Whompii - Sunshine Smile. - Tumblr Blog

what is a writer, if not a miserable little pile of ideas and half written google docs

girl help i am the most sensitive person you can ever meet but also the most emotionally unavailable person you can ever meet at the exact same time and i’m still trying to make it work somehow

i have commited the unforgivable sin of being average i must kill myself 6381673649 times

“it’s platonic love” yeah, cock up ass platonic

Thunderstorms at Night

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Finally! The sweetest and most patient @genuinelydisappointed commissioned me for this piece, and I hope you all enjoy the final part of wife and husband <3

WARNINGS: graphic detailing of injuries, mention of needles, yandere Capitano, mention of murder, marriage, mention of nsfw, 4k words

It is raining outside. 

The quick realisation comes to you moments after waking up, though you’ve yet to open your eyes. It is the gentle pitter patter against the windows, the stream of water cascading down the drain, that makes the rain obvious nonetheless. It soothes you, as it has always done. This was the kind of weather where you’d be permitted to run toward your mother’s chambers and cuddle up, feigning a fright for thunderstorms you’d never really possessed. 

And yet you still ran, and cried, just so your mother would sigh and pat the bed, allowing you comfort and safety in her arms. 

Rather slowly, your eyes do blink open, though they shut just as fast, realizing it is not even close to dawn yet. 

Keep reading

[ IMPOSSIBLE ] BAKUGOU KATSUKI.

it’s quiet this morning—which is fairly odd with bakugou, considering he’s always cursing about one thing or another under his breath as he gets ready, but today it’s silent. 

and it’s only silent because you refuse to talk to him, and he’s not going to talk to a wall, so he plays along. but you can tell he’s an atom bomb ticking, ready to go off any moment—and it really doesn’t take long before he lets out one last frustrated huff and takes the spatula from your hand as you make breakfast, pushing the pan off the heat before turning you to face him. 

he notes that there are still two eggs on the pan instead of one (you’re angry, not rude.)

“hey, what gives—”

“i’ve had fuckin’ enough,” he grunts, narrowing his eyes at you, “quit bein’ mad.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling dryly as you nod, “yeah, you’re right. i’ll just stop being sad next time i’m sad too. or stop feeling tired next time i get tired.”

“y’know that’s not what i meant,” he groans, pinching his nose, “i meant ‘m sorry. so stop bein’ mad,” he tries again. it’s blunt and doesn’t really butter you up like you’d hope, but it’s him and it’s sincere. 

last night is your first fight since you’ve moved in together. as in, last night is the first time you and bakugou don’t sleep on the same bed. he’s stuck on the couch for cursing at you—he always curses, but never with that tone directed towards you—and you sleep on the bed alone. 

his back is aching, but that’s not even the worst part. the worst part is that he now realizes that when your body isn’t slotted next to his, he doesn’t know what to do with his arms (he settles for awkwardly crossing them over his chest), and when you don’t talk his ear off before bed, he doesn’t have the sound of your voice to lull him to sleep (he ends up tossing and turning on the couch for most of the night.)

and with this newfound information, bakugou katsuki decides he will never be sleeping on the couch again. ever. so his only solution is to fix things so you don’t send him there tonight too.

but you’re still upset, so you turn your head and huff. 

“well, you shouldn’t have been so mean to me then,” you raise a brow, crossing your arms at him. 

the first time you and bakugou fight, it’s at your apartment after a date. it’s the first time he raises his voice at you, the first time he’s not gentle behind the tough exterior you think is practically his second skin. and before he can make things worse, before he can ruin the first thing in his life that’s not just good or even great, but perfect, he storms out to clear his head. 

he comes by the next morning with your coffee order and some breakfast before he mumbles an apology at your front doorstep. it’s awkward and gruff and a little choppy, but his voice is soft and his eyes are dim. you sigh before offering to split your breakfast and he doesn’t step a foot inside your home until you give him a kiss. 

the second time you fight is in the car. you’re the one to storm out this time, slamming the door at a red light and walking off before he can even fully comprehend what’s happened. and because luck seems to never be on either of your sides, it’s raining. he finds you shivering on the park bench where you both have your first picnic, and he drapes his jacket over you as he lectures you like he’s your father about the dangers of walking off in the middle of the night while it’s raining. 

because he’s equal parts annoying when he lectures, and equal parts endearing when he’s worried, you cut him off with a kiss. it’s a messy kiss, rain on your lips and a clash of teeth from the initial shock, but he melts into it instantly. he understands that night why cliche rain kisses are so romantic as he holds you in the middle of an empty park.  

and he thinks no matter how many times you fight, no matter who’s mad at who, he’ll find a way to end every argument with a kiss if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“yeah, so ‘m sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, “didn’t mean it, okay? i love you.” you can’t help but notice that the last part isn’t stiff and awkward like everything else—he says i love you delicately, like it’s a fragile thing to say, like it’s a privilege he won’t take for granted. 

“well, i’m still mad,” you say stubbornly. 

“then quit bein’ mad,” he furrows his brows, “my back hurts on that damn shitty couch, okay? ’s gonna hurt my performance too. i’ll have to tell the families of the people i can’t save that you’re the reason why,” he warns, and he smirks a little at the way you have to chew your bottom lip to hide the giggle you almost let slip. 

“how bad does it hurt?”

“worst back pain i ever endured,” he says instantly. it’s a lie. he’s been slammed against buildings and concrete and practically given you enough heart attacks to leave you bedridden for the rest of your life—but he has to convince you somehow, even if it’s through dramatics. 

you sigh, and he almost thinks he’s won—almost.

“okay, you sleep on the bed, and i’ll sleep on the couch tonight—”

“you’re so fuckin’ gullible,” he cuts you off instantly, “as if a damn couch could do anything to me. i’ll sleep there until you’re done bein’ pissy,” he grumbles. 

you frown because you know him, and you know he’s just saying that. and just like that, the anger melts away and leaves behind the soft ache that only bakugou can placate. the kind of ache he placates by pretending the couch doesn’t hurt his back so it doesn’t have to hurt yours.

“katsuki—”

“i said i’ll sleep there,” he says firmly, “you’d get cold anyway. fuckin’ baby.”

“fine,” you spit, scrunching up your nose as you huff slightly, “you can sleep on the bed with me. but don’t touch.”

“i’ll stick to the couch then,” he says flatly, “the bed’s a full package deal. cuddles or nothing.”

“you are impossible,” you scoff, and he grins, chuckling lightly as his eyes stare at you amused. and he’s not perfect, a little rough around the edges with a mouth that runs before he thinks, but he loves hard and deep, enough to make you believe you’re worth sleeping on a stiff couch for with a thin blanket. enough to show up at your doorstep with your coffee and breakfast order memorized. enough to soak through the rain to hand you a jacket so you’re less cold.

“you’ll come runnin’ to me for cuddles sooner or later,” he snorts, “might as well make it sooner.”

“fine,” you cave, and because you missed him just like he missed you, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss his jaw, “i love you too. and you can join me in bed and have your stupid cuddles.”

“‘m doin’ it for you,” he has the audacity to shoot back.

“katsuki, you really are impossible,” you snort as you shake your head, and when he gives you a lopsided grin, you kiss him slow and deep and a little more in love than you were yesterday. 

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

i cant get that chapter out of my head

fanart of the club scene in chapter 3 from @bxnten​ ‘s Little Dark Age

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

update schedule: every other wednesday

status: incomplete

CHAPTER Ⅰ. I’M GOING BACK TO 505 

CHAPTER Ⅱ. HOUSE OF MEMORIES

CHAPTER Ⅲ. ONE IS PRETTY BUT THE OTHER LIES

CHAPTER Ⅳ. CAUSE YOU WERE CRUEL AND I’M A FOOL

CHAPTER Ⅴ. YOU’RE GONNA GO FAR, KID

CHAPTER Ⅵ. KNOW THAT IF YOU HIDE, IT DOESN’T GO AWAY

CHAPTER Ⅶ. AND YOU’LL NEVER BE PURE AGAIN

CHAPTER Ⅷ. CAUSE I KNOW YOU GET DEJA VU

CHAPTER Ⅸ. YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER MET HER AT ALL

CHAPTER Ⅹ. OH, HOME, LET ME COME HOME…

CHAPTER ⅩⅠ. … HOME IS WHEREVER I’M WITH YOU

CHAPTER ⅩⅡ. WHATEVER I’VE DONE, I DID IT FOR LOVE

TBA…

***

CHAPTER Ⅲ. FANART BY @melona-majon

CHAPTER Ⅹ. ILLUSTRATION BY @ichigopanhpff

CHAPTER Ⅹ. ILLUSTRATION PT. 2 BY @ichigopanhpff

reblogs for boost are always appreciated ^.^

babygirl you are abnormal. wanna kiss?

hello tumblr blogger. in this anonymous ask i will showcase how by reading your blog posts, i have an innate understanding of yourself, your friends, your relationship, and your emotional state. i have come to the conclusion that you’re horrible. respond to this ask in 3 to 10 minutes or i will be accusing you of avoidance of consequences posthaste. good day

reblog to give the person you reblogged it from a little heart lollipop

  ― Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body

[text ID: To love someone is firstly to confess: I'm prepared to be devastated by you.]

you can always start again. clean up your socials, make new playlists, donate clothes you no longer wear. try out a new recipe, move to a new city and make new friends, pick up new hobbies you never thought of before. there is no limit to how many times you can press the reset button. it's okay to change and start over. you don't need anyone's permission to do it.

fanfiction is so unbelievably stupid you’ll be like oh i want to write about some finctional dudes and suddenly you’re knee deep in two hundred year old inheritance laws

oh yeah this would do numbers* on tumblr

*2 likes from beloved mutuals

oikawa loves clumsy and awkward girls

nanami is a beach fan i feel it. he cracks a beer and falls asleep in the sun... comes home with a sunburn on the bridge of his nose

why — life is as hard as always, & currently i am about to lose all the things i had to put in a storage unit, which because of my housing situation is 90% of what I own, due to miscommunication from the company to myself (more like them attempting to scam me). + i am unable to work at the moment because my tires are so smooth they slide whenever i drive on paved roads.

rules. four/five slots are open in a first come, first serve basis. you will receive the final product however you chose, this can be via email or by post.

what. i cannot write anyone over 1k full of fluff, but fluff/smut, hurt/comfort, etc is welcome. for more about what i write check here.

fandoms. tokyo revengers, boku no hero academia, obey me, jujutsu kaisen, one piece, haikyuu. [check full chara list here]

PRICING ! these are half off*

$5 — 501-1000 WORDS

$10 — 1001-2000 WORDS

$20 — 2001-3000 WORDS

+ $3 for every extra character.

payments accepted thru KOFI + CASHAPP!

for any further questions, please shoot me an ask, dm, or message on discord [bugg#1504]

if you are interested, please fill out this form! thank you <333

You deserve people in your life who think you are a big deal. No competition, no backhanded comments, no jealously, no comparison, no hate just simply “I love you and there is nobody like you and there will only ever be one of you” type energy

thank you for following me I have nothing to offer

[ 𝟐:𝟒𝟔 𝐀𝐌 ] 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍.

“mammon!” you shriek, soft giggles airing through the room.

“i told ya i’d eat ya,” he chuckles, nibbling on your cheeks as he hovers over you, hands pinning yours above your head to keep you caged. “‘m gonna devour ya if ya don’t take it back.”

it’s late, and mammon should be asleep if he wants to pass his exam tomorrow—and he really needs to if he doesn’t be held back—but he thinks he’ll take the extra grogginess in the morning if it means hearing the sweet sound of your laugh like this.

“not…gonna take it b-back!” you say between fits of laughter. he stares down at you, stares at the way your cheeks widen as you smile, as your eyes crinkle and your lashes cast a shadow over your skin.

and maybe if he had to pick, he’d say his favorite part about you is this—the human and fragile part that makes his heart ache, the part that makes him feel like you need him, the part that makes him realize every little moment means something when you don’t have centuries to live.

“oh yes ya are,” he scowls, “nobody insults the great mammon and gets away with it. ‘specially not some human,” he moves to bite at your other cheek, tongue swiping across your skin and making you gasp.

“ew, mammon,” you whine, “you’re gross.”

“bleh,” he twists his face, eyes glinting with playfulness, “ya taste rotten. ain’t no way anyone could eat ya.”

“how rude,” you huff, poking his chest with a pout on your lips. and for a second, he almost leans in to kiss it off. “i’m delicious. you have no idea what you’re saying.”

“i’ve tasted humans in my many years,” he says matter of factly, “i know plenty.”

“that’s why i said you’re old,” you snort, “you even have the white hair to prove it.” your fingers ruffle through the snowy locks atop his head, and he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as his cheeks burn a little with heat.

“h-hey! i told ya to take it back, not say it again,” he grumbles, and this time, it’s his turn to pout. “the great mammon’s also the most handsome. a-admit it, go on.”

you smile, and he doesn’t meet your eyes. and he’s starting to realize this is a bit of a compromising position—he really hopes no one walks in or he’ll never live it down. his face is just inches above yours, and it wouldn’t be hard to close the gap between your lips, to feel your warmth and get a taste of you.

“you are handsome,” you murmur, no hints of teasing in your tone, just honeyed smiles laced with truth. he gulps, looking down, avoiding your gaze as your hands gently pry free from his grasp. and he’s almost certain you can feel the heat of his cheeks as you cup them.

“h-hey, what do ya think you’re d-doing,” he huffs, furrowing his brows and pretending to frown, “s-stop that, i ain’t a child.”

if you notice him lean into your palms despite his words, you say nothing—and he’s grateful.

“no, you’re an old man,” you giggle, squishing his cheeks together. mammon thinks if he weren’t immortal, you’d kill him right here—and it’s not the worst way to go, he thinks, basked in your touch as your scent floods his senses.

in fact, if he had to go, he thinks this would be how he’d want to.

“quit callin’ me tha—” you cut him off with the press of your lips, making his eyes widen before they flutter shut, pressing firmly against you as your thumb rubs his cheek.

and mammon’s lived a long life, he’s felt the familiar lull of hands over his skin, he’s tasted lips that mold against his over and over, but nothing’s quite ever felt like this. no one has ever left his skin warm like the sun resides in your fingertips, and no one’s lips have fit against his like they were meant for him.

and then he wonders if you were made for just him, if he was always meant to fall and meet you here, if being damned like this was his own way of being blessed. so he kisses you, cups your cheek right back and let’s out a shaky breath against your mouth before he all but devours you whole.

“i love you,” you murmur when you pull away, forehead pressed against his. because mammon, under dark wings and heavy horns, under tough words and a rough exterior, under heavy sins and a tainted past, is the closest to an angel you’ve ever seen.

and when his body sinks into the mattress beside you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him, you think you’ve found a heaven built just for you in his hold.

“course ya do,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, eyes bright and face warm, “and i love ya too, ya rotten human.”

© sakusins do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok