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#hope this is okay for you :3
triona-tribblescore · 3 months
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okay so they may have a minor chokehold on me at the minute-
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lilybug-02 · 24 days
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Pain is a great motivator…
Part 26 || First || Previous || Next…
—Full Series—
Meanwhile Toriel:
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(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)
Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!
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queerdraws · 7 months
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projecting on luffy again. get bited.
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datcravat · 3 days
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pe ru so na
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thevidaren · 2 years
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Adam and Eve? More like
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gotchibam · 6 months
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Nidoran (FTM) ko-fi doodle for Kris!
I'm accepting pokemon ko-fi doodle requests here! ✨
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wellwaterhysteria · 15 days
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gasolina + (another) ode to horror movies.
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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also also!!!!!! peter x clumsy!reader might be the best pairing. because his spidey senses ugh he’s always catching you before you trip. like an arm around your back and then he dips you down to be dramatic and you get all flustered. and!!! if you’re not in arms reach he definitely shoots a web at you to pull you into his chest before you can do any damage. you both have several heart attacks a day because you’re such a klutz.
I am always on the peter x clumsy reader agenda!! they are so special to me!!! also the thing you said about him catching you and dipping you down omg I could die.
fem!reader 0.7k words
You’re still in the process of patching yourself up when Peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big Band-Aids waiting for you on the coffee table. You were hoping to be done by the time he got home, to save him the worry. No such luck. You hear the front door open and you don’t have time to hide your fresh wounds, your evidence of yet another accident.
You’re sure you look quite pathetic when Peter emerges in the doorway.
“Hi, dove! I missed— are you bleeding?” His smile drops and so does his bag. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off. He strides across the room and gets to his knees in front of you. His hands find your thighs, thumbs just shy of your fresh scrapes.
“Oh, honey,” he coos. He’s not shocked, at least. You think maybe it’s happened so many times it doesn’t phase him anyway more.
His eyebrows pinch together as he scowls at your poor knees, his hands squeezing your thighs. He gives your injuries a once over before lifting his head to look at you sadly. “What happened?”
You frown. “Tripped in the driveway,” you admit moodily. “I’m fine, really. Looks worse than it feels.”
Peter huffs morosely, “I wish I was there when it happened. Could’ve caught you, baby.”
You melt. You’re endeared by his care for you. You smile at him and reach out to push his hair from his forehead, his curls soft under your fingers. You drag your hand down the side of his head, fingers heavy, and let your palm rest over his cheek. Peter’s eyelids flutter under your touch.
“It’s okay, Pete,” you tell him brightly. “You can’t win ‘em all.”
Peter laughs, his smile blinding. “Thanks, babe.” He twists his head so he can kiss your palm, a warm press of his soft, wind-bitten lips. “Let’s get you patched up now, hm?”
Peter patches up your knees, hands gentle as he cleans your wounds and presses Band-Aids over them. He’s a practiced hand, having done this plenty of times, on your legs, elbows, fingers, you name it. Though you must admit, you’re far less prone to accidents with Peter around. He catches you more times than he doesn’t. Today was just bad timing.
When Peter’s done fixing you up he lays a kiss on each of your knees, over your fresh white Band-Aids.
“All fixed,” he says happily, sliding his hand up your thigh to give your hip a squeeze.
You beam and cover his hands with yours. “Thanks, Peter.”
Peter stands and pulls you up with him. Your knees sting, but only a little, and it’s nothing you’re not used to.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, head ducked so he can meet your eyes, his hair tumbling into the space between your heads. “I can get you some ice, if you like?”
You shake your head. You’d much rather have him stay this close forever. “I’m okay, Pete.”
Peter still looks unconvinced, a frown tugging at his lips. He thinks for a second, then, “Do you want a hug? ‘Cos I know I do.”
You giggle. You’d kill for a hug right now. “Sure.”
You push your arms under his and he circles you in his strong hold, pulling you as close as he can to his chest. He’s careful to avoid your knees bumping his, legs moving so yours are between his. You push your face into his firm chest and breathe him in, his smells, his cologne and the wind on his clothes and that lovely scent he carries around with him everywhere, like old books and coffee shops.
Peter’s face falls into your neck and he sighs, practically melting into you, latching onto you like glue. He’s warm and he’s soft and he’s Peter. The pain in your knees is completely unnoticeable when he’s holding you like this.
“My poor, clumsy girl,” he says eventually, mostly fond, but there’s a whisper of cheek that you don’t miss.
You scowl into his chest. “M’not clumsy,” you whine, though you definitely are and you both know it. “The pavement is uneven.”
Peter pulls back, his big hands on your upper arms. He’s smiling like an idiot. “It is?”
You nod fervently. “Yeah. S’why I tripped.”
Peter nods slowly like you’re telling the truth, like the pavement in the driveway isn’t perfectly even.
“Stupid pavement,” he says.
You giggle and hide your face in his chest again.
-
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teethkid67 · 1 month
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PAYDAY
aka a valentine for the lovely @itsnotmystic / @corvids-calling - fanart for stars fic of the same name, which you can read here !!! i really enjoyed this concept and wanted to do some art for it :3 hope you like it because i REALLY loved your work & i hope this shows that !!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY !!!!
this is also a loose love-letter to the wonderful @arginnit 's crazy background-drawing-ability and style/skill at portraying environments . wadds your stuff is insane and i love it
happy @mcyt-valentines exchange !!!!
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etherealyoungk · 8 months
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━☆ first kiss with seventeen: wonwoo
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♡ first kiss with seventeen series ♡ masterlist ♡
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paring: wonwoo x reader
warnings: kissing, fluff
wordcount: 1.1k
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you've always been a romantic. okay, maybe a hopeless romantic. and reading all the romance books that you did definitely did not help at all. in fact, it made you even more hopeless.
and with all the kiss scenes you read, it only made you wonder what it would be like to kiss wonwoo. you and him had taken things slow and you were more than happy. but once in a while the thought of wanting to kiss wonwoo, a real kiss crept up into your mind. you'd made up countless scenarios in your head about it and just thinking about it made you want to kick your feet in the air and punch a pillow. so how exactly did you end up being pinned to the wall by wonwoo?
it's only when you come back to your room after having to go receive a parcel that you find the book that you were reading in wonwoo's hands. normally you wouldn't mind but you had stopped midway during a kiss scene, and somehow the thought of wonwoo reading that made you shy for no reason. you observe wonwoo as he reads the words on the pages and he looks up, noticing you. “i didn’t realize kisses in books were so dreamy”, he says as he hands the book over to you when you step closer to him.
“yeah, they kinda are. some of them are really cute and sweet”, you say, trying not to sound like a hopeless romantic as you tell wonwoo. “some are really really cute”, you emphasize, sitting down, thinking about all the cute kiss scenes you’ve practically engraved in your mind. “do you want to recreate it?”, he asks, without skipping a beat, making you blink up at him, processing what he just said.
“what?”, you ask again and he pushes his glasses up his nose bashfully before repeating, “do you want to recreate it, the kiss scene?”.
you blink up at him like a deer caught in headlights and the thought of it makes you smile but you try to hold it in. but wonwoo doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth lift up.
“love?”, he prompts again tilting his head to the side as he observes you.
“really?”, you finally ask softly as you stand up. and he nods. “tell me baby, anything you want”, he encourages, noticing how shy you’ve suddenly gotten.  so wonwoo decides to take matters into his own hands.
wonwoo reaches out his hand and takes the book from your hands, opening the page to the kiss scene he read earlier. his brows are slightly furrowed as he reads the scene and then looks back up at you. he puts the book back down on the bed before walking over to the door. “what are you-“, you don’t finis your sentence as wonwoo proceeds to lean against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.
“hi”, he says, saying the same line the character in the book had said. you let out a soft laugh as you walk closer to wonwoo, standing in front of him. “hi”, you say and he smiles sweetly back at you. he moves off the doorframe and steps closer to you, reaching out as his arms caress your waist, gently pulling you closer towards him. and before you know it, wonwoo spins you around and pinned against the wall.
“wonwoo”, is all you can mumble as you look at him, before breaking eye contact and looking down, getting flustered. he was so close, so so close that you were pretty sure wonwoo could hear how fast your heart was beating right now. his thumb brushes against your chin as he tilts your head up to look at him. “you’re making me nervous”, you mumble in a whisper as your hands lay loosely around his neck. his hand moves up to cup your cheek as his thumb gently caresses your cheek softly looking at you, never once breaking eye contact, which was making you even more nervous.
“am i doing okay as the role of a book boyfriend so far?”, he asks and you almost chuckle at his questions. “y-yeah you’re doing exceptionally well”, you reply softly, getting distracted by the sight of his lips that are so so close.
“someone’s getting impatient i see”, he teases you, when he sees where your gaze is, making you bite your lip and give him a small glare, which makes him chuckle.
he leans in and your eyes flutter shut, and you’re waiting in anticipation but it’s only when you peek one eye open that you see wonwoo is looking at you with a stupid silly smile on his face.
“wonwoo!”, you whine, protesting. “baby, you’re so cute right now”, is all he tells before pecking your cheek. “i'm just doing what i read, trying to act out a book boyfriend now and you’re going to get mad at me?”, he asks playfully.
“but that wasn’t in the scene, you’re just being a tease”, you complain and the sound of his chuckle is like music to your ears, you can’t even be mad anymore.
he kisses your cheek again and looks at you before finally closing the gap between your lips as he kisses you. it’s a gentle, soft kiss and he pulls away a little too soon for your liking, making you pout in confusion.
“that wasn’t a kiss”, you tell and he just looks at you. “care to show me how a kiss is then?”, he asks softly, whispering against your lips and that’s all you need to pull wonwoo forward by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. he slowly moves his lips against yours and if wonwoo wasn’t holding you, you’re sure that you’d melt in his arms right that moment. his hand encircles your waist tighter, pulling you closer as he kisses you a little deeper, with a dizzying passion.  his lips were soft against yours and when you pull away, you were breathing a bit hard, trying to catch your breath as you look at wonwoo, who was still so close to you, his nose brushing against yours.
“so", he starts. "how would you rate me on a scale of one to ten for being a book boyfriend”, he asks, making you smile as you lean your head back against the wall, looking up at him.
“eleven out of ten, you make the perfect book boyfriend….and the best part? you’re all mine”, you tell and he grins, leaning in to capture your lips once again.
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taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @joshuaahong @slytherinshua @fairyhaos @rubywonu @wqnwoos @wheeboo @icyminghao @kyeomyun @minhui896 @gam3bo1z @graybaeismytae @musingsofananxiouspotato @thehao8 @cheiyoma @keiyx @novalpha @fallingforshua29 @txtandroll @nishloves @kokoiinuts @writingsbybirdie @hauvits @jennimisu @dahliatopia @prpldahy @ryujineebae @onedumbho3 @weird-bookworm @yo-wassup-boi @idubiluv and @odxrilove - tysm for beta reading this for me <3
drop an ask or comment if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!
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kentoangel · 2 months
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❤︎ ˖  ݁ . 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝒾𝓃𝓀
after the first time you and sukuna ryomen have sex, he buys you pastries from the bakery around the corner
part of the mine to love and adore series 𝜗𝜚
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cw, minors do not interact ⋆ ࣪ ˖ fem reader (you wear a nightgown), he calls you pretty girl + doll. mention of cigarettes. food (coffee, pastries). oral (reader receiving). fingering
xoxo, roma ⭑ though this is part of an anthology series, it can be read as a standalone! but i recommend you check out the first part (really very short) lmao! hope you adore it as much as i adored writing it, hehe >~< mwah ノ word count is 1.6k
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sukuna ryomen feels out of place in your bedroom.
it is most likely because he is a complete stranger in your home, though he theorizes it might also be because the entirety of your bedroom is incredibly soft, nothing like him but everything like you (this is another thing he theorizes, that you are soft and angelic and heaven sent).
your pillowcases and bedsheets are the color of pearls, made out of silk that is kind to your body. varying paintings are hung on your walls (though some laze on the floor) and have a thing in common — they talk of tenderness, a sweet sort of love. healthy plants are aligned by your massive windows, drinking the rays of light the sun gifts them. books that have been loved over the years are scattered about — bookmarks sticking out, sticky notes to the side.
and then, of course, there is you.
your cheek is squished by your pillow, your mouth is slightly agape. your pink nightgown rises up due to your position (one leg propped on a pillow) and exposes your light blue panties. the golden sunlight that streams through your massive windows and feeds your plants creates a halo atop your head, makes you look otherworldly.
one night with you and he feels like a goner, like you’ve consumed him and left remnants of yourself on him: a lipstick stain on his collarbone and another one on his ribcage, the scent of your perfume all over him, scratch marks on his back, a hickey on his chest.
and the sight of you like this — angelic, soft, ethereal — is not of much help.
he slowly stands from your silk bed, cringes when the wooden floor creaks under his weight, and looks over at you — still fast asleep.
quickly, quietly, he gets changed into yesterday’s clothing and walks out of your room and ventures into your kitchen — where a half empty tequila bottle, two shot glasses, squeezed limes, and salt rest on the countertop. his leather jacket is slung over one of your barstools, pack of cigarettes peeking out of the pocket.
he grabs the box and opens it to find your cigarette, marked with the same lipstick shade you had left on his body.
sukuna ryomen had planned on leaving first thing today as you hummed in bliss into his chest last night — had planned to forget about you, rid himself of you in a cold shower. scrub away your lipstick and scent from his body, the image of you under him from his mind.
but you reel him in.
he grabs his jacket and his motorcycle helmet from your entryway table and heads out of your pretty apartment — thinks about last night, about you; the way you had giggled and he had smiled as he plopped his motorcycle helmet onto your head. how you had wrapped your arms around his waist as you told him this was only your third time on a motorcycle. how you had talked over the wind to tell him your favorite bakery was right there.
you reel him in.
and he has only spent one night with you.
he drives to the bakery around the corner, waits in line, asks for one of everything because you had not mentioned what your favorite sweet from their menu was. only that you adored going there before work, that you liked buying a little something for your coworkers at the art gallery, too.
you had told him all of that in front of your apartment building, as you took his motorcycle helmet off and smiled. giggled in that tipsy way you probably always do. and all he could do was smile, stare like some sort of idiot, as you talked to him because god did it feel like you were handing him a moonbeam.
you reel him in.
there’s a moment of doubt, though, once he stands in front of the door to your home with a paper brown bag of pastries in his hand.
sukuna ryomen has never once bought pastries for a hookup — though calling you a hookup feels wrong — and has only cooked breakfast for three previous situationships. but cooking in your apartment felt like an invasion of privacy and you’ve only just met.
he twists the knob. lets out a breath when he realizes it’s locked. knocks with a little uncertainty.
you make him act unlike him.
when you open the door, your smile is tinged with drowse but you rub the sleep out of your eyes. make your pink nightgown ride up, expose your underwear yet again.
“can i be honest?” your voice is kind of raspy. alluring — but what part of you isn’t?
“only if you let me come in.”
you move to the side and he takes note of the coffee you’ve put to brew. the one mug that is out.
“to be honest, you don’t seem like the type of guy to stick around.”
ouch.
but you’ve hit the nail on the head.
“how could i stray from you, pretty girl?”
you close the door, lean your back against it, let the sunlight that streams through your windows consume you — let the shadows of the leaves dance upon your flesh and nightgown.
sukuna ryomen takes you in — the hickey on your inner thigh that peeks out from your nightgown, the way your eyes glimmer in the sunlight, your swollen lips.
you’re a dream clad in pink, an angel.
and he truly does feel like a goner, like a lost cause.
and you — your chest tightens, you bite your lip to suppress a silly smile, even though you had been so carefree last night. “you sure do know how to get to a girl, day or night, huh?”
he grins. “only to you, doll.”
you walk toward him, hum in appreciation for the bag in his hands — as if your cheeks weren’t scorching, as if being in his presence didn’t ignite you.
“hmm, i’m glad you stuck around.”
in your pretty kitchen, with you, everything feels right — and so he mounts you onto your countertop and gets in between your legs, makes you giggle as if he had done this a thousand times. as if it’s the most natural thing in the universe.
“i’ve never tried this one,” you tell him, take a stuffed croissant from the paper bag and bite into it. the cream puffs out and you lick at the corner of your lip.
“is it any good?”
“mhm,” you respond, “wanna try some?”
“not really a fan of sweets.”
“oh, yeah — we talked about this last night. you’re also not a fan of coffee with milk, but i think that’s just performative.”
he smirks, leans in to kiss away the sweetness from your lips. grips your hip with one hand, makes you lightly moan, smile, cup his face with your empty hand and he almost combusts.
“sorry about what i said earlier,” you tell him in between the kiss, “and i really appreciate all the pastries you got me.”
“don’t worry about it, pretty girl.”
hands that are usually rough — hands you have seen beat the pulp out of another man — are tender with you. he gently gropes your thighs, slides his hands up your nightgown as he kisses you — kisses that taste like the mint from the gum he had been chewing, like the pastry you had been eating.
you thrust your hips up a little, disregard the croissant into the paper brown bag.
“let me have you for breakfast, pretty girl,” he grips your hips and pulls you toward him as you lick the stuffing from the croissant from your fingers in a haste, smile etched onto your face until it melts into —
“oh, god — sukuna!”
he flattens his tongue on your blue panties, on your core, and licks up. swirls his tongue over your clit and you can’t help but thrust into his mouth, tangle your fingers in the pink mess of his hair and pull him in a little closer.
“but don’t be a tease, ‘kuna and eat — ”
he cuts you off by moving your underwear to the side with his index finger, by delving his tongue properly into your cunt. he rubs circles on your bud like you had told him you liked last night and he makes you see the stars hidden by the sun.
and sukuna ryomen sees the gates of heaven.
the coffee brews, the sun burns at his back, his cold fingers find the warmth of your pussy and he sucks on your clit. looks up at you, etches your face into his memory — one he won’t (cannot) scrub away.
you reel him in.
he dips his fingers in and out, in and out at the pace he learned you liked it — pays equal attention to your clit, looses himself in the way you taste.
“c’mon, pretty girl. you’re doing so well for me, let yourself go.”
and you do — let him guide you through your orgasm on your pretty kitchen’s countertop.
he cleans you up, buries his face in between your legs and gropes your thighs. squishes them on either side of his head as you moan from the pleasure he brings you.
you hum when he stands, breathe heavily, smile dreamily.
“you’re too sweet for me, doll.”
he kisses you — needs you to taste yourself, needs to prove that you are better than a pastry or the coffee that is brewing or liquid sunlight.
and when he kisses you to prove his point in your tiny kitchen, when he can properly see you under the sunlight, all his theories are proven true. correct.
you are soft, angelic, heaven sent.
and he wants to believe you were sent to him, regardless of everything.
“you’re perfectly sweet.���
he bites at your bottom lip and you laugh.
“i didn’t know you were so cheesy.”
and he is not, but you’ve got him all messed up. wishing, hoping, praying for a spot in heaven by your side.
“only for you, doll.”
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thank you for reading huhu ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა ending was a bit rushed, so i apologize for that
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b1gwings · 4 months
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maybe i have a favorite song from the taz soundtrack
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lightseoul · 9 months
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you're losing me
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synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.
cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing
word count. 2.5k words
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“Where is everybody?”
You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.
“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”
You merely hum in response.
A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.
“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”
At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”
You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”
You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”
“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”
You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.
“Okay.”
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You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.
It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.
“You alright?” you ask.
He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”
Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.
“What is it?”
At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.
And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.
“Y/N.”
At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.
He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.
He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”
That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.
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You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.
You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.
“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”
Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.
“Where am I?” you ask.
“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”
“Seriously?”
He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”
And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.
“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”
“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”
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You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.
Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.
“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.
He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.
You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”
“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”
“Okay.”
You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.
He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.
Since when did he get so hesitant with you?
“I’ll go then,” he announces.
And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.
Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.
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The days after are unremarkably the same.
He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.
On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.
Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.
You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.
And so you rarely see him.
But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.
Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.
Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.
Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.
Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.
Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”
He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.
“Nightmare,” he croaks.
At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”
A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”
The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—
“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”
Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.
He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.
“Okay.”
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The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.
Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:
Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.
Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.
Still, maybe he needs this night out.
You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.
With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.
Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.
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You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.
You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.
Huh.
You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”
“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”
“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”
Your Katsuki? Drunk?
For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.
“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”
“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”
When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”
“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.
“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”
Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.
“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”
“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
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You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.
Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.
You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.
“We’re here, Kats.”
At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.
Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.
“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”
You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.
A moment passes before he speaks again.
“My mom made me do it, you know.”
You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”
“Propose to you.”
“Oh.”
He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”
You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”
He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”
Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.
“It was stupid of me, though.”
Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”
He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.
“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”
“Katsuki.”
“You can do way be—”
“Katsuki!”
He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.
You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.
“Look at me.”
He does so.
“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”
Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.
“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
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Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
He thinks you don’t want to marry him.
Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.
You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.
And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.
You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.
Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.
You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.
“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.
He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”
At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”
He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.
A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”
Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.
You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”
He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”
“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”
At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”
“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”
At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.
“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”
Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.
“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”
He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”
At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”
You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.
“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”
Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.
“Not if I propose to you first.”
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tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19
as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3
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upperranktwo · 5 months
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It's not Zen'in? I'm glad.
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delizbin · 2 months
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Effie’s first year as an escort was… interesting! Life threatens aside (and some death here and there), the parties and dresses were nice :)
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recents · 6 months
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so we all know astarion was named after the minotaur of greek myth, who, despite widely known as the minotaur (“bull of minos”), was named astarion/asterion (“starry one”) by his mother at birth. asterion the minotaur was trapped in a labyrinth and cursed to devour virginal men and women thrown in there as sacrifices.
”The House of Asterion” is a 1947 short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges that retells the story of the minotaur from the minotaur’s point of view. it’s one of his best early short stories and it’s very short, only 3 pages long. you can read it here.
borges is in my top 3 favorite writers of all time, and “The House of Asterion” obviously deserves to be considered on its own merits, so i feel slightly irreverent connecting this text to a recent video game. but i reread this short story today and there was much to think about, there were many more seeds planted in my mind in terms of interpretations of the minotaur myth and how asterion the minotaur relates to the story of astarion the vampire. i think it will for you, too.
anyway. if you don’t click through and read it, please at least read how it ends, remembering, of course, that the speaker is asterion the minotaur:
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:)
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