep - INSANE found footage about a guy making decisions that seem questionable if not stupid to most people, but not to me. I understand him. (disclaimer that this one could also go in the prev. category ..... I don't knowwww)

Intruder - I was on a slasher kick a few years back and this was one of the better ones. The convenience store setting is so much fun & something I'd never seen before! Or since.

Rec - SOOOO anxiety inducing, there's a lot of moments where people r talking/yelling over each other & the part towards the end that explains the whole thing is just. 0_0. to me. Bc it's among the top 3 things I do NOT fuck with !!! (same disclaimer as w/ Creep).

Hostel - I actually really like this one & don't understand most of the criticisms besides the obvious misogyny. It irks me a lot that it gets called "torture porn" so often when it's just … not that bad ? As edgy as that sounds !!

Cube - go there. in the cube? go in the cube.

The Poughkeepsie Tapes - Zero excuses for this one, you just gotta embrace your shit taste sometimes

Terrifier - Separate from the 2nd one cause that one is different in more than a few ways ..... but this one is just like charming to me in a weird way. It 's fucking filthy like, visually tho cause of the abandoned building & other such things ....

Terrifier 2 - This one I also enjoyed a lot though it IS really really long, I found it fun! The whole family aspect of it I liked a lot bc fictional siblings my beloved :3 though Art's backstory is still rly muddy (4 me at least) I do think it's like, a fun silly slasher if you've got 2 hrs and a lot of patience LOL

Just fun overall!!:

YAY!!!!!!!!!:

ROBOTS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - Oh my GOD I love this movie. I love this movie so much it's probably my favorite childhood movie. It's funny as fuck, really pretty AND has a good story. IK it may sound like nostalgia's involved but I just truly believe it's an amazing movie<3

Birds of Prey - This one is just a serotonin machine for me I love Harley so so muchh

Wendell & Wild - Visually insane I looove the look of this movie. It's also just rly enjoyable, I watched it multiple times at one point since it's on Netflix I think ? My mom got sick of it LOL

Bottoms - Absolutely bonkers it's such a fun movie. Gay and untalented and ugly and yet one of the most lovable movies I've ever seen ?? They need to print more of these

A Trip to Infinity - This one's actually a documentary on um. Infinity. Which is lovely because watching scientists be enthusiastic about their work and gush about it is just so good for my brain + it made me cry

The nostalgia I have 4 these ones is craaazy:

The Butterfly Effect - this was on TV SO OFTEN it was insane. I watched it so many times as a kid I always insisted on not changing the channel

The Voices - SO fun & silly I think of it so fondly .....

Paranorman - I love this movie so so much forever it's just so beautiful & funny

Zombieland - It's just fun man IDK what else to tell u

Sucker Punch - Another one that was often on TV, it's just embedded in my memory forever. I learned what a lobotomy was bc of this movie!!

MISC!!!:

These are dramas !!:

Parasite - Just watch it if u haven't. Everyone says you should watch it and they're RIGHT !!!

The Devils - I love horny church stuff so much

Let the Right One In - fucking loved this one. Freezing cold, very pretty AND probably the best vamp movie I've ever seen. Though I haven't seen a lot

Girl, Interrupted - insane behavior from the girls here but they're literally in a psych ward so who cares

These r good but I don't remember them much SOB:

The Eyes Of My Mother - this one gets called slow/boring a lot but I really don't gaf I still liked it

Wolf Creek 1 + 2

The Descent

Phenomena - The 1st game of the Clock Tower series was based on/inspired by this movie! Nothing else 2 say I just think it's cool lol

American Mary

A Clockwork Orange - I watched this nearly an entire decade ago but it goes here because of the fact that sometimes I still hear that dumb cunt Alex DeLarge go "I've suffered, and I've suffered, and I've suffered!" inside my head a lot. Also I have to mention that he did look good beaten up despite everything going on w/ him.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary43

10/20-21/2023

friday - saturday

wrote a good chunk today, a whole section put into draft, chunks added to prior parts, and a whole earlier lost bit retrieved, good day for writing.

i also did my piece for the new collaborative poem, surprisingly, i did that last today, funny how things work out. it's good i just jumped right into writing my main thing i guess. i also didn't add at the start there about how i also got a good start on the section after, it's still difficult, i have where it begins roughly, and i have a huge mid-section of it written, but there's an interrupt where i need to change the narrator's focus, i don't know how to get there totally (i have a half idea, about focusing on the people they're with/ what it's like to watch people dispassionately, maybe that's it, i like that, brb) okay so i wrote more now, that's good, that's the big concern of today taken care of, but writing is a lot less anxiety inducing than music, i think because i know with words i trust myself more, and if i focus and think about it, focus and thought are the most important parts, i can make things happen. with music it's like, a lot more intuition, and i guess i want to sound like something in my head, or a conception, a confluence of sounds/words/images that i need to be exact. it's also newer to me i guess. i've been making music since sophomore year of hs, i've been writing / speaking english for 10 years before that, even more i guess, but writing for sure began at 5, most likely like, 4 though, i suppose.

that's not to say i'm like super great or whatever either it's just true that i'm more familiar with that terrain.

listening to die kreuzen's first album, trying to think about how to write weirder hardcore riffs and stuff, i wanna pick up my guitar soon but it's the weekend so my gf is home all the time. sad. i should probably not write more songs but idk, i made a new guitar sound, i like it, i think i can use it for some new things and some old things too. tomorrow i think i will listen to a bunch of my songs and see what needs work/what doesn't again. thinking on it now, i wanna do it now. but i should not, it's very late, i'll get really weird about it i bet.

so i'll just listen to dropdead.

also my stomach hurts cuz i did not eat a lot today, i should have eaten more, but i drank coffee which tanked my appetite, i did cook but it wasn't a ton, and i didn't eat after really. let's see, it was 4 granola bars, two-four fistfuls of pretzels, apple, banana, dinner, which was pan fried chicken in gochujang butter + steamed vegetables. no wonder i am starving now. seeing it listed here it's not as much as i felt like it was.

tomorrow i can also write some riffs too probably, see what i feel like i guess. this new sound is kind of good for really annoying high stuff but also the low end stuff too, it's weird, it's also the kind of sound where i think it's one of the ones i might tweak a lot depending on the song and what register i leave it in, i can crank one of the effects to help give it more annoying trebly chiming stuff.

and oh my lanta it is 6am now wtf.

i was looking at fashionpress.net today, at the newest jennyfax photoshoot, and i think i want to make a guitar sound that kind of gets at what monibelle does in some of the photography i've seen her do. i don't know what that means exactly, and my interpretation of that is obviously leaning into the harshness/ weirdness more than any more harmonious features.

but the trashy/sharp and jagged thing cut into something sort of colorful (not here necessarily but in the earlier photoshoots it's something more present).

some kind of noisefreak thing, justin pearson's bass sound comes to mind as kind of getting at this kinda frayed digital thing, but i dunno, i want something sharper/clinkier. i don't think i can get a guitar to get all that out emotionally, so it's i guess a reference point for where i'm writing songs from, but it's weird to think like that maybe, it is in the back of my head though, it has been since starting this whole ordeal.

maybe this kinda gets there, as a whole song, but i also love this guy's guitar sound, it's so good and so scritchy scratchy.

trying to balance all that with my <3<3<3 of pv and other fast grindy shit is hard, or not totally, other bands managed, but i think some particularities of wanting it all to be there/felt is what makes me feel kind of insane.

and there's a new song where i should work on synth sounds, like proper synthy sounds. i think what i'll do is use one of my chiptune synths that's never in tune and pair that with either another one that is in tune, or something like a free and more complicated synth that can do more modulation stuff, maybe surge i dunno. it'll just be simple squarewave stuff i think, but i wanna make it chirp and flutter kinda.

making some of the synths stick out more in the mix is hard but as long as they're evidently there that's all that matters to me, i think they kind of add a glue to the songs, them and the obv synth basses are cool to me.

anyways look at these perfume bottles (i am the one with the spiky circle lashes) and gosh the time, like uhhhhhhh,

byebye!!!!!

[moonjade]

Genuinely upsetting that one day I woke up and had no desire for a romantic relationship anymore and it’s been like that ever since. What is wrong with me??? I’ve had 0 desire for a relationship for like 2 weeks now and it’s genuinely baffling. I don’t know what to do lol, I’ve never felt like this before and I’ve never questioned my romantic identity quite as much as I have been in these past two weeks

[doebt]

ohmyyhggodd ugh

[whatthefishh]

Hunger of the Pine

Marc Spector x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, swearing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, idk what else to even say this is my first fic and first time writing smut please don’t read if you don’t like it? But also please read it and enjoy?

Word count: 5k

Summary: basically you fall in love with Marc while casually sleeping together because duh. How could you not. I based the story off this Alt-J song because I absolutely love them, hence the title. Ok thanks byeeee

Sleeplessly embracing

Butterflies and needles

Line my seamed-up join

Encased in case I need it

In my stomach, for my heart

Chain mail

Hunger of the Pine

Sleeplessly embracing (you)

Yawn yearns into me

Plenty more tears in the sea

He left again. Marc left you yesterday after a particularly intense session and it left both your heart and nether regions aching. His chest to your back, cock hitting something brutal inside you, and one hand wrapped around your torso to reach your neck. He kept whispering filthy words into your ear, knowing what would get you closer to finishing. “Let them hear you, let everyone hear what a good girl you are for me. You’re taking me so well, baby.” You shudder and come back to the present. You don’t know where he goes when he disappears on you, sometimes it’s for a couple weeks at a time, but he always messages you when he’s ready for some company. You try not to let it bother you that he refuses to give you any more of himself. You find yourself reaching across the bed anyway, touching the cold pillow as if he left a trace. It aches- but you shove it down and convince yourself you don’t feel it. You can’t. You shouldn’t. 

There’s plenty of potential suitors who would give you every part of themselves, offering you a real relationship. Then WHY are you stuck thinking of Marc? The butterflies you get when you have flashbacks of his hands grazing your thigh the first night you met border on anxiety-inducing somersaults in your gut. How easily he’d won you over then; how naive you were thinking it would be a fun one-off with the too-handsome-to-be-true guy giving you the eyes across the room.

Sighing, you turn on your other side to try and get comfortable, reminding yourself if he doesn’t care to tell you his whereabouts that you shouldn’t care where he bothers to go. Go back to building the walls up around your heart, before Marc Spector wormed his way in with heated glances and calloused hands. God, you’re pining. 

And so you finally use it

Bedding with me you see at night

Your heart wears knight armour 

Hunger of the pine

Sleeplessly, Embracing, You

Closing your eyes, you imagine the few times he has stayed; held you close to him in the afterglow, satisfied humming, arm wrapped around your middle, kissed the skin beneath your ear almost affectionately. You can almost feel it, him sleepily embracing you. Pretend you feel the warmth of his body. You’re pining again. 

Realization grew on me

As quickly as it takes your hand

To warm the cold side of the pillow

I'm there for you, be there for me

I’ll hum the song the soldiers sing

Does he see the sad, pathetic look in your eyes while you watch him get dressed? You think he does, and is just doing you a kindness by not mentioning it. Sometimes you swear it seems like he doesn’t even want to leave the comfort of your arms but he sighs dejectedly and does so anyway. 

You’re lying about being comfortable with your arrangement. Why was it that you were so compatible with the one guy who’s emotionally unavailable? Typical of you. The second time you two fucked in the bathroom of the bar went out together he told you, rather harshly, that he didn’t want a relationship, that he was damaged from his last one, and that he’s sorry. He looked it, too. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on your part. Regardless, when Marc gave you the option of staying casual with him, you said yes- somewhat eagerly, in retrospect. Although your heart dropped at his admission, you wanted to keep any sort of connection to him. The physical chemistry was dizzying and addictive since that first night. 

Fast forward to yesterday, he mumbled something about having a train to catch in the morning, leaving you in bed, trying to imagine the body heat he left behind to catch some semblance of rest before the start of your week. You don’t know how long you’ve been tossing and turning. Time gets weird when you let yourself overthink like this. You think you’re going to have to say something the next time you see him. You can’t look at his pretty face, strong jaw and swollen lips, deep brown eyes staring down at you while he thrusts- 

You’re getting off track.  No, you're definitely going to have to say something. You can’t stay quiet next time. You’re just going to come out and say it, say that the arrangement isn’t working for you, that you want more or it has to end. Your sister keeps trying to set you up with her husband’s friends and you can’t keep blowing her off for… whatever this is. Maybe you’ll actually go on a date. Maybe it’ll go well. Maybe you’ll even go back to his place, where he probably won’t know your body the way Marc does, but maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe-

A knock sounds at the door. Who could possibly be at your door at this hour? Your heart rate jumps at the thought of someone breaking in, overpowering you in your barely there pajamas. As you quickly look around for some sort of makeshift weapon to fight the intruder off with, a second knock follows, this time more urgently. Throwing off your covers, you quickly reach for your umbrella and quietly peer into the peephole to see if you can make out who’s at the door.

Your breathing quickens and heart rate jumps at the sight of Marc on the other side of your door, running his hand through his unruly curls. 

You wrench the door open before he knocks for a third time and wakes up your neighbours and you catch him with his fist midair before he drops it. You stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. What the fuck is he doing here, at this time, without texting you first? 

Giving Marc a quick scan and then checking the hallway in case anyone woke up from your unexpected guest, you swiftly pull him inside your apartment and shut the door. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with more acid in your tone than you probably meant to show. 

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart… Why are you holding an umbrella?” He shoots right back. 

Looking down you realize you’re still holding on to the umbrella like a baseball bat, ready to attack your midnight guest. You quickly put it back behind the door, not missing the way Marc was trying to hold back his snickers. 

“You didn’t answer my question, Marc. What do you want?” His eyebrows shoot up at your tone. You realize you’re being rude but you’re tired and he is entirely too comfortable dropping by your place really late with no heads up. 

“What’s with the attitude?” He spits back at you. “Have I done something? I was in the area and thinking of you so I thought I’d come see you.” Even though you knew that he wasn’t going to be the one to move this situationship to the next level, a small part of you was holding out hope for him to say literally anything that would let you believe that. 

The air grew tense, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of ruining whatever you had going with him. Get your shit together, you said you’d say something the next time you saw him. Well? Now or never!

“That's kind of the problem, Marc.” You sigh exasperatedly, forcing the words to come out. “You haven’t really done anything.” He looks just as annoyed and confused as before you spoke, brows furrowing as he focuses on your words. Evidently not being able to catch on, he motions with his hand for you to elaborate, to which you sigh even heavier. Maybe if you don’t look directly at him it’ll be easier so instead you focus on his socks. 

Socks? This fucker took his shoes off already, ready to stay? 

Squaring your shoulders and looking him in the eye, you muster up your frustrations with this man to finally voice them. Deep breath. You got this, you tell yourself. “I… I know I said I was okay with what we have, I know you told me from the start how it had to be but I don’t think I can handle it anymore. I’ve been trying to ignore it and I can’t keep going on like this. I want more, Marc. Fuck, I-I don’t know anything about your life, I’ve never even been to your apartment, you never tell me where you go, and I want you to want to tell me. I want you to want more with me, too. Don’t pretend you couldn’t tell, and don’t look at me like that!” You were progressively getting louder through your little outburst and by the end you needed to take in a deep breath at the effort it took from you. 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just breathing through his nose heavily. His eyes bounced back and forth between your face, your legs, and the mirror hung on the wall behind you. You start getting irritated by his lack of response and huff impatiently. 

“Please just go, Marc, you don’t have to say anything.” With your head down, you attempt to walk by him back to your bedroom but he grabs your arm before you get past him and pulls you to face him. 

Une immense espérance a traversé la terre

Une immense espérance a traversé ma peur

(An immense hope has crossed over the earth

An immense hope has crossed over my fear)

“I’m not…good. At any of this.” he grits out with his hand still wrapped around your forearm. “I told you that at the beginning of this because I’m not good for you, I’m no good at relationships. They never fuckin’ work because I am just not…good enough. I’ll only end up making you unhappy.” Marc has never been this vulnerable in front of you before and by the tension in his jaw and shoulders, and sweaty grip on your arm, you know it wasn’t easy. Your heart breaks a little at his confession, hope still fighting its way up your chest into your throat and before you even realize it, you’re holding his face in your hands, his own landing on your waist. 

“Marc you absolute shit head.” You huff out with a small smile on your lips. His eyes shift to the mirror behind you again before quickly shifting back to you. Does he know he's pouting? “Why on earth would you think you’re not good? I’d like to make that judgment for myself, thanks.” You try to laugh lightly to ease his tension.

“What if it’s terrible? What if I hurt you, what if we fight all the time, what if- listen I can’t have you hating me.” He rushes it all out, concern etching his features, clearly having thought about it before.

“What if it’s good? What if it’s so good, Marc, what if you’re not as terrible as you think?” you throw back at him, challenging his insecurities. The hope that was itching in your throat is out there now, enveloping you both in its clutches like a warm embrace. “Besides, even if we do fight, at least we know the make up sex will be good.” With that being said, his gaze darkens and the heat from his hands on your waist burns through your clothes, fingers squeezing you in their path to your hips. 

“Oh, will it now? You’re sure of it?” He jumps at the opportunity to tease you, and before you have a chance to retort, backs you into the wall behind you to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. The kiss steals your breath, and maybe you’re imagining it, but you feel reassured by it, like he’s admitting what he can’t say out loud through his tongue. When you pull away breathlessly, you’re both sporting goofy smiles, your foreheads touching; a core memory forming. 

Dragging your hands down to intertwine with his, you slowly walk him backwards to your bedroom. This air feels different, heavy, almost cottony as the both of you stay quiet, for fear of breaking the spell. Never have you both been so emotionally honest with each other and so gentle, it renders you shy. 

Foreheads still near, eyelids sitting heavy, he guides you to sit on the edge of the bed while he stands, looking down at you. You think you know what he wants, he usually wants your mouth on him to start, says you look the prettiest with your lips wrapped around his cock. But no… he drops to his knees for you, hands caging you in on the bed. So things might be going a little differently but you roll with it. 

Taking the sight of him in, he looks entirely too good for such a late hour, skin flawless, a barely there scruff coming in, a couple of stray curls coming down on his forehead and those deep eyes staring at you through his lashes with the bottom whites of his eyes showing.

You look so pretty kneeling for me. 

He sniffs out a laugh and you realize belatedly that you said that last bit out loud, heat rising to your face. 

You lean forward to kiss him again, this time slower, his lips moving expertly on yours. He deepens it, asking permission with his hot tongue to explore your mouth, eliciting a high pitched whimper from you. At the sound you make, Marc pulls back and smirks at you, then moves his mouth to your jaw and continues kissing his way down your neck, biting softly at your collarbone. Your chest is heaving already. The air was already stifling and now? Now you’re burning up from the inside. 

“Why is this still on?” he asks, tugging upwards on your sleeping top to remove it. It gets tossed into the darkness of your bedroom. You shiver at the slight chill in the apartment, and he watches in fascination as your nipples harden right at his eye level. Looking up into your eyes he moves forward, capturing one of the hardened peaks in his warm mouth, groaning with his mouth full as he palmed the other one. 

As much as you wanted to maintain eye contact you couldn’t help but toss your head back at the feeling. He quickly moved on to the other breast and bit down on it to get you to look at him again, pulling a soft moan from you. Looking back down at him, he released you and moved his hands to your hips, fingering the elastic of your underwear, silently asking for permission with his eyes to remove them. This was a completely new side to him, since you only ever knew the Marc who took what he wanted from you and made you beg for it at the same time. 

Pulling your bottoms off of your legs, you sat there completely bare in front of him, both physically and emotionally for the first time. Marc started to kiss up your legs, starting from the crease in your knees moving towards your apex. He shouldered his way in between your knees so that you couldn’t shut them once he was settled in and held you in place with one hand on your hip. You were still a little sore from your activities yesterday, and trembling slightly at his almost reverent touches. 

“You’re shaking, baby. Is this okay?” He squeezes your hip reassuringly. Afraid to open your mouth at the risk of nothing coherent coming out, you just nod your head dumbly with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You can tell me when you want me to stop or if it gets too much.” 

Again you’re shocked at the affection in his eyes and touch, but it’s by no means hesitant. Like looking at him through a different filter, with the same burning intensity. Your eyes shut as he lowers his head to your sternum and kisses down the middle of your torso, until he reaches your core, but surprises you by completely bypassing it and moving on to the tops of your thighs. His teasing nature has clearly returned, wanting to push you to beg for him. 

“Marc…” you sigh breathlessly. He looks up at you with a small smirk on his lips. “Please, Marc.” You say again, in the hopes that it’s enough. You don’t even know if you can get the words out, he’s barely touched you and you’re both breathing heavily. There’s a white noise in the back of your mind as your focus pinpoints on both of your sounds. 

While maintaining eye contact, he drags his mouth along your inner thigh until he’s breathing on your slick folds and finally, finally, licks a long stripe up. His hand is still gripping your hip tightly, holding you in place and you’re glad he is because you feel boneless, like you could slip right through his fingers to join him on the floor. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as he licks another stripe into you, slowing to catch your clit between his lips to suck on. You flop onto your back right when Marc brings his other hand to insert two fingers into your entrance, curling them upwards to hit that patch of nerves. Back arching, you grab on to his hair to anchor yourself with one hand and the other bunches the bed sheets by your side. 

He’s too good at this for your sanity. The hand not occupied with his hair slaps over your mouth to try and hide how far gone you already are for him. It won’t take you long it seems, you just need a little more. 

“P-please don’t stop pleasedontstopplease-“ you say, muffled from between your fingers. He continues to lap at your clit while leisurely fingering you and curling his fingers up. 

“Let me hear you then, or I will,” he taunts you, then goes back to flicking his tongue even faster on your clit. Moving your hand off your face, your whines are now loud enough for him to hum into your mound happily. 

“Ohhhh fffuckk, Marc!” Your sounds keep rising in volume as he finally picks up the pace of his fingers and before either of you are ready for it, you’re coming all over his fingers and tongue. Back arched, hand still in his hair, you’re dissolving into the mattress with a broken cry. You can hear his fingers squelching into you as he continues to pleasure you through your release and your hands come up to cover your face as your lungs try to catch up. 

Peeking through your hands you watch as he finally pulls his fingers out and unceremoniously sticks them in his mouth, humming when he tastes you. While you’re still trying to gather your senses, Marc stands up smugly and starts undressing. You take that as your cue to sit up and unbuckle his pants so you can return the favour but his hands catch yours after removing his sweater.

“No, pretty girl, not tonight.” His hand cups your jaw so you’re looking up to him, your hands resting on his hips. “Tonight is about you.” Your heart flutters at his words and you know it’s written all over your face. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you pull his pants off him but he pays it no mind, just pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb and then smiles to himself. 

He leans down to crawl over you and you go with him, both of you shuffling up the bed to get situated in the middle, faces inches apart. Marc kisses you again and you taste yourself on him. He continues kissing his way down your neck, biting and sucking on the tendons flexing there. He lifts his head when you make a sound in the back of your throat and then he’s staring at you expectantly, so you try to slowly turn to your usual position, shifting to your hands and knees but again he stops you, and pulls you back before you move. 

You feel like you’re out of your depth, here with him, the scenario playing out very differently than what you thought. You’ve always had a very expressive face so you know he sees your confusion and kisses you hotly while pushing down on your sternum signaling for you to lay back.

“Tonight I want to look at you, if that’s okay?” He says quietly but still very much in control. You nod with your noses rubbing, never having experienced this type of intimacy before. Marc may not be the most vocal man when it comes to being vulnerable about his feelings but it’s showing through his subtle words and warming your heart. 

His hands come to either side of your head, caging you in and he reaches forward to capture your lips in another deep, toe curling kiss. Your hands are exploring his shoulders, neck and chest freely, caresses full of love this time and not just lust. His smell and weight overwhelm you in the best way possible. All your senses are just picking up Marc, Marc, Marc. Your hand comes to rest on his face, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb as you part for air, and your legs fall open on either side of his hips. 

Gripping his cock in one hand, he rubs the tip through your heat, moving smoothly through your soaked folds to spread your arousal all over. Moaning his name, you press your face into his bicep and tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He wordlessly positions himself at your entrance but waits there with the tip lodged right where you need him. 

“I know, baby, I know. I want to hear you say it though, can you ask me nicely?” He purred, nudging your face with his prominent nose. 

“Please, I need you. Please!” You manage to spit out, canting your hips up so as to tempt him to just take you. The feeling of him barely starting to push in was driving you insane with arousal, you felt as though you were dripping on to the sheets. 

“Please what, baby? What do you need?” How he has self restraint right now you don’t know, but you try to appease him anyway even with your brain short circuiting. 

“I need you inside me, I want to feel all of you!”

Finally, Marc pushes in the rest of the way but takes his time with it, making sure to watch your face crumple around a high pitched keen as he does so. 

“That’s my fu-fucking good girl, look at that. Does that feel better?” He asks before dragging himself out to the tip, and on his hard thrust back in, decides to mock you further, “How about now? Better, baby?” 

Marc begins with a slow pace, making sure to pull out slowly only to thrust back in hard and deep, breathing hard against the shell of your ear. You can’t answer him but your noises are involuntary, more pronounced when he grinds into you. He pushes his face into your neck and keeps the mind numbing pace, occasionally whispering sweet but filthy things to you. 

“Pretty baby, letting me take her apart, m-my baby, so wet for me, so good to me.” Your chorus of whimpers kept growing, until he kissed you so tenderly while grabbing your hands from where they were purchased around his back to intertwine them by your head, caging you in. He kept pushing, going impossibly deeper, and the air shifted, became suffocating in the best way possible, oxygen scarce as his eyes locked on yours. 

Something in you snaps, and your back bows into his chest. Marc continues to fuck you through the spasms as you fall off the edge he’s been pushing you towards, crying out with his name on your tongue. 

There’s a flood between your legs, you know it because you can hear it and he’s sliding in your oversensitive pussy so easily now. 

“You look so good coming for me, I wanna watch it again. Please?” He licks from your throat to your ear to sweeten the request, shifts your legs over his forearms planted next to your waist now so you’re fully spread out for him to see. “Can you give me one more? I think you can, you’re so good for me.” 

You don’t even get a chance to come down and he’s building you back up again. His words aren’t helping but he doesn’t seem like he’s in control of them either at this point. Looking down you can see where he’s spearing into you, going faster now but just as deep as before and the sight makes you whine in the back of your throat. 

He groans as he looks at where you’re joined, a pained noise that makes him drive harder into you. You struggle to anchor yourself so you settle for his arms and dig your nails in, too far gone to care if you draw blood. 

“I c-can’t, Marc” you’re stuttering with the words, “it’s too much, I can’t” is all you can manage. He’s eyes become softer while he shakes his head at you. 

“You can take it, take it for me, yes you can, pretty girl” he pleads, eyes imploring. “My girl, right? You’re mine?” He’s asking you for affirmation and you know it’s about more than just this moment. So you nod. Cockdumb or not you’re nodding in agreement so he knows you’re in this with him, trusting him to take care of you in more ways than one. He knows how, he’ll take you there, and he kisses you like a vow.

You’re on fire, veins ignited and something devastating is building inside you again. The concept of time is escaping you. His lips are smoldering against yours, and he swallows your moans while delving his tongue into your mouth. You feel like he’s slowly peeling you apart and piecing you back together at the same time; like the glue he’s using is actually made of lighter fuel and he’s just fueling the fire lit deep within you. You break apart gasping for air as his cock punches mercilessly into your core, hitting the area that makes your vision spotty.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning uncontrollably and Marc knows you’re close. He lifts your leg to wrap around his hip and settles his hand on your lower stomach and presses, thumb reaching for your clit to pluck at it with no hesitation. 

This is it, you think. This is how you’re gonna go out, screaming around Marc’s cock because he fucked you too hard into your mattress. Your vision whites out, blood rushing past your ears deafening you, and your muscles tense up as you come harder than before. 

You’re clenching too hard around Marc for him to move for a few seconds so he sits there letting you milk him, arousal rushing out of you like a downpour. “God, you’re perfect, such a good girl coming for me so hard, that’s right,” as he brushes your hair out of your face. You’ve stopped convulsing enough for him to start up again, but your whimpers from him thrusting into your overstimulated pussy have him speaking again. “I know, I know, almost there, please baby.”

His pace becomes irregular, sinking deep inside you as you drag your fingernails down his back, tears leaking out of your eyes. How is your orgasm dragging out this long? 

“Ahhh, f-fuck, you’re so- fuuuuuck I’m gonna come, I-” He groans out into your neck, hips smacking loudly against yours and with a final thrust finishes, painting your insides with his release. 

He flops down with his face still buried in your neck, and spent cock still inside you. Both of you are still breathing heavily and your brain feels like it needs a minute to restart, but it does supply you with the motivation to run your hands through his hair and down his back soothingly. You don’t know how long you two stay like that but he eventually starts lazily kissing your neck until he finds himself looking at you from above, and you share small, shy smiles, faces beaming. It feels like the sun has settled in your chest with how giddy you feel and Marc? Marc’s face reflects yours, that same happiness you never thought you’d be the cause of, his eyes cataloging the details of your face to memory. 

You’re sickening, you think. This is the sappiest you’ve ever felt about someone and you don’t know how to act, especially as the last hour catches up to you. After a few more short but sweet kisses, he’s pulling out of you with a hiss and looking at the mess he made of you. You feel both of your spend leak out of you, feeling sweaty and achy all over. Before you can even say anything though, he’s pushing it back in with two fingers and roguishly asking you to keep it in for him. You nod blankly, as if you could deny him anything right now. 

Marc settles in next to you on the bed and you turn to face each other, faces inches apart and limbs tangled together. You’re both sporting the same, goofy, shy smiles and settling in to sleep. 

“Will you stay with me?” You softly ask, still hesitant to ask. 

“‘Course… but I-“ he starts and stops again, and you try hard not to jump to conclusions of him finding an excuse to reject you. 

He looks like he wants to continue, with his brow furrowed and eyes focused on your chin, mouth still open poised to speak. As your hand reaches up to smooth out his forehead, his eyes look back to yours, making him quickly spit out “Ihavesomethingtotellyou”.

“Anything. You can tell me anything, Marc” you reassure him, a tone of worry lacing your voice. His eyes look panicked for a second before rolling back into his head. 

“It’s not his fault, love, he just likes you too much!” He said, a bit too loud for how close you two were, making you jump back a bit out of shock. 

See, the voice came from Marc but it didn’t sound like him at all, with an unusual British accent and higher pitch than his regular voice. 

“Oh s-sorry, love, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Steven.” 

Was this all some fucked up dream you were having? 

[always-aces]

aha taylor swift songs + portgas d. ace

under the cut bc it’s a lot lol

paper rings 

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.” is cute in and of itself but like.......idk man y’all are pirates. Could very easily steal something nice if either one of you truly wanted to. I think the man would go into cardiac arrest if you ever told him this though ngl. 

you are in love

just remembered this song exists screaming crying throwing up 

literally have goosebumps thinking about it everyone shut up rn

“you can hear it in the silence.” wouldn’t imagine there’s a lot of silence between y’all anyhow ((this mf doesn’t know when to shut up)) but!!! there’s times when he’s just gazing at you with this soft look on his face. during these moments, words aren’t needed. 

“you can see it with the lights out.” his love for you burns brighter and hotter than his flames ever could. the way he holds you close when you’re trying to sleep, and pressing kisses all over your face has you wondering how you ever doubted his feelings. 

“and for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts.” I think this one would be more his pov than yours? Mans has been through a lot of trauma, and it would take a significant amount of time and consistent praise/encouragement from you to convince him that he was actually worth anything. Be patient with him, he’s got a lot to unpack. 

“he pauses, then says, ‘you’re my best friend.’“ he’s stroking your cheek as he says this, his breath fanning across your face as he presses his forehead against your own. it knocks the wind out of you to witness the pure unadulterated adoration he has for you. 

“he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown.” Mans will never get tired of seeing your face, and keeps a little picture of you on him at all times. When he’s missing you, he presses a kiss to it, whispering promises of being back soon. 

“and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars....and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words.” Sunshine boy would quite literally do anything for you, if his selfless actions are anything to go by. as terrifying and anxiety inducing as this is for you, he’s always okay in the end. Always. 

Message in a Bottle

PLEASE. 

“and I became hypnotized by freckles and bright eyes.” pretty self explanatory!! has freckles for days and you’d give anything to lay around and trace them. he laughs when you ask about it, but because he enjoys your touch as much as he does, he encourages it. his eyes are always full of mischief, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing that gleam in them whenever he wants to get up to some tomfoolery. 

“you could be the one that I love, I could be the one you dream of.” of course, you love him deeply ((and him, you)), and go out of your way to show him just how much. constant words of affirmation backed up by actions would be this man’s one way ticket to being head over heels with you. if the way his breath hitches, and how his grip tightens around you was any indication, you telling him that you love him is.....significant to say the least. without hesitation, he whispers it back. would imagine that this man dreams of you often ((and enjoys every second)). 

“I could be the reason you can’t sleep at night.” ((maybe this is pre-relationship)) even with his ability to conk out at any given moment, he still finds himself laying awake at night thinking about you. how your laugh sounded, or how cute you looked in what you wore that day. he wonders if you feel the same way he does. if your skin feels ablaze like his does when your hands brush. if your stomach is filled butterflies when you see him, or if your heart jumps in your throat like his does when he sees you. 

Willow 

oh my GOD.

"rough on the surface, but you cut through me like a knife." another one that's probably more his pov than yours. but yes, he's very rough around the edges. Your kindness and patience wear him down eventually, and it's like he's been turned into putty. his heart is so soft for you.

"life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind." let's be real, this man is the stubbornest bitch you've ever seen. there is absolutely nothing life can throw his way that will keep him from pursuing his goals. even if his plans fall through ((which they often do)), it never keeps him down for long. he can't let it, not with how many adventures he wants to have with you.

"anywhere else is hollow." can imagine that he doesn't truly feel at home when he's not with his crew + you, so I can imagine that this is true. he could be anywhere in the world, and as long as you were there with him, he'd be satisfied.

"show me the places where the others gave you scars." pain. all i know is pain. but yes, it'd probably take quite a bit of time before he opens up to you about his past. when he does though, he spills his entire heart out to you. hold him close to you, whisper soft affirmations and praises to him, and he's yours. tell him that love isn't something to be earned, but to be given and received freely. cherish him.

[bunnykawa]

hungry (osamu miya x f. reader)

summary: You have a big crush on the handsome owner of an onigiri shop. He thinks it’s annoying. Or does he?

a/n: eh idk what this is. timeskip love haha. but this might be a triggering so please keep that in mind and read the warnings

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, noncon/dubcon/rape, raw sex, kinda public sex?, some degradation, little bit of spanking and hairpulling, abusive language, violence, stalking, mentions of past sexual abuse, you vomit but it's not sexualized it's trauma-induced, timeskip!osamu :)

The energy of the restaurant is oddly calm tonight. Nights are almost never tranquil at Onigiri Miya with the constant parade of people coming in, so you hum in satisfaction when you scan the restaurant and there's barely anyone here. You stare down at your half-eaten onigiri and the loyalty stamp card that you filled up from how often you come here. After nine visits, you get a free onigiri on your tenth one as long as you show them your stamp card. 

This is your hundredth visit—you remember because the first time you entered Onigiri Miya was ten stamp cards ago. The staff already know your name, if not by your face and your timid behavior that makes you stutter when ordering the same thing every time they see you. As peculiar as they think you are (for coming to Onigiri Miya at the same time on Fridays and Saturdays for the past six months and sitting alone quietly until they close), they warmly welcome you.

It's only you in the dining area tonight. The few employees that Onigri Miya has must have left earlier than usual. You suddenly tense up in your seat and grip onto your cup of freshly-poured hot tea tightly between tremulous fingers. The familiar male figure, standing at over six feet tall with beautiful broad shoulders, passes by the front counter, disappearing as he makes his way to the back. 

After you let out a harsh breath, you adjust your phone from behind your purse on the table. Your phone is propped up behind it, the camera lens slightly peeking over the faux leather. Butterflies form in your stomach when you see that you were still recording and you caught him on camera. 

Yes, you go to Onigiri Miya because the food is amazing. Somehow, they make a dish as simple as a rice ball so delectable and appetizing and you adore them because of it. But hyperfixation is a fucking bitch, your thought process is a little flawed, and the real reason why you frequent the establishment is because Osamu Miya is absolutely gorgeous. Every time you see him, you're left wondering what it would be like to run your fingers through his dark hair or how his lips feel pressed against yours. Your thoughts run wild. How does he like his eggs in the morning? What's his family like? Does he sleep on the right side of the bed? Left side? In the middle? Does he have space for you on his bed? 

How does it feel to be loved by Osamu Miya?

Every time you visit the restaurant, visibly nervous with anxiety beating in your chest and your throat closing as you try to speak, you feel that you're one step close to finding out. And maybe you did feel it once. Just once. You're unsure if that one special moment you shared with Osamu was genuine from his heart with good intentions, but you would do anything for that feeling to last forever. And if that made your whole being feel as if you were floating, then why wouldn't it be the same for him?

So, that's why you're here. To relive that special moment in the way that you fantasized about—something that can become a fond memory instead of a dream deep inside your head that leaves you yearning for physicality. Desire is the only sensation that you've felt for the past six months and it's torture to watch the man that you've fallen in love with barely acknowledge you as a person even if he's seen your face in his restaurant consistently every week since you first met. Since he saved you. 

Six months later. Six months to move on. Six months to get help and yet you're still digging your hands into your panties and biting onto your sheets to gag yourself because of one man after every visit to his restaurant.

"Hey."

Oh, that voice makes your thighs tremble every time you hear it. As stoic and impassive as it is, it's the same voice that gave you solace when you were beaten down in the dark to bleed on concrete. You're gritting your teeth—nearly moaning at the sweet sound—as that voice almost breaks you out of your thoughts. Almost. 

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Osamu asks in a deadpan tone from his place behind the counter. You jolt suddenly. For someone who's so obsessive with small details, you sure don't pay much attention to your surroundings. You quickly shake your head when you realize that he's talking to you. 

"Y-yes. I'm...I'm fine, O...samu," you squeak in embarrassment. You don't realize it, but you're clutching onto your stamp card with white knuckles. His gray hooded eyes seem to be staring right through you, as if he knows why you're here tonight, what you're looking for. But whatever he does notice, he doesn't mention. His eyes dart down to your purse before he maintains eye contact with you. 

He places his hand on the counter to lean on it. The small action makes your mouth dry. He's so fucking beautiful. "It's almost ten-o'clock. I'm gonna close up. You should leave soon." 

But you don't want to leave yet. Tonight was supposed to be the night that you finally made your dreams come true. It's only him and you in the restaurant tonight, so it must mean something.

"Where...where's the rest of the c-crew?" you ask shakily. Fuck, get yourself together. You just need an excuse not to leave. And he might know your name, but he doesn't know you. Not yet.

He raises a thick eyebrow at your question before answering, "Left early tonight. Just me taking care of the shop." You should have noticed. This is why you leave your phone recording while you're there—you don't want to miss anything in case you get distracted.

But does he want you to leave? Your heart aches at the thought of him not wanting your presence when you've been craving his for so long. "I see," you mutter awkwardly.

What do I do now?

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?" he says after a few seconds of awkward silence. You haven't moved from your seat and neither has Osamu moved from his spot to "close up" as he said he would. You wonder if the door is already locked.

"What do you mean?" Your heart is thumping more now than it has in the past three hours you've been here. Osamu lives in your brain rent-free yet you can barely breathe around him. Now he's speaking to you. Actually speaking to you.

"You know exactly what I mean," he calmly accuses you. The unexpected shift in his tone makes your blood run cold. "Wonder if your phone has run out of storage yet. Funny you go out of your way to come here twice a week just to record me."

"What?!" you cry out, suddenly shooting up from your seat. Your chair skids a few inches across the floor behind you before it tilts and hits the ground with a crash. The quick movement causes the table in front of you to shake and make your phone to fall back as well, the screen smashing against the wood and the camera lens facing up towards the ceiling. You feel like you're about to have a heart attack. Your vision goes blurry from tears suddenly threatening to overflow because were you that obvious?

"I noticed. A long time ago. Remember you from that night back in the alley. Very unique face you got there," Osamu hums. He steps around the counter to make his way towards you. You cower into the wall beside your table, your eyes darting from your phone and Osamu's threatening figure.

Back in the alley. The image of the back alley behind Onigiri Miya flashes in your mind. Dark, wet, and sadly gray. That's where you first met him.

"Didn't expect to see you back here. Thought you might've developed PTSD or something with how you were crying. Now you're stalking me." 

"No," you loudly plead, shaking your head side to side, "I don't know what you're talking about!" You're lying straight through your teeth. That's funny—you've been coming to his restaurant for a chance to see him again, but he's coming closer and closer and you're terrified instead of happy. Your knees buckle as you press your back against the wall. You squeeze your eyes shut as the memories come flooding back into your system in vivid detail. 

He continues on, "Don't even lie to me. Stalking me like a crazy bitch. I wasn't sure what I should do about you. I felt bad for you and let you continue doing this, even thought about calling the police for a little bit, but…"

Osamu almost never talks to you, maybe a few times where he's handling the register and the orders and he has to talk to you, but he's always in the open kitchen where you can freely admire him when you want to, always an arm's length away. When you would think about what your first conversation together would be like, you always imagined his words to be kind. Sweet. Maybe he'd say he admired you—

"...you're a little fucked up in the head, huh?" 

His tone is hostile. There's no love laced in any of the syllables falling from his tongue. He's annoyed. He hates the fact that you want him—it's that obvious but you don't want to believe it, especially when you think you worked so hard. It's not fair.

Your mind is hazy as he's coming closer and closer to your trembling form. You see his lips moving and the calm expression on his face turn into hard evil, but your ears can't decipher what he's saying. His words have faded into white noise. And you've seen him multiple times, traced his face through the screen of your phone, admired him from afar at the same spot in his restaurant for months, but his face is sharper, harsher, and almost unrecognizable. Is this really the man that saved you? Is this really Osamu Miya?

Your blood is pumping loudly in your ears. It's the only sound that you can make out other than your heavy breathing. God, if he gets any closer...

Then, the adrenaline kicks in and you're lunging at him with your arms outstretched towards his large frame. You don't know what you're going to do and sure as hell you're no match for him, but your body is screaming at you. Your senses are running wild, like the aura that Osamu is emitting is lighting you on fire and making you act on primal instinct. It's telling you to fight. 

To fight him. To bash your tiny fists against his handsome face because he should have fallen in love with you the moment that you fell in love with him, but he has the audacity to leave you hanging for half a year and call you a stalker.

And it's painful. You're not sure which hurts more, but at this moment, the physical pain is excruciating. You can't breathe anymore, not when his calloused hands (from years of training on the court, which you found out from the internet, and in the kitchen) are wrapped around your throat. You can't think straight either—your head hit the ground a little too hard and the world is spinning. Osamu's face is contorted in anger and even if your world is spinning, his features are as clear as day. 

Your memories start crashing down inside your brain in fragments. The pain, frustration, and sadness hit you all at once—it’s nauseating. It’s as if Osamu can sense this, too, because as soon as he notices your sick expression, he flips you over to force you on your knees with one arm around your waist, his hand in your scalp to hold your head in place towards the floor and then you’re heaving and gagging out the rice balls you consumed earlier. Your throat is on fire and you're still coughing up pieces of rice.

“You gross bitch,” he mutters.

You gross bitch.

It's bouncing around in your ear drum until it fades into cotton, a familiar set of words that cut you deep that you were able to pick up on easily among the other curses he's been throwing at you. The same words from six months ago. A trigger? Yeah, that's what the internet calls it. You almost died, or at least that's what it felt like. That's the only way you can describe it, the only way you were able to make sense of what happened, because you feel that you might as well have. 

It was from someone else's mouth—a disgusting, grimy man whose face haunted your dreams for months, a man with greasy fingers that put his hands on you, who beat you until you were nearly unconscious with blood dripping down your chin, who ripped you away of your pride and worth until you were nothing. The concrete was wet and cold, scraping against your sensitive skin and breaking through layers as he rutted into you. His breath fucking stunk and for fuck's sake, you don't know if you've seen anyone uglier, but as fucked up as it is, he made you feel ugly. 

You thought you saw an angel that day. The backdoor to Onigiri Miya opened up and when you finally opened your eyes and looked up, there he was—with blank gray eyes that stared down at the scene before him in slight disgust, and then he ripped the repulsive body off of your half-naked form. You were too weak. 

While you were weak and scared and incoherent, Osamu saw you and didn't hesitate to protect you. At the end of every dream you've had since then, Osamu always came to help you. 

And that should've been the end of it. That should've been the last time. You can't go through that again. No, no, no. You don't deserve to go through that again. 

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You're more responsive and awake once Osamu bends you over the table you were sitting at, then your senses are overloading, telling you to resist, to keep fighting. You're so tired, at this point you're completely heartbroken, but you can't—you can't just give up yet. He's holding you down, restraining your wrists with one hand while his other hand is at your waistband pulling your shorts down your thighs. You're kicking at him with whatever strength you have left even if the taste in your mouth is vile, he's much stronger than you, and your head is pounding from the anxiety. You're grateful that you can even breathe.

But it feels like your body has failed you, once again, and for a second you think that you do deserve it. The adrenaline is almost gone, you can barely lift a finger, you feel like passing out, and—fuck—you're so stupid, so dependent on one person to make you feel high. With Osamu...you don't even know what to think. The image you dreamed of is long gone. It's sad that reality can crash over you so easily and ruin everything. 

"Get off of me!" you scream. Over and over again. Until your voice cracks and your throat is on the brink of bleeding, coughing out your poor lungs. Until it's nothing but the essence of your torment. Your cup of tea, now warm, has spilled all over the table and is slowly seeping into your hair as your cheek rubs against the wood. And there's nothing else you can do, because Osamu is still behind you with your hands trapped by his. Your shorts and your panties are around your ankles. His jeans are unbuttoned and it's out. 

You don't want to fight anymore, you're fucking terrified. So terrified that you can't bring yourself to move. As soon as you stop fighting, his breathing becomes steady and he's using less force on you. Sobs rack through your body hysterically when you feel it.

It's throbbing against your thigh—warm, leaking precum, long, and thick. The skin-to-skin contact in such an intimate area is making the hairs on the back of your neck rise. That tiny voice inside of your head is telling you to look back at it to see if his dick matches the image you made up in your head. Is it exactly how you pictured it? Is it as pretty?

He's wiping his precum against your tense skin. When you flinch at the tip of his cock rubbing against you, he bites his lip and kneads one of your ass cheeks with his free hand, spreading your holes open and ever so gently brushing his thumb over your pussy. 

"You're...wet," he comments. You hear it. He dips his thumb between your folds and swipes it up and down and you hear the squelching of your cunt over your heavy breathing. That's—that's not right. No, you shouldn't be feeling this way. He pushes his thumb deeper into your cunt and slowly pulls it back out. You flinch and arch your back slightly at the sudden sensation, making you push your ass towards him. He lets out a breathy laugh at your reaction. 

His thumb disappears for a second but it's instantly replaced with his dick probing at your entrance. With a roll of his hips, he breaks through your squishy flesh with some difficulty. 

A loud yelp and a slurry of protests falls from your wet desperate lips. You wriggle your bottom, trying to create space between your two bodies, jerking away from him with whatever strength you have left. However, Osamu keeps going until he's completely bottomed out, filling you up until his tip is flush against your cervix. He lets go of your wrists so he could keep a firm grip on your hips instead. Whenever you moved, it burned.

Stop.

The stretch is unbearable—it's been half a year since you've had someone else inside you. The burn of having your hole forcefully split open wide again against your will has your head going delirious with so many mixed emotions. Fuck's sake, this isn't right and it's been heavily engraved in your brain for months that you have every right to fight back. Although you haven't been thinking straight for a long time, you're still lucid enough for your ears to work and soak up information like a sponge. He's moving, rutting his hips into your hot cunt cruelly. You can still fight him off, maybe you'd win if you tried again. 

But this is Osamu. Your heart fucking aches for him and you want to get away, but it's Osamu drilling into your heat and it's just not fair. It's not fair because your body is still responding to his malicious touch. It's not fair because even if it hurts—and fuck, it hurts so damn much—you're involuntarily grinding your ass into him. It's not fucking fair because you can't hate him.

Why is life never fair?

"No," you sob, "No, no, no. It hurts. It hurts. Please stop." Your hot tears are mixing with the puddle of tea that's pooling underneath your cheek and your tongue still tastes foul from your little episode. You’re scared you might start gagging again.

"Stop?" he muses, "Haven't you been loitering in my restaurant because you've been craving my cock? You wanted this for months and the one time I give it to you, you're telling me to stop?" Osamu slams into your poor little cunt despite your pained cries and babbling. Your pussy is clamping around him, your body trying to accommodate his length and girth breaking into you so suddenly.

"Osamu." His name would've tasted so good if the situation was different. Little did you know that you pushed him passed his breaking point a long time ago. But Osamu knew that you were beyond yours ever since he met you. If only you weren't so fucking weird, maybe then he would've pitied you—maybe he would've genuinely felt something for you. 

What a shame that you fell in love with a man who wouldn't be able to understand you. 

"I'm tired of you coming into my restaurant," he grunts, snapping his hips against yours roughly, "-and treating me like I'm some kind of animal. Do I look like a fucking animal to you?"

You choke, “No. You don’t—that’s not why—please. You don’t understand.” 

“Then tell me," he coaxes. But how do you tell him? Are you supposed to be honest? You're afraid that if you are honest, Osamu will treat you just as badly as he is now. It's also hard for you to collect your thoughts and find a sincere explanation that he could listen to—you're too focused on the many sensations pulsing through you. He raises a bulky arm only bring it down instantly to smack your ass with rough hands. The sudden impact forces you forward for a split second. Then he brings his hand down a few more times, until he's satisfied with the dark red hand print with tiny splotches dotted across your skin. 

Is this a punishment for everything that you've done within the last six months? Punishment for admiring him through sneaky videos and pictures? Punishment for thinking about him all the time? You feel like a criminal, caught red-handed and forced to go through torture and suffer for your ungodly sins. Each time he hits you, you're twitching from the painful sting and praying for forgiveness. 

"Stop it!" you beg through tears, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It hurts so much." Apologies start spilling from your sore throat impulsively. 

I'm sorry, Osamu. 

Please stop, Osamu.

It really hurts, Osamu.

But nothing that comes out of your mouth convinces him, and after awhile it's more like you're trying to convince yourself more. Suddenly the burning in your sensitive cunt is replaced with the inebriating desire and hunger for more friction between your two bodies and it leaves a shameful tint to bloom over you. You're salivating over his dick—you wanna see it so bad even if you're scared—and the guilt is eating at you on the inside. It feels good, actually enough to have you gripping onto the edge of the table and sucking Osamu into your cunt so that he doesn't pull back too far. 

"Don't tell me that it hurts," he groans, "Your pussy is creaming all over me. You can't lie to me anymore."

He's right. You're lying more to yourself than him, though. You don't tell him to stop anymore, settling with swear words and a chorus of Osamu! Osamu! Osamu! It's amazing, intoxicating, and it also makes you feel disgusting. The way his cock fills up your tight pussy perfectly and how his balls are consistently smacking your clit and stimulating it—you're drooling from the pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" he huffs, "Is this what you wanted? To be a cockwhore for me?" 

Your body betrays you and you're left moaning and crying at the same time with breathy words that Osamu can't decipher because you're a complete mess, but he swears he can hear you agree without hesitation. "Y-yes, fuck yes! Your cock is s-so amazing," you cry out, "Hurts so good, Osamu!"

It's not enough. Although you're gradually submitting to him, it's still not enough for the sadistic side of him. He wants to hear more of you, to push you until you're braindead and nothing more than a hole to stretch and tear apart just for the hell of it. He leans over you just to grab you by the disheveled hair on your scalp. Another scream leaves you as he pulls you up to be able to growl in your ear.

"Tell me everything, you whore," he breathes, softly yet maliciously. You try to answer him but the angle he has your neck at from the grip on your hair is choking you. 

"Why'd you keep coming here? Obsessive little bitch. Why're you still here?" It's like he's laughing in your face even if his voice and expression say otherwise. He's mocking your pain, making you relive your trauma as if it was all a fucking joke. As if you’re incapable of feeling pain.

This isn't even supposed to feel as good as it does, yet it does. The way he calls you an obsessive little bitch has your stomach doing flips and your cheeks to flush even more. Then you're confused. You're enjoying his cock forced inside you and it's damn confusing. 

Fuck, it’s enough to further damage your overstimulated psyche and turn you into someone you never thought you would be. An empty shell of the person you used to be because your body doesn’t even fucking feel like your body anymore. Nothing feels real anymore, like you're shifting through universes and living lifetimes but you're stuck in one place at the same time. Why do you always come back here? 

You turn your head to the side, enough for you to see his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, probably from concentration on your slick pussy, and then he notices you staring at him. You don't utter another word, you might just choke and spew if you even open your mouth to attempt to (and holy shit, you don't want to embarrass yourself anymore), but your eyes—they answer his question in heavy silence. It’s enough for him to understand and see right through you. Loud and clear although you don't speak. 

Because you saved me.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out another sob, but this cry is full of guilty pleasure instead with barely any tears. It has you nearly passing out and feeling sick to your stomach and just please—make it stop hurting. But it feels so damn good at the same time, to have the tip of his swelling cock kissing your cervix every time he slams into you, grinding his hips against your sweet cunt. Your body contracts violently as you release your liquids all around Osamu's cock, pushing your ass against his pelvis and knocking your empty tea cup and purse off the table. Intitially, the loud crash makes you jolt but it's nothing compared to how your orgasm crashing over you has you screaming and thrashing around pathetically. 

You're cumming. You're cumming. You can't believe you're fucking cumming. You've never felt this way before and you always believed that sex was painful but you're still cumming long and hard on Osamu's cock. Your juices are being forced out of you.

And you didn't even want it.

You're embarrassed and oddly satisfied at the same time. Your cum is dribbling down your legs and there's no doubt that it's dripping down Osamu's pelvis and thighs, too. He lets go of your hair and your head drops forward onto the table with a thump. You wince at the contact, but you don't move.

After a few silent minutes (silent other than your audible panting) exhaustion finally hits you, and with a heavy breath you completely collapse against the table. You finally stop your death grip on the sides of the table to let them dangle off the edge. Your scalp is sore, it makes your head pound when you move your head even slightly. 

A soft tired gasp escapes your throat in surprise; you feel little pecks going up your back and across your shoulders.

Then there’s feather-light kisses tickling your shoulder that leaves an agitated tingle in your nerves and—why? Why bother being gentle at this point? But the fluttering in your pelvis doesn't stop. He slips out of you just to turn your weak body over so you're laying on your back. You instantly move your eyes further down and—

It's pretty. Prettier than you imagined. His cock is fucking pretty. It's hypnotizing as you scan the vein running underneath the skin and the pink swollen head oozing clear liquid. It's glistening, dripping, with juices. 

Holy shit, those are your juices. 

It dawns on you that you both connected. Although not in the way that you had hoped, definitely not, but...you connected in the most physically intimate way possible. You felt him, his warmth, his damp skin, everything. Your eyes drift upwards. He's breathing heavily, his chest visibly moving. He has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you in place—you're not going anywhere. You don't want to go anywhere. Examining his face, you can see everything, every single detail. His lips, his lidded eyes, his cute nose, the shape of his face, and—wow—Osamu is pretty. So pretty. He's nearly angelic when you take a closer look. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before.

You hope you're not imagining it, because you see something different behind his blank stare as if he's in as much of an awe as you are while you look up at him lovingly, like he didn't just hurt you. He took you against your will and yet you're staring at him like he just told you that you were his world. Are you a fucking idiot? Are you delusional?

"Do you love me?"

The question leaves him before he realizes his lips are forming the words. Osamu looks down at you, no other emotion laced in any of his handsome features except for distaste and...curiosity? With parted puffy lips and despair etched onto your cheeks, you slowly nod. The glazed look in your eyes draws him closer to your face, scrutinizing every part of your soft skin. He braces his hands on both sides of your trembling form. One part of your cheek is still wet from the tea that spilled earlier and your hair is disgustingly moist from a mixture of sweat and earl grey and you feel anxious again. 

"Okay," he says, voice as monotonous and dead as usual, but also worn out and accompanied with heavy breathing. You tense when he leans even closer, but quickly relax when you feel him kiss your forehead. It's a delicate kiss that makes your heart flutter. Then he trails further and connects your lips. It's short, but wet and sweet. He hadn't kissed you on your mouth the whole night, it probably would have been too weird for him to kiss a sad stalker he didn't know, especially when you vomited on his otherwise spotless floor. The taste of him is lingering on your skin—you're almost afraid to lick your lips in case this'll be the last time you ever have his against yours.

He pulls you into his chest. Your heart might just jump out of yours. His cock is brushing against your shuddering core, hard and sticky, but he doesn't enter you. Osamu simply holds you close, one of his hands in your hair and the other flat against your back. You weakly bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders and dig your face into the crook of his neck. 

Then you cry. You let out a harsh breath and let yourself cry again, shoulders violently shaking and your chest tightening uncomfortably, for the thousandth time tonight even if you're tired and yearning for the comfort of your bed. Slowly, wet tears seep into his t-shirt. Osamu smells good—musky, sweaty, like a man. You don't understand what just happened—it brought you back to six months ago yet it feels entirely indifferent. He smells like a man, but he doesn't smell dirty like the last one who destroyed you.

He continues to hold you as you break down. Osamu thinks he understands, but you—you're more confused now more than ever.

[selinakidreams]

hello hello hello ! this is my comfort piece for @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness month collab! and I’d just like to say a huge thank you to emme for creating such a wonderful collab and thank you for letting me be apart of it.

paring: kirishima eijirou (I’m talking 7ft big strongman vibes) x empathic quirk f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 3.7k +

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff

warnings: mentions of anxiety & toxic friendships, instigating with means to harm- please let me know if I missed anything!!

a/n: this I think,, was the best way to approach what has tormented me for years. it was a reoccurring thing for me but I never handled it properly, and just this year, someone important taught me that I deserve more than what I’ve been putting myself through. so here it is! I also think that once my schedule clears up, I’m gonna make a sister piece to this but idk !! let me know if you guys would be interested in that!

++ the absolute biggest thank you to my betas/flow checkers @doinmybesthere @lady-bakuhoe @keishinslove BIG kith

pss. the first person who can guess my love language based off this fic wins a prize

Turning other’s confidence to despair, gloating to fear, persistence to tiredness, motivation into loss- but all you felt was drained. The overuse of your quirk left your head feeling full of cotton; Your chest heaving and vision slightly blurry. 

You arrived late to the fight because what started as a relaxing day off quickly turned into a rush to get to the streets. Thankfully Red Riot had been on the scene, waist-deep and stalling a full-fledged fight between two combat villains until backup came. 

His tired eyes met yours and you flashed him a hopeful smile until witnessing the villain get a short-termed upper hand. They landed a solid punch, which caused you to feel not only the repercussions of the shock-inducing impact but your building guilt of being a distraction.

Years of training reminded you not to let it get to your head, your hero instincts kicking in after emotionally experiencing that strike. Heart pumping with adrenaline, you began to focus your heart and mind, simultaneously tuning into what those around you were feeling, never forgetting to keep your eyes wide and alert. 

Confidence, eagerness, perseverance, exhaustion, determination. 

Taking a breath as you ease into a rhythm, you kept your sights on the two people who were attacking the boulder of a hero and finally, a steady grasp.

Quirk at work, the familiar mental image of loose strings flowing in the wind appeared, and you grabbed a hold of them, symbolizing that you had caught hold of their feelings and wasted no time on bending and contorting to your will. You watched as their actions became slower and less motivated, making it easier for Kirishima to handle. He must have realized what was happening, a new surge of elation pumped through him as he began to knock both of the villains down a peg. 

Seeing him fight had always been such a marvel to watch; it was so easy to be mesmerized by the sheer enthusiasm he had while trying to keep the balance and execute justice. Kirishima Eijirou was a hero in all senses of the word- and not just any hero, your hero- as cheesy as it sounded.

Secured under his weight and possibly unconscious, Red Riot looked around, a bit disheveled, until his gaze found yours. Expecting to be met with the warm sincere smile that always made your heart flutter, your heart sunk when you saw his eyes turn wide and frantic as he called out your hero name. 

On top of feeling a bit dizzy from honing into those particular subjects and manipulating two people at once, a wave of distress washed over you, adding to the unfavorable aftermath of pushing your quirk. 

You were quick to whip around, finding another villain was closing in closer than expected. You dropped all previous controls and focused solely on the person in front of you. 

“You had gotten better since the last time I saw you,” they sneered as they attempted to land a hard-hitting kick to your stomach. 

Missing by a hair, you pushed past the dreariness in your head and went straight into a defensive position.

The close-cut dodge wasn’t the only thing to throw you off; now you had realized why Kirishima looked at you like that; your traumatic past, the one you had divulged to him in the safety of your home, warbling with tears streaking your cheeks, was coming back to roughhouse with the intent of ending in a knockout. 

Fear twisted into gut-wrenching anxiety; the plummeting feeling hit the bottom of your stomach with a harsh thud.

In front of you stood the unmistakable frame of someone you had considered to be one of your closest friends for a time; someone that seemed so natural to be with, someone you divulged secrets and shared smiles with, someone that had made it seem like separation was not an option- now turned villain, sporting a suited evil smirk smeared on their face. 

It was hard not to let the tears collect on your waterline, thinking about the whirlwind of your relationship as your gaze met theirs for the first time in years. Months and months of triggered breakdowns, cold sweats from various nightmares, and countless tears have been shed as time progressed, the sinking feeling of long-lost fear that they had put you through now showing its ugly head; the thought you had convinced yourself for so long- that you ended up not even being worth their time starting to resurface. 

It had been hard to learn the lessons that were dealt and see the mistakes made on both parts- not just yours, to pick up all the shattered expectations of what a true friendship is, but you had. Now you were able to sort through the wrong sorts and had gotten emotionally and mentally stronger because of it; in many ways, the ending of the friendship helped you realize that there were ways you deserved to be treated, and like shit wasn’t one of them.

However, it almost seemed like all the progress you had made swirled down the drain now that they were in front of you. It was like you were experiencing the heartbreak of them ending the friendship all over again.

“Awww! The poor little hero is still heartbroken after I left her?” their tone patronizing as they jutted out their bottom lip to form an exaggerated pout. “Look at you! I can practically see the desperation on your face- desperate for me to come back? You’ve always been so fucking clingy. But you know, the news has you pinned as like... some kind of saint… no, no. You’re nothing but a selfish attention whore playing the good guy... so I just wanted to stop by and remind you of the truth.” they sneered, really aiming to trigger your trauma. 

You had opened up to them about all your fears; from the smallest to the all-consuming ones, so for them to be targeting you like this… they must have thought that you haven’t changed- and you fucking have. You worked damn hard to do so; You’ve grown and have started appreciating yourself more, started loving yourself more, started working on yourself more. The villain was only targeting your past worries, keyword, past.

Regardless, you were already feeling too much as is and the best thing you could do for yourself right now was to control yourself. 

The urge to take it personally was beyond tempting- to make them suffer as they had done to you, to watch them break right in front of you… But there was a specific way to handle this situation, one you’ve envisioned more than enough, the perfect high route. 

Quickly looking back to see how Kirishima was fairing, you were met with the rock hero in the process of cuffing the other two offenders, allowing you to feel a rush of relief. You turned around and mentally centered yourself. The convict seemed to put together what you were about to do, so without hesitation, they began charging only a second too late.

Taking a breath, the perfect feeling to muddle their prideful feeling down surged through you as you carefully knotted their violent stings together.

It was the feeling you faced when all was said and done after, the outcome you faced after you had gone through confronting all of the trauma that was built up by this person. 

All you felt was emptiness. 

When it hit them, you saw it in their eyes as they stopped in their tracks. No smugness, no pride, no cowardness. Nothing to egg them on and yet nothing to make them feel terrible. Blank. 

Before confusion slithered its way to their consciousness, you took the opportunity and roundhoused them- your efficient ankle sweep knocking their head to the floor, deeming them unconscious.

Crouching to the floor next to their body, you made sure they were breathing before cuffing them and standing back up, turning around you double-check on the scene behind you.

The police furthest from you were tucking the Red Riot’s villains in their cars while the others jogging towards you kept their eyes on the limp body behind you, Kirishima in tow. He looked incredibly tired but couldn’t seem to keep the smile off his face. He felt proud.

A weak smile graces your lips as you try to take a step, only to see your vision blur.

Great. 

The last thing you saw was the panicked look in his eyes as his pace quickened to a run in attempts to catch you. You faded out to the sound of an urgent call of your actual name before your body hit the ground with a thud. 

The next few hours came in slow-paced blinks. 

The first time you opened your eyes post-fight, your body felt heavy… but you were moving. It didn’t take long to realize that you were being carried by the muscular arms that you wake up to every morning. Slowly peeling your eyes open, the sight of his signature spikey red hair reminded you that what had just happened. Your boyfriend, the one who was on the scene with you, had witnessed you overcome one of the people that truly had left damage on you. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring straight ahead; by the way, his fingers curled around your bicep and thighs, it had been tough for him to watch everything that had gone down. 

You tried to call out his name, but it sounded stifled, sounding more like a broken whisper than anything. After another try, he seemed to have heard you, his ears perking up even though all the commotion- or maybe it was just ironic timing. When his red eyes caught the beaming smile you attempted to comfort him with, he tried to mimic it, only you could make out the way his bottom lip quiver. Your eyelids became unbearably heavy and for the second time, unconsciousness took its hold over you.

Blink.

The next time your eyes peeled open, you were being inspected by the all-to-familiar medical team. The inside of the ambulance was much brighter than it was outside, fluorescent lighting causing you to squint. Unnamable hands were touching your head and pulse points. When they noticed your eyes open, they tried to keep you awake as long as possible, the first step was sitting you up on the gurney. The first person you made eye contact with was your designated nurse- the one with the most comforting presence, was that part of her quirk? 

With a kind smile and knowing eyes, she jerked her head in the direction of the person she knew was first to come to mind. Following the movement, your gaze landed on Kirishima, who was standing off to the side and chewing on his nail, arms crossed against his chest. 

Had he already got checked out? Was he okay? 

When he noticed you were staring, he mustered up a small smile and in return, you slightly lifted both your hands to do a loose wave in attempts to warm up his smile. It worked.

“Okay c’mon, you know how these checkups go- you can go be with your boyfriend once we know you’re okay.” your nurse teased, knowing full well that a serious approach wasn’t going to work with you being this drowsy. 

You merely nodded in response, head and eyelids still heavy.

 The rest of the examination went by speedily, you being awake making everything go ten times smoother. After everything was checked and you were clear to go home, the nurses moved to talk to Kirishima as you moved to the edge of the ambulance, waiting for them to finish. 

“I’m so lucky that you’re not only my hero but also a registered caregiver. Well actually… both are pretty super...” You mumbled, trailing off with a lazy smile, lids finally starting to accept the losing battle of staying open. 

“Nooo, you’re lucky that it’s the overuse of your quirk that’s keeping you out of the hospital and not fatal injuries. It’s not manly to push yourself too hard.” he quipped back in a light playful tone; He didn’t miss how hard you were fighting to stay awake. “Baby, can you make it to the car or do you want me to carry you?” 

It was moments like this where you appreciated how comfortable Kirishima made you feel in your relationship; feeling no shame when you revert to a clingy pile of mush. Reaching out, you let your eyes close as you mimic grabby hands to your enormous boyfriend. 

You hear him sigh as he kneels in front of you, opening your eyes in time to catch his broad back muscles shifting, “c’mon love, you need to help me with this bit.”

You clumsily climb on his back and loosely wrap your arms around his neck, standing up with ease. He quickly adjusts you against him to get a better hold on your thighs. Once he begins walking, you let yourself subside back into unconsciousness.

Blink.

You were jolted awake when you felt yourself falling, only for your behind to hit a familiar cushiony surface. Oh right, the car. Before you could fade out once again, you heard Kirishima say something about going to grab the paperwork so the both of you can file your reports later when you wake up. The last thought you were able to think was something along the lines of how incredibly lucky you were to have someone love you so deeply.

Blink.

Waking up to the view of the city lights twinkling below your balcony and the energy of a healthy 8 hours of sleep, you stretch the rest of the drowsiness out of your body till you feel ready to accept the hefty amount of paperwork that’s waiting for you in the other room. 

The only light that illuminated your bedroom was the reflection of the living room lights on the hallway floors. Before getting up, you spared a glance at your nightstand, seeing a glass of water with a note underneath, as predicted; this happened more often than not after a battle. You reach out and take the glass in hand and take a steady sip before letting in more and more water, then reading the messy little note:

 in the livingroom <3 

You smiled at the little doodle he drew- two characters that seem a lot like the two of you, kissing, with a sparkly heart over their heads.

The need to recreate this drawing was growing at an incredible speed.

With newfound determination, you push yourself up from the bed and shuffle to the living room, squinting when the light becomes a little too harsh against your eyes.

Eyes fully closed when you get to the center of the living room, purposely facing the wrong way and trying to suppress a giggle, you try to use the most monotone voice you could muster.

“Kiri - where are you I can’t see.” 

“Your eyes are closed- babe, open your eyes.” 

“No it’s too bright but I saw this cute drawing on the nightstand done by this really talented artist and I must recreate it please recreate it with me.”

You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice came close to your left side.

“Was it a pretty manly drawing?” 

“I would like to think so.”

He was much closer at this point, shifted to somewhere close in front of you right before warm lips were on yours; as quick as the peck came, it was gone in a flash followed by the sound of him plopping down on the couch.

“Wait Eijirou-” you start to pout as you turn in the direction where the couch is, eyes now fully open and set on Kirishima until the shock of pain shot through your nerve endings. 

“Ah, shit! Fuck!…” you wince, lifting your leg to hug your newly stubbed toe.

Kirishima is back by your side in an instant, really trying to suppress his laugh but doing a terrible job.

“You’re such a jerk for laughing,” you pout, giving your best attempt of a proper shove… and he didn’t even budge. 

There was a moment of complete silence then the booming of your boyfriend’s boisterous laughs bouncing off the walls. Rolling your eyes, you limped over to the spot on the couch where he was previously sitting, and as the cushion beside you dips, you sigh. 

The sight in front of you was a disheveled mess. Scribbled on papers were thrown about- most were filled out but there were a few that were blank, pens and highlighters could be spotted under and over random reports.

“I did most of the reports… but I didn’t know if you wanted to fill out yours… because of who you were fighting.” he slowly stated, as if he were walking on eggshells. You could tell that he was holding back from hitting the main issue. 

Was this something you were ready to unbiasedly talk about? Kirishima knew most of the details, but he also realized that you probably wanted to talk about it more now that you’ve not only seen them after all this time but had to fight them. 

With another sigh, you let your head fall into your palms- your elbows digging into your thighs- and you roughly rub your eyes before coming up for a new breath of air. 

“My heart was pounding…” you started, attempting to prepare for the unwanted wave of grief, but as you trailed off, oddly enough, it never came. 

When reflecting on the fight, you remembered the range of emotions you felt, but now… you just felt… empty- which was ironic. No sadness, longing, anxiety… if anything, with your caring redhead staring at you with the roundest eyes, you felt at ease. 

“But honestly? I don’t really feel much right now. Like I can say that when looking back, I think I handled myself in the best way possible- they don’t deserve to have that satisfaction of creating a rise out of me, and quite frankly… I’m tired, Ei. I’m so tired of letting them have that hold on me. I don’t deserve that kind of pain. As much as I am a hero, I need to think about myself as a person and there’s only so much I can endure. My mental and emotional health comes first.” 

After saying all of that, there was a slight hint of relief that flooded your system; you already began to feel lighter.

“I’m so proud of you. I know that must have been really hard to face but you did it, and you were so good about it,” he whispered as he reached out for your thigh. 

Accepting his comfort, you sucked in another breath and smiled up at him. He held and returned your smile for a couple of seconds before slightly leaning in, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Would it be alright if I.. kiss you?” it was such a heart-warming gesture, how he was making sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

“More than alright,” you whisper, barely getting out the last word because of how quickly the gap between you two closed. The kiss was comfort in the rawest form; his pace was slow, his large hand cupping your jaw as his tongue invaded your mouth. You were following his pace, your eyes coming to a close, melting into a relaxed state for what seemed like the first time today. 

Keeping the kiss light, he pulled away shortly, but not before placing a lingering peck on your lips, then one on your forehead and whispering, “I made you a snack. You’re probably hungry right now so I prepared you a little something filling. And while you eat, I’m gonna run a bath with some Epsom salt and lavender oil, does that sound good?” 

Overwhelming gratitude washed over you. Words couldn’t possibly measure even the bare minimum of the love you have for Kirishima Eijirou, and yet you managed to string a soft, “You are the most wonderful person in the world, and I… Eijirou I love you so much.” 

His eyes became a little teary as he looked down at you, a wobbly smile in place before whispering a returning “I love you,” before heading into the bathroom to run the water in your massive tub. 

As the thundering sound of the water filling the tub echo through your apartment, you get up and rummage the fridge to find a plate of adorably cut red apples with a glob of peanut butter off to the side. 

“Baby do you want tea?” You call out just loud enough, “I’m gonna brew that green tea with the toasted rice!” 

He came into the kitchen looking big and confused, “what did you say, baby?”

“Green tea?”

“Oh yes, please,” he said, leaning in and planting a kiss to your temple before turning back to the bathroom. 

“Kiri? Can you put on the house shows on the tv? I forgot what channel they were on.”

You didn’t need to turn around to hear tv turn on; a shout of thanks was called out before you took a bite of your snack.

It felt all very domestic, something you never thought could happen to you. Your childhood was a montage of quirk abuse, being emotionally used, following the same types of toxic people, and never learning your lesson. It all flipped somewhere in your twenties- you began to realize the pattern after being shown the kindness the world could offer. No longer world you put up with bullshit like that. You knew better now and Eijirou always reminded you of that. 

You were halfway through one of your favorite flipping shows when Kirishima came in shirtless, letting you know the bath was ready, “Okay my love, it’s ready. Take your time, I‘ll be in the tub.”

You stripped on your way to the bathroom, leaving all your clothes on the bench in the bedroom before padding into the warm-tiled bathroom.

The view you stepped in on was delicious; your huge boyfriend taking up most of the tub, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Gee red, you’re so sexy.” you aimed to tease, but your words came out a bit strained. He chuckles before turning to face you and groaning your name, “hurry up and come in here.”

And it’s then when you’re submerged in all the heat and laying against your boyfriend’s warmth, do you remember that life is what you make it to be. Never accept anything less than the love and care you deserve.

Blink.

[jayflrt]

Alice I hope you don't mind me ranting a bit I'm just really upset like ndnsnsn I have health issues that have persisted for a while and they were getting better when I found out I was gluten intolerant and have a bunch of other food allergies but no matter how hard I try to cut them out I still end up feeling sick at the end of the day. Like today Im having acid reflux and my stomach hurts and I feel nauseous and lowkey dizzy and like that doesn't even correspond with how I react to my allergies and Idk I just feel sick all the time and it's so upsetting 😭 it's a silly thing but one of my fears is throwing up idk why but when my stomach hurts nearly all day every day it's jusr so anxiety inducing and as a result I just feel stressed and scared all the time and my mom and my friends try to help but ultimately I feel like the whole feeling better thing is impossible and Idk 😭😭😭😭 it's been extra bad today and it's just so draining mentally to put up with this I just had to get this out 😭

oh my gosh kelsey i had no idea you were going through something like that 😭 im so sorry, that must be so hard to deal with :(( also i don't mind at all so don't worry about that !! also im sorry i was trying to do my research as i was typing out this ask so i apologize if im all over the place! gluten is in a lot of foods so it must be rlly difficult to stick to a strict gluten-free diet :// it's really hard to feel positive about something when it's hindering your daily life like that :( did your doctor say you could get treated for it and reduce its effects somehow ??

i read that there's an enzyme called AN-PEP that blocks gluten before it reaches the small intestine so taking a tablet containing it would allow you to consume gluten without experiencing the effects of it !! maybe you could check with your healthcare provider/doctor beforehand but i found some links where you can buy these supplements and i made sure to find ones that have good reviews !! (but reminder to check with your doctor first!)

i found this one called GliadinX and the ppl who have celiac disease/gluten intolerant in the reviews say they've always had fatigue, headaches, nausea, bloating, and stomachaches when consuming gluten but after consuming gluten after taking the pill, they didn't experience any symptoms ! one person said she had light nausea for a while but it passed quickly

this one called Gluten Relief helps you digest gluten and the reviews are very promising too !!

this one called GlutenEase also has good reviews about how well it works !!

so i chose the top three ranked ones, but i think GliadinX is by far the most effective and best in helping with gluten intolerance :'') and apparently has the highest concentration and most effective formulation of AN-PEP !! ♡ i hope this could be of help tho kelsey and i hope things get better :(( 💝

[just-messing-around]

How people seemingly view mukbangs: We come to watch attractive people consume very large amounts of unhealthy foods, sometimes we want them to eat very sloppily and messily.

Me: I thought that they originally where meant to be videos where the viewers watch a video of a person eating a meal and talking to the camera to simulate a social meal when they can't eat with their friends or family or something?!

If I had a 'mukbang' channel, it would just be normal meals. Like?

'I'm not gonna eat so much that my stomach hurts. The point of my videos is to encourage me to cook meals for the videos instead of grabbing quick, unhealthy things, to hopefully improve my health and eating habits, and to attempt to give people who can't eat meals with their friends or family a less...lonely experience? So let's talk and eat ❤'

Talking = me talking to the camera and people putting things they want to say in the comments or something.

I wouldn't want to watch myself messily consume large amounts of food that would be stretching my stomach to its limits, so why would I think other people would want to see me do that?

Idk, maybe I could make 2 meals and put one of them in front of the camera, but still in view of the camera, so it could be like a 'pov' thing where it can look like the viewers are sitting at the table with me?

Wasn't that what those videos where originally supposed to be? Like 'people can't sit down and eat with their friends and family as much, so maybe this can simulate a social meal situation until they're capable to eating with their loved ones' or something?

But I couldn't really call it 'mukbang', because people would be expecting me to eat so much that my stomach rips in half or something. So maybe? I'd title my videos as something like?

'Let's eat', then insert the topic I'd be talking about?

'Let's eat; my day', 'Let's eat; I've been going to the gym', 'Let's eat; I have art block', things like that?

Maybe I wouldn't get a lot of clicks or subscribers, therefore, not be able to make money, but if I was simply doing it as a hobby or something, it wouldn't matter, right?

Plus, when I die, my loved ones would be able to go to my old channel and watch them to feel somewhat close to me when I'm gone, right? O_O; 😬

But I'd probably never do it, because I most likely wouldn't want to put my face on the internet like that in fear that shít I did in the past would be brought up.

'Oh, my ex girlfriend is getting popular (if I became popular)? I have negative feelings for her now, so let me tell you about how she used to be several years ago.'

'Oh, this girl? Let me tell you about that one time when she kicked the shít out of her bully on the playground when she was about 8 or 9.'

'Oh, yeah, her. Wanna know about a crazy melt down she went through at school when she was younger?'

'Oh, hey, my ex. I'M GONNA POST NÜDES OF HER THAT I CONVINCED HER TO SEND ME BACK WHEN SHE TRUSTED ME!' JFC, those kinds of people are such DOÜCHBAGS and I hope I never experience that shít!!

Anyways-

I would constantly have anxiety that things I've done in the past, but learned and grew from would come back and be used against me and people would think that I was still the same person from the old stories. But it's not like I could give people the 'let's have a happy meal together' experience while wearing a mask or something, so what would I do?

Uhg, the idea of becoming popular or even famous is so fücking anxiety inducing. I don't understand how people could crave fame when literally everyone has done bad things in their past that could be used to get people to bully or harass them or something.

I just wish I could provide people with the feelings mukbangs where meant to provide without having to reveal my face and constantly fear drama, bullying, harassment, ect. Because I can't watch mukbangs without seeing huge amounts of food and getting nauseous from the thought of what it would feel like to put all of that in my stomach.

I have never finished a mukbang video because of that.