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fleur-bbyy · 1 year

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cw fem!reader

it was rare to have a lazy morning with bakugo.

mornings were usually cold. waking up alone in the bed that was usually shared. his side neatly made up and empty besides the sweet message written on a post-it and a few flowers picked from your front yard. you never minded having to clean up any stray petals or leaves from the sheets. always just appreciating the kind gesture.

you always relished in mornings like this one. when he didn't have to work or didn't leave early to get a workout in. awakening to the soft sound of rain hitting the window and your legs still entangled with the blond's sleeping next to you. your fingers traced up and down his torso. tracing the scars he'd accumulated from his line of work. his usual scowl was replaced by a soft look of content as he slept. it relaxed you to know that he was getting some well-deserved rest.

you carefully began to untangle your legs from his and the sheets. trying your hardest not to wake him in your efforts to get out of bed. slowly removing the arm that was lazily slung over your body gave you the freedom to finally sit up and stretch. raising your arms up above your head and arching your back, causing the oversized shirt you wore to ride up your legs. you jumped when you felt a hand creep up your thigh.

“sorry to wake you, kats. muscles were gettin’ stiff.”

“you didn’t. y’know I can’t sleep in past eight.” you turned over your shoulder to look at him. taking in the sight of him. the arm that wasn’t caressing your leg was thrown over his forehead to shield his face from the light, but you could still see the peak of one of his carmine eyes looking up at you.

you removed that hand that was rubbing circles on your thigh and hopped up from the bed. stretching your legs as you walked over to the edge of the bed to pick up the shorts you discarded before lying down last night.

“how’d you sleep?”

“like a damn rock.” you giggled and looked up at him after you finished tightening the knot on your shorts. he donned a boyish grin, you knew he had watched you dress yourself. sending him a little wink before turning on your heel to head towards the door.

“where’re you goin’?”

“making you breakfast. never have time to do that unless I start cooking at two in the morning.”

“fuck that. come ‘ere.” you spin around to look at him. crossing your arms as you leaned on the doorframe that lead to the hallway.

“you’re really gonna deny breakfast in bed?”

“‘m not denying nothing. just want my beautiful girl to stay with me. that a crime?” you rolled your eyes at the question. shoulder still planted against the doorframe until he outstretched his arm towards you and curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“ugh. fine, but i’m not staying for long. not making breakfast in the evening.” he didn’t respond, just smiled that dazzling smile as you crawled back into bed. cuddling up against him and once again finding peace in being able enjoy his presence this morning. still listening to the rain softly hit the window above the bed.

“ten more minutes?”

“…yeah, ten more minutes can’t hurt.”

#this is very short but i’m craving domesticity #inspired by stories told by my art teacher her and her husband have a very lovely and stable relationship #-fleur-bby #bakugo katsuki #mha #bakugo x reader #bakugo drabble #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine

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oikvw · 4 months

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love that igeyorhm gets exclusive cousin rights to scold lahabrea

#ffxiv #lahabrea #igeyorhm #endwalker #inspired by the short story cousin reveal #my art #forgot to crosspost. teehee

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tekomerc · 2 years

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welcome back to my old cringe fail vampire au thing. in this episode-

#tf2 #tf2 ocs #vmp team #i'm stuck in doodle mode maybe it's a warm up for greater times #long story short blus are vampires (except for scout - he's an accident) and reds are human vampire hunters (except for sniper who's also a #werewolf on top of that yay)#and it's not serious at all i got ironically inspired by twilight back then.#as a joke #in retrospect it was more like wwdits except not as funny #teko art

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intotherabithole · 6 months

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Maribat Mix & Match Monster Mash

GRAVE

Prompt:"I'd like to take a bite out of you."

“I’ve never really celebrated Halloween before.” Kagami stated as she finished covering Cass in green body paint.

“Same…,” Cass adjusted so Kagami could work on the details on her skin. “My bothers showed me scary movies.” Kagami nodded but was focused on adding fake blood to her skin.

They both decided they wanted to celebrate Halloween together. Cass had been learning about how to scare people for the holiday and wanted to help Alfred out with handing out candies. Jason said the trick is just as important as the treat, so together they came up with a plan.

Kagami was glad to help. She wanted to truly experience Halloween with friends. “I need to move in closer.” She warned Cass as she adjusted to lean in closer to paint the details on her face. At some point they had adjusted to where Kagami was sitting on Cass as she laid back. Neither reacted to their closeness, they just enjoyed the quit as she work on her make up.

Their faces were only a few inches apart when Cass barely whispered “I’d like to take a bite out of you.”

Kagami suddenly became very aware of their bodies. The warmth of her underneath her and her own face burning. She froze taking everything in and the implications of her words. Her thoughts were broken as Cass spoke again, “I should paint a bite mark.” She pointed to Kagami’s exposed arm.

All the tension between them left in that moment. “Yes, that’s a good idea.” She smiled down at her as she added the finishing touches. They finished each other’s make up sharing few words, but relaxing in each other’s company.

…

After all their hard work they waited in the grave yard outside the manor for trick-or-treaters. As soon as Cass heard the first group of kids approaching, she popped out of the dirt of an empty grave. Reaching her arm out at the children trying to make her best zombie noises. As she continues to crawl out of the grave Kagami drags herself through the grave yard calling for help and clutching her bleeding arm.

In no time all children run away screaming. Cass has already pulled her self halfway out of the grave. Kagami looks over to her with slight concern, “Did we do this… Halloween right?”

Cass shrugged in response before continuing to pull herself out of the dirt.

“Isn’t there supposed to be treats,” Kagami was still puzzled by this Halloween plan.

“I do believe you have scared away all the children before they could get candy.” Alfred stated, coming out of nowhere.

#mm&mmm2023 #maribat #mlbxdc #dcxmlb #kagamixcass #artists on tumblr #the story is rush and short #ive been working on art for this event all month #hoping this event will help inspire me to write again

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reifromrfa · 11 months

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Short fic: Mafia AU | Jumin

I saw this artwork by @ranartinart and got inspired to write something short for my love, Jumin Han ;w; Thank you for your lovely art! :)

Reposted with permission from @ranartinart <3 Check it out here!

Wrote this fic while listening to this playlist ♪( ´θ｀)ノ

Trigger Warning: Violence

Story under the cut! This was purely self-indulgent haha! I feel as though I'm a little rusty with mysme so apologies in advance if it feels ooc ^^;; Enjoy~

★・・・・・・★

His precise steps against the marbled floor echo through the hallway. He isn't in a hurry; in fact, he takes his time, allowing the rage to bubble up inside him. He keeps his expression composed though, his head held high, his cold, steely eyes staring straight ahead, at the door on the end of the hallway.

Men and women bow to him as he passes, all of them avoiding his gaze. Finally, he reaches the door and his men open the door for him. Assistant Kang sees the man kneeling in the middle of the room, a few bruises already visible on his face and arms. She feels no pity for him, especially after he'd attempted to kidnap MC. Though MC was unharmed, Jaehee knows that this man will probably die here tonight. Honestly, he had a far better chance of surviving had he attempted to kill her boss, the mafia king of South Korea. But attacking his wife? His queen?

Jaehee looks at him with disdain as Jumin hands her his coat.

"Good riddance," she thinks to herself, turning on her heel. She makes a small gesture and the guards in the room follow her out, leaving Jumin alone with the man.

Jumin carefully folds his sleeves up, watching the man with cold, calculating eyes. The man glares at him, his hands bound behind his back.

"You motherfucker. You can't keep me here! They're gonna come lookin' for me! And when they do, they're gonna take you down, you bastard! You'll see. You're gonna be fucking sorry!" the man spits out, staring hatefully at Jumin.

Jumin arches a brow, continuing to fold his sleeves on his other arm. His voice is calm, low, as though he's having a casual conversation and not being threatened by this piece of scum. "Oh? I'd like to see them try."

The man becomes angrier, as though Jumin’s calm facade is somehow an insult to him. “Don’t you fucking know who I am, huh? I am—”

“You are irrelevant to me,” Jumin interrupts, crossing his arms as he looks down on the man. His expression darkens as he studies the lowlife who dared to touch his MC. Who dared to even breathe the same air as her. “I do not need to know your name, I do not need to know who you are, what you’re worth. All I need to know is this:

You meant to harm my wife.”

Jumin watches as a small smile appears on the man’s face. His jaw clenches as he holds himself back. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet.

“Your wife? MC? Yeah, she’s a real beauty. I remember those scared cries she made when I grabbed her. I bet she sounds real good in bed, huh? I bet—”

The man never gets to finish his sentence. Instead, he has a split second to widen his eyes before Jumin’s fist collides with his jaw. The man hears a crack but it’s quickly forgotten as pain shoots up his cheek, his jaw. His head whips harshly to one side and he tastes blood in his mouth.

Jumin grits his teeth and grabs the man by his hair, forcing him to face Jumin again.

“How dare you talk about my wife that way. How dare you even utter her name with that filthy mouth of yours. You have no right to even walk in the places her feet have touched. You have no right to breathe the air she breathes. You have no right at all to LIVE in the world she exists in.”

The man attempts to scowl but it turns into an ugly grimace, his jaw throbbing. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna fuck her and make you watch, you sonovabitch!” He’s about to spit at Jumin Han’s face when Jumin releases his hair and hits him with an uppercut, effectively slamming his teeth together. Jumin steps back and watches as the man chokes on his own spit, violent coughs making his shoulders heave. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his lips, down his chin; to Jumin, that vermin’s blood is like coal that fuels the deep loathing he feels towards said vermin. He wants more, more of the man’s blood to spill until he is on the brink of death.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of here? Do you think that highly of your comrades? Do you think they would come for you…at the risk of becoming my enemy?” Jumin lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“You’re sorely mistaken.

No one is coming to save you.”

“Think of it like this…” Jumin yanks on the man’s hair again, pulling him to his feet. He leans closer. In a low, soft voice, he speaks to the man —like Death’s whisper to a dying soul.

“You’re dead to them. In fact…you’re dead to everyone. There’s not a person who would want to be affiliated with you now. There’s not a single soul who will even speak your name anymore. Because if they do, I will not only obliterate every trace of their existence from the world, I will also ensure that their life becomes a living hell. They will spend every waking moment in a dark cell, suffering, praying they were dead, and every time they close their eyes they will be plagued with nightmares of the pitiful, painful, pathetic life ahead of them.”

The man struggles to remain upright, his hands still bound behind his back as blood starts to soak the front of his shirt. A muscle in Jumin’s jaw twitches as he stares at the hideous expression on the man’s face.

“You asked me if I knew who you are? Yes, I know who you are. I also know where you parents are, your sister and her family, even the bastard son you’re hiding from your employer.” At his words, Jumin sees the man’s face pale. “Here, we place a high value on family. That’s why I sought to learn about your family.”

“If you fucking touch them, I fucking swear I’ll—”

“You’ll…what? Kill me?” Jumin’s eyes flash and his lips curl in a small, taunting smirk. “That’s what you should have done. You should have killed me instead of going after my wife.”

Jumin approaches the man and now, he sees the man take a small step back.

“You’re only fucking cocky ‘coz you’re beating up a defenseless man! You think this is a fair fight?!”

“Fair?” Jumin’s eyebrow arches. “Fair?” He tilts his head ever so slightly, looking at the man in disbelief.

“Why would I stoop to your level and make this fair?”

He takes another step towards the man and the man’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“I was born with every advantage…why wouldn’t I use them? To, as you put it, ‘make this fair’? Why? You certainly thought it was fair to take advantage of a woman who’s smaller than you…and now you call me ‘cocky’ for beating you while your hands are bound?”

Jumin closes the gap between them and delivers a swift punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man chokes and gasps for air, wheezing as Jumin throws another punch…and then another.

The man feels his knees buckle as his body topples forward. But before he can even fall, Jumin grabs his shoulders and pushes the man down at the same time raising his knee and driving it further on the same spot.

“Get this through your thick head,” Jumin says vehemently, now letting his anger take over. Gone is his composure, all he can see now is this man stalking his wife, touching her, laughing at her horrified expression, thinking about the terrible things he’d do to MC…all because she’s Jumin’s queen.

“Life will never be fair.” Jumin keeps his grip on the man, not giving him a chance to straighten. He slams his knee against the man’s abdomen and now he can hear the man wheezing hard, his gasps turning raspy, desperate.

“You and I will never be on the same level.”

“P-lea—”

Jumin scowls at the man. He dares try to interrupt Jumin? Jumin takes a slight step back before slamming the man’s face down on his knee.

“Shut up. You don’t even deserve to be talking. I’ll have your tongue cut out…eventually.”

Jumin releases the man and he falls to the ground like a pathetic rag doll. The man is still wheezing, taking in short, quick breaths. Jumin watches him struggle to breathe, a rush of satisfaction filling him as he sees the man’s bloody face, his nose broken, his lip busted, his eyes swollen and drooping.

But still, this will never be enough. There’s never a good enough punishment for someone who has ill intentions towards Jumin Han’s family. Especially his Queen.

Jumin uses the front of his shoe to push the man onto his back. The man’s wide eyes dart to Jumin as he starts to choke on his own blood. But Jumin merely places a foot on his chest and leans forward, putting all his weight on the foot that’s right over the man’s lungs.

“Now…I’ve established that I know you. But…

Do you know who I am?”

Jumin’s steely gaze never leaves the man’s face, his icy expression showing no hints of mercy. In fact, he leans forward more, pressing his foot deeper.

”I am Jumin Han. I am the most powerful man in Asia.

From now on, your life is in MY hands. If you breathe it is because I’m letting you breathe. But don’t worry, I assure you, breathing will be a luxury for you. Like I said before, I was born with every advantage at my fingertips.

I intend to use my power to make your life into something far worse than the hell you’ve imagined.

About your family…I won’t hurt them. Yet. It all depends on whether you cooperate or not. You may think this is a sick, cruel game…I want to assure you yet again that yes, this is my sick, twisted game for simpletons with a death wish.”

The man’s face is turning purple as he desperately opens his mouth to try to get air into his lungs. Jumin just stares at him for a few seconds, watching the red lines creeping into the man’s eyes. Jumin eases his foot over the man’s lungs and he waits until the man intakes a couple of short breaths before pushing against his chest again.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, turning me into your enemy…but now I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the demon that haunts your every move. I’ll be your personal Grim Reaper, collecting blood and instilling fear in you.

Every day.

For the rest of your meaningless existence.”

Jumin lifts his foot from the man’s chest and he gazes down at his work. The man has tears flowing down the sides of his face, bruises and cuts all over his body —at least, the parts that Jumin can see. Jumin is sure the man has a cracked rib or two as well.

To him, this punishment is still nothing compared to the trauma this pathetic idiot instilled in MC. But he’ll have to stop for now; he doesn’t want the man to die that same night. No…Jumin wants him to live a long, miserable life.

Without another word, Jumin heads for the door, where Assistant Kang is already waiting with a towel in her hands. Jumin takes it, wiping away the man’s blood from his hands.

“I want him looked at but make sure he’s bound tightly. Only patch up the wounds that are fatal. Then transfer him to our warehouse, put him in a coffin and make him think he’s going to be buried alive; I trust you’ll oversee this, Assistant Kang?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send you a recording afterwards.”

“Good. He can stay there for the evening, but make sure to check the CCTVs in the coffin every now and then. I want him to live for a long time. In the morning, move him to a cell and only give him water. No food, no lights, no toilets, no requests. I’ll call you with further instructions tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

The guards around Jaehee reply in a rush, the menacing aura Jumin is exuding, scaring even them. Jaehee waves the guards towards the man and they get to work.

“Oh, and Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee turns to her boss, watching him holding the blood-stained towel. She never thought she’d be working for the most powerful man in the continent, but she’s also grateful that she is. There’s no mercy in Jaehee’s heart towards the man who could have taken someone precious from them, and she’s glad her boss can inflict the most damning punishment onto that man.

“Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Make sure that man or anyone affiliated with him will never get anywhere close to my wife. If they do, kill them. I want all our men to know that.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. I’ll leave this to you, then. Have a pleasant evening, Assistant Kang.”

Jaehee watches him go, as though he didn’t just nearly beat a man to death. But at the end of the day, they’re all just pawns on Jumin’s chessboard.

She pities any fool who dares to take on the king and his queen.

★・・・・・・★

I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading <3 Don't forget to follow @ranartinart too <3

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

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comets-wish · 23 days

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He stood at the theater's entrance, his shoes and coat wet and his hair littered with snowflakes. He waited at the doors, waiting for anything to happen.

One step forward. His stomach sank.

Another.

He looked behind him before entering the looming building. Nothing was there—good. There shouldn’t have been. He knew that. Yet he checked anyway.

Inside, he could see the halls he always admired. He wandered, exploring the corners that also felt empty. Shows and performances drew in people from reaches beyond, but this theater never felt full.

(All alone,)

He shook the thought away. He never felt alone here—for better or for worse. He reminisced on his dreams—the thought of everyone knowing him, him knowing his art could inspire others. How he wished to be adored in that light. In those lights.

His heart fluttered, and his mind swam with fantasies as he crossed stained carpet floors. The halls captivated him. Nearing the main stage, curiosity replaced awe and nostalgia.

He finally arrived at the central arena. Upon entering, a soft melody rose. Something familiar.

(For every sound that floats)

His stomach swelled and churned within him. He was both weightless and bound to the floor. He knew no one was there; there should be no sound. Had someone been pranking him? The urge to continue wandering left him--no, it ran from him.

Vines grew at his ankles, holding him in place. He could only stare at the stage, its curtains lowered. His thoughts continued swirling. Trying to focus on one filled him with nausea. He lost track of how long he stood there. Should someone find him, he’d indeed be taken in for trespassing. The thought of trespassing was enough to rouse him from his delirium. He looked down at his legs. No vines. Just his mostly dried shoes.

He turned from the stage to get away from his anxieties. The music died down.

(Feel a glory so rolling)

Just this once, he could stand on stage. He could pretend, play out his dreams, only for a moment—not a second longer—just enough to feel the satisfaction of standing in front of rows upon rows of chairs. As he faced the stage, the music rose. A few steps in. The music grew louder.

He no longer wanted any part of his fantasies. His feet dragged forward. Even as he tried to look away, his body betrayed him. He no longer had a choice. He would need to get to that stage.

Down the aisle, he heard footsteps shuffling in behind him. They filled the seats. They were waiting for him. Closer and closer, he drew to the stage, the music swelling. It filled every corner. Every shadow was revealed by the triumph of the melody.

(They are neither man nor woman—)

Eyes burned the back of his head. He knew the theater was empty, but he heard people enter. Which to believe? He held on to his wits—the theater was empty. Whatever godforsaken curse was causing the music also brought in the ghosts.

(They are neither brute nor human—)

His shirt clung to him, and a thin layer of perspiration covered his entire body. The air filling his lungs felt sharp, sharp enough to cut. And cut they did. For a brief moment, his thoughts became his own. He knew now the theater was full. He knew they’d be waiting for an act. He knew they would harm him if he succumbed to the delusions.

Voices filled the air. A choir of angels joined in the symphony. No, not angels, the audience. They praised him, anticipating his performance. They wanted him. They wanted his art. To view and feel, to behold and share.

(And their king it is who tolls;)

The curtains opened. Scenes and parties swallowed whole by those curtains. Those curtains that separate the viewer from the performer. Those curtains that opened readily for him. Ready to swallow and ready to separate.

What once was an angelic harmony gradually turned to shrills and shrieks. He seemed not to notice. His position was locked at the edge of the stage. He seemed to wait for an invitation. Something to tell him it was finally time to perform. A cue.

(His merry bosom swells)

He climbed up to the stage, where the music was loudest. Everything he was, everything he is, and everything he would be was intertwined with the song. Every corner of his mind filled with the sonata.

His back was to the crowd, which screamed as they had before. Laughter? Praises? Squalls? The noise overtook the song. There was no melody; there never had been. To perform now was to sacrifice, and what left was there to give of him?

(And he dances,)

A cue marked the center of the stage. He took his place, continuing to keep his back to the crowd. They were hungry. He could feed them. He could save them.

(and he yells;)

He turns to face the crowd. They exclaim. Wails and howls fill the air.

(To the sobbing of the bells;)

Lights focus on him. His eyes can’t focus to the greet the crowd that’s so patiently waited for him.

(Keeping time, time, time,)

His eyes search anyway. He looks for familiar faces of families, friends, workers. A smile crosses his face.

(As he knells, knells, knells,)

He bows.

#artists on tumblr #art #short story #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #edgar allan poe #horror #writerscommunity #writers and poets #literature #fiction #autobiographical fiction #abandoned #abandonment #creative writing #creative inspiration #ghost stories

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