hewwo uwu | requests are open!! | all writings are gender neutral unless stated otherwise | masterlist | ao3 | spare coffee pwease |
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plush-rabbit · 6 hours ago
I for one would love anon to send the leon ask again, I’d love to read a leon fic!!! It’s been sooooo looooong since we’ve given our champ some lovins!!!!
Birthday anon sent it!! (And I even screenshot it for good measure) The champion will get some love!!
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plush-rabbit · 7 hours ago
Leon bday asker. I did send an ask the same time I sent it and you confirmed that you got it, though maybe the request deleted itself after? Tumblr is weird ngl. It’s ok, I’m not mad! I hope you’re doing well.
I had found the ask in the post that I did receive it but when I checked my asks I couldn't find it. Do you want to send it in again? I can have it out by Sunday. I'm really sorry, like terribly so😖
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plush-rabbit · 11 hours ago
Hope you’re doing well and staying healthy!
Also, was the Leon birthday ask for June 11 too much / not sent soon enough? I’m sorry if it was
I did not receive that one, I'm so sorry!! Lemme check if I maybe answered that ask or something. If I did confirm, then it was all on me and my horrible memory!! Im very sorry!!
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plush-rabbit · a day ago
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Comforting You When It's Too Much
Request: 💵 Heya, I’m the anon from earlier that wasn’t doing so cash money, and I have a request for Dabi, mr compress, and twice with someone who is too nice to the point it becomes their downfall. Kinda mother’s everyone because they didn’t have that when they were a kid, (mommy issues check) but eventually it just kinda, comes crashing down on them. Overall just really, really needs a hug and to be told that someone is proud of them and loves them regardless. Thanks <3
A/N: Wow,,, this is late. Sorry about that… Love you!!
Bubaigawara Jin:
Jin doesn’t realize how much he leans on you until he sees your breaking point. He had a rough experience in his late teen years that when he meets you, he sort of just leans onto you for comfort. He doesn’t mean to do it, it just happens naturally. One day, he’s pulling you close and letting his hand glide against your lower belly and the next, he’s on your chest, eyes closed as you run your hands through his pale hair. He’ll go to you for comfort, lean against your chest and be lulled to sleep as you play with his hair and hum him a song that he can’t be bothered to recognize. It’s been such a long time that someone has cared for him the way you do, that he’s just tired and wants to be taken care of for a minute. He hasn’t felt the loving touch of someone in such a long time- in a romantic sense- that with you, he’s become greedy and wanting to have more and more for you until he’s satiated.
He doesn’t recognize when you’ve begun to wear yourself thin. He can tell you’re getting a bit more snappy but even then, those moments are quickly soothed over by your apologetic look and hands rushing to cup his face while you murmur how sorry you are under your breath. He thinks nothing of it, merely leaning into your touch and telling you that it’s okay, the scruff on his face scratching against your palms. He isn’t great at picking up on small signals, the negative voices usually making a mountain out of molehill, so he ignores the small sign merely writing them off that you’re just tired in a way that he isn’t. He’ll kiss your cheek and offer you a candy bar, telling you to hold him for just a bit longer before he goes to get something for you.
The eventual crashing down happens out of nowhere- at least to him. The music has been blaring, there’s a mess, you’ve gotten little to no sleep and you’re tired. You’re so tired and yet, you can’t find it in you to take a break. It takes one little thing that makes everything come crashing down and suddenly your palms sting as they slap against the table. The tears in your eyes burn and you can feel the stares on you. In that same moment, you retreat to the shared room and cradle yourself at the corner of the bed. You hold yourself close, head resting between your knees and chest, hands knitted into your hair and he’s quick to rush to your side. His hands fret over you, quickly making sure that you’re safe, that nothing is wrong with you before you pull away with tear stains that streak down the curve of your face.
It's hard enough to talk to him about these sorts of things. You wipe at the tears that cling to your lashes and tell him how it’s just been getting too much and even with that, you still can’t explain it properly. You’re just tired and want to be held but he also needs you and you hold his hands as tears fill your eyes once more. You whisper in a strained voice that you know that he needs you but you also need him, you’re just a person and you want to know that you’re okay. He feels awful, something so horrible that twists his insides and makes his heart ache. His teeth dig into the inside of his cheeks and he hugs you, his face buried into the crook of your neck, shame making his body hot and heart beat against his chest.
His arms are tight around you, pulling you to his chest and letting the scent of cigarettes and cheap cologne fill your lungs. He hadn’t meant to make you feel this way. If there’s one thing about Jin and the relationship he has with you, is that he respects it and doesn’t want to hurt you. He knows what it’s like to be human, the mistakes that can be made and the guilt and anxiety that can bubble up and boil inside of you, and he’s sorry for that. His knees dig into the mattress and the back of his head thuds against the wall, his hand going to cradle your head as if you were the one who had gotten hurt despite being cushioned by his chest. He kisses you, fleeting kisses that pepper over your face and he tells you that he’s sorry. He hadn’t meant to let you handle everything alone. He cusps your face and he tells you that he’ll hold you until you tire of him. He’s proud of you for talking to him, praising you for all the good and hard work that you’ve done while he kisses your forehead.
Dabi:
Unbeknownst to you, Dabi relies heavily on you due to his own parental issues. He hadn’t meant to, but there was something nice about being cared for that made him lean into you. He liked having you run your hands through his hair and have him sit in a bath where you washed his hair for him and kissed his scars as if the pain would go away with such a simple gesture and for a moment, the pain would fade away. He sees you as this safe haven, wanting to keep you locked away for just his own selfish needs but even any negative thought like that is turned away when you peck the tip of his nose, your fingertip running down the same nose that has been broken many times over. He seeks you out for comfort, leaning onto you and expecting so much. He wants to be cared for, to fill the emptiness inside of him and have you kiss at his lips to make the pain go away.
He sees you wear yourself thin but speaks nothing of it. He’s of the belief that if you wanted help, you would have asked for it, but you haven’t and he lets you continue on. It’s selfish of him and guilt will gnaw on his insides until he’s curled against your chest, your heart beating softly against his lips. He can see your eyes start to lose the spark, the heaviness of your smile and how your hands start to slow when you comb through his hair. He hates to say it, but it's an annoyance for him. He’s grown so used to having you care for him that the minute you show signs of stopping, he takes it personally. He hates it and he feels like a child as he grumbles and pulls you away to lock you in his room. You shouldn’t mother anyone else but him; he’s the one that craves it more than anyone else does, he’s the one that needs it and the words slice through your skin until you’re left bleeding dry holding him in your arms.
Ultimately, you are left to care for him because he likes it and you want to care for him, you want to make him happy. You hold him close and he’s returning your hug with quick arms that trap you with him. You both gain something from the way you treat him so he sees no objection to it. No matter the amount of sweet gestures down to him, the guilt still gnaws on him. He hates it, he’s desperately trying to not feel guilt and yet, here you are. Your eyes are sad and you hold him, your lips pressed against the top of his head and he can feel you sigh against him. He’ll frown, and his hands will clutch at the back of your shirt, the fabric twisting in his hands and he’ll pull away, coming to sit with his legs crossed.
While not a stranger to confrontations, he doesn’t want to have one with you, but he can see how tired you are. He’ll sigh and when he asks what’s wrong, he’ll see tears form in your eyes and he instantly feels awful. He lowers himself to hold you to his chest. You cry softly onto his chest and he just holds you close, running his fingers down your spine and trailing them upwards softly. He lets you get your grievances out, holding you to him. His arms are tight around you but rather than keeping you trapped with him, he holds you, a loose grip that stays firm around your sides. When you begin to shift, he opens his arms, letting you shuffle around him. His hands are calloused, ears of use and mistreatment scarring them, hsi fingertips brushing away your tears and he frowns when you lean into him.
All he sees when you lean into him, when you welcome his touch and love the way that his hands are different to yours, is someone so exhausted and he remembers it was him who pushed you. Dabi apologies under his breath and keeps you close to him. His words are said as he looks at the wall in front of him, his hand cupped over your shoulder and massaging it weakly. He tells you that you don’t have to say yes to everything, that you’re allowed to take a break. He’s sorry that he pushed you, but he does want you to know that he appreciated you taking care of him, that it made him happy and that you were the one to make him happy. He nods his head, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tells you that he’s proud of you for sticking with these messy feelings for so long but for the next time, to tell him and he’ll back off and help you.
Sako Atsuhiro:
Being an older man comes with certain restrictions. People treat you as if you can carry the weight of the world on your back. He’s gotten to a point where it’s difficult to be treated with such care. As he ages, his bones ache and phantom pain shoots throughout his arm until he’s bent over and clutching the prosthetic. When you come along and start to treat Atsuhiro with tenderness, he’s quick to melt into your palms. He hasn’t had someone comfort him with gentle hands that when you come along, he holds you close and doesn’t want to let go. He’ll rest his aching head against your shoulders and hold your hand. Your fingers will trace the lines on his palms and ghost over each finger and he’ll be lulled to sleep by your soft touch.
It can be rather embarrassing to admit but he has grown rather accustomed to your touch. He’s grown rather needy, wanting to slither between your legs and rest his head on your chest. He loves having your attention, loves all the lovely things that come with it. He’ll start to expect you to hold him, to kiss his lips and massage his hand. For the moment, you welcome it. You want to be needed, you want to care for others in a way that you hadn’t because for whatever reason, now you want to care for those close to you. You hold him close to you, your hands threaded into his hair as you scratch at his scalp and he’s lazing above you, a tender smile that stretches wide across his face as you take care of him.
If you are close to a breaking point, he won’t realize it. He’s so caught up in himself and everything he’s in that he doesn’t recognize your own turmoil. He still leans into you and you still treat him the same and in his eyes he has nothing to worry about. You allow him to take advantage of your caring nature and you’ve stated multiple times that you enjoy fussing over him. He might take notice if you’ve become rather tired throughout the times spent with him. A lack of energy where instead of him resting his head on your chest, it’s you resting your head on his, holding his hand tightly and squeezing it as if to plead to him to hold your hand just as tight. It’s until he hears you sniffle that he realizes that something is wrong. Your hands hold onto his shirt, your face buried into his chest and no matter how many times he calls your name, you do not rise to look at him.
He frets immediately. He pulls away from you and has you sit up with him. He asks what’s wrong, his words slurring together as he rests the back of his hand against your forehead to check for a fever, his hand resting against your tummy and asking if you feel sick. His mind wanders to physical ailments, checking to see if you might have a bruise or a bump on your head and even resorting to letting his hand glide against the bed covers, hoping to find a reason for your tears. He won’t stop until you speak, finally voice your worries and thoughts into the world and he can see the weight that is lifted off your shoulders from just expressing that. He realizes with a heavy heart that it was him who did this, who made you feel so exhausted. His shoulders slump and his head will bow slightly as his hands come to curve over your shoulders and to your back, pulling you into a hug and he has you rest against the curve of his neck, frowning and petting you as tears wet him.
Atsuhiro hadn’t meant to place such a heavy burden onto you, but he had. The most that he can do right now is allow you to cry while he holds you. He keeps you close to him, his nose brushing against you when he kisses the side of your head every few minutes and so. He’ll let out a soft sigh when your cries have turned into whimpers that slowly fade into silence. It’s okay for you to feel all these sorts of things and he wishes he had seen the signs earlier. He apologizes and will tell you that he’s happy that you want to make him happy, but you come first. The showman will hold you, let you rest upon him and sleep close to him as he takes care of you. He’ll tell you that he’s proud of you, for wanting to do good to others, but he needs you to watch over yourself as well, his lips pecking at the tip of your nose. You don’t need to watch over him, he hadn’t wanted you to think he fell for you simply because you tended to his whims, he feelings won't change for you no matter the way that you change.
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plush-rabbit · a day ago
Who are your top 3 favs in bnha and obey me?? I wanna learn more about you bunny! 🖤🖤
okay, okay!!
so for bnha it would be: shigaraki, fatgum, and for a third lady nagant (horikoshi stop killing women for no reason)
for obey me!! mammon, diavolo, and satan. solomon has been creeping along with simmy but thats more of my religious repression 😜
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plush-rabbit · 2 days ago
Soooooooo would u like 👉🏻👈🏻 ever do a train like u did for the LOV but for the brothers? 🥺
Of course!! That would be really fun to deal with!!
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
I agree with the last anon, I can't wait to see some yandere stuff and I can't wait to see what like kind of yandere shiggy is gonna be. I already know it's gonna be so good, and I'm so hyped to see it. Your writing is literally the best 💖💖
!!! Thank you!!! I wanna write the yandere part so bad now!! Lemme go do that and then I'll work the entire chapter around that one scene
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
Speaking of Tomura, I blame you. Listen, before I found this blog, I thought he was a crusty gamer. But NOW?? I think he's a CUTE crusty gamer. Honestly that anon is right, you're the best Shiggy writer I know and you converted me into simpin' for this man. 😞💙
We shall always speak of Tomura in this blog. He's a crusty gamer and he is beautiful. i just, I see him and I'm like I fell in love quick. i honestly thought I was gonna fall for Dabi and I did but Tomura stole my heart. I love his him so much and honestly, i just wanna rant about him and how pretty he is
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
I too cannot wait to get to the yandere part of IWTHYSI 😳😳😳
like literally if i write a series its because im basing it off on part that i had thought about,, like the rest of it is like made up along the way
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
hello!! i would just like to say I'm so glad you still continue I Want To Hear You Say It. The recent chapter was phenomenal. SO GOOD WOW. I love how you build up the story and can't wait for the next ch. Have a good day
yewwo!! like this series will take a while but it will be updated or so help me(ง •̀_•́)ง the next chapter will be update sometime soon!! i promise this time!! i have the idea for it, i just need to rough draft it out and all that jazz. have a good day, love ya!!
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
Chapter 6 of I want to hear you say it was so good!! I absolutely love the way you write shigaraki, you're probably one of my favorite writers when it comes to shigaraki, and the way you wrote the readers conflicted thoughts? 👌👌. The wait was 100% worth this chapter
!!! I'm glad you enjoyed it!! I had a bit of apprehension with this chapter 'cause I thought it was too short but that's another thing. I'm- Like the amount of joy that I have for people who enjoy the way that I write our dear boi, is just amazing. Like it means so much t me in a way that just makes me happy stim for like a good half-day. Thank you for the super nice comment, love ya!!!
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
Hewwooooo! I was wondering if you had any Lucifer fics since his bday was Sunday?? But it’s totally okay if not! 🥺🥺 I was just wonderin 💋
Bestie I am so sorry, but I do not have anything in the works. You're free to request one tho!! Since it is Pride Month (;)) you can request!!
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
The newest chapter is good!!! I’m sorry you’re in a bad place right now :/ I love you!! Take all the time you need for yourself!!! Drink some water bestie!!! Love you!! ✨✨💋🌈😘🥰🥰
!!! thank you so much!! i was really hesitant about this chapter because of it's length and i feel like im repeating myself but after this, things are gonna get better!! i have the rough drafts of the next chapter and im a bit lost for the following one after that but yeah!!
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plush-rabbit · 3 days ago
I loved your Tamaki fic where he was hit with the aphrodisiac quirk, honestly it was perfection 👌🏼 if someone requested it would you write something like that for any of the lov guys?
Sorry for the late answer!! Hm,,, yeah!! I think I would be super willing for that. It would be fun to play with the different personalities/neediness so yeah, i would be willing!!
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plush-rabbit · 5 days ago
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Asmodeus Comforting A Chubby Partner
Request: i was wondering if you could do hc's maybe for an insecure/chubby!reader x asmo? (both n/sfw are fine. whatever you're more comfy with) he's my favourite/comfort character but he very clearly loves beautiful things... as someone who isn't "traditionally/stereotypically beautiful" it makes me feel very insecure that he probably wouldn't be attracted to me. cellulite, stretch marks and scars riddle my body from years of extreme weight loss and gain from various eating disorders and harmful, unhealthy coping mechanisms. it's a lot of projection but ig i'm just worried he'd see like my loose tummy skin and be repulsed by it or the stretch marks on not just the "typical" places like thighs, stomach, bum, etc. etc. but places like my arms, shoulders and sides too.
Warnings: eating disorders + scaring briefly mentioned, allusion to self harm
A/N: Don’t ever worry about what I write for!! I’m willing to write a lot (also babes, i obvs don’t know you but please believe that you’re gorgeous, beauty standards fuck us all over and i need you to understand that your marks are all kisses from your body and marks to kiss. I’m sure you’re lovely and i hope you find love within yourself xoxo)
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Absorbed with his beauty in the first few weeks that you’ve stayed with at the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus hadn’t noticed your lack of self-love. It’s only until later that he can see your forlorn glances at a mirror, the way you try to hide yourself under baggy clothing or long sleeved shirts. Of course, it’s a bit chilly in Devildom, but it doesn’t sit right with him. He brings you to his room that smells like lilies and strawberries, letting you sit down beside him as he grabs your hand, painting it a matching set as himself. With you in hand, he’ll ask you about yourself, slowly prying into your view about yourself. A deep frown will tug against the corners of his mouth and he’ll furrow his brows. He’s been aware of beauty standards in the Human Realm but he had never thought it was so dire to affect your own perception of yourself.
As the love and relationship between the both of you progresses, he’s focused on trying to make you feel better about yourself but in doing so he has to open some wounds. He knows that it hurts, and he’s pained to see you cry, looking nervously at you and fiddling with the ends of his hair but he means well. He tries to understand you, to feel a deeper connection with you and he’ll hold you as you cry onto his shirt. Once you’re done, he’ll let you calm down for a few minutes, offer you some water and dry your eyes, his fingertips grazing against your skin ever so slightly. With every word that you spewed with hate, he’ll counter it with adoration. He’ll hold your hands and comment about how they fit into his perfectly, the soft plush cheeks that you have, your lips that taste of sweet nectar and the marks against your skin that are perfect kissing spots.
He adores your cellulite. You may not think much of it and see it as a hindrance but to him, it reminds him just how soft you are. While demons and the alike are fun and he enjoys the time that he has spent with them he adores you. You’re a human, you’re soft and always changing. He likes to see your body, the way that it has changed, the pale lines marking over your skin like lightning bolts against the night sky. You’ll often find him tracing over it, his fingers walking over your skin and letting the stretch marks take him where they need to be. The stretch marks that lace over your stomach, the ones that pull and wrinkle your skin are something that he enjoys to look at. The groves trace under his fingertips and he’s reminded that you’re human, that you trust him with your plump body despite the mannerisms that he shows at times. Your worth is not put onto your body, it’s put against who you are and he loves everything sweet about you.
The Avatar of Lust is many things and loves many things, and one of those happens to be you. His charm doesn’t work on you and while it was a disappointment at first, it was also a grace hidden by it. You grew to care for him, for him. You loved the sweet nature of him that is hidden by childish jealousy, you adore the way that he tries not to cry at movies, less it ruins his makeup. You adore the small things about him. He fell for your beauty and soon fell for you. He loves beautiful things and his past partners might share a similar type but it doesn’t dictate his only standard of beauty. Beauty comes late at night when the moon is bright, beauty comes at seeing a lover wrapped in a silky bathrobe that’s matched with the other. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and he beholds many things that are beautiful. He seeks you out because you care for him in a way that he hasn’t realized he wanted- you hold his hand and you seek him out for pure enjoyment rather than lustful reasons.
His lips will trace against your body, his hands held tight in yours and he reminds you in all the ways that matter that he loves your body. You’re human, you change and that’s all right by him. Your loose skin is soft, plush and squishing under his slender fingers. If you allow him to, he’ll kiss your skin, let his pink lips pepper against your burning body and he can feel his sin tug at him. He wants to care for your body, to let you feel the pleasure that roams throughout him. His hand will curve over your tummy, his lips close to yours as he tells how delightful you look under him.
Perhaps it's because a few of his past lovers have looked a certain way, but he truly does love your scars. He likes to see your scars of tales from the time before. He might not know how you got them, but from the way you become nervous, he can only guess. He sees your scars as growth, you are in a different place, you are healing both physically and mentally. The scars are from someone long ago, from some cruel and uncaring, and now he’ll kiss them with a cheeky smile, merely telling you that he enjoys kissing your skin. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, he’ll pull you to another part of the house, commenting how he needs help with a class.
While he does love your body, your own happiness comes before his own pleasure. He wants to know that you truly do love yourself and if you don’t, he’ll pout but your happiness means much more. If you really do feel so bad about your scars, he’s willing to go and buy whatever cream is necessary to help aid in fading your marks. He’ll rub the cool cream against your belly, his smile melancholic as he tells you a story. He isn’t fond of changing you, but if it makes you happy and helps erase the scars that you try so desperately to hide, then who is he to complain about your body? He will remind you throughout the process that he does love your body, that whatever you do, is for your happiness because no matter what, he’ll be happy with you.
When he learns of your rather unhealthy coping mechanisms, he heart aches. He becomes rather dependent during this time, wanting to stay close to you for fear of hurting yourself in some type of way. He trusts in you but knowing that you would have harmed yourself makes him rather jittery. He’ll use the title that he has to find someone to talk to because while he would love nothing more than to listen to you, he is not qualified to be the one giving you advice. He’ll still spend hours scouring the internet looking for a way to help you- different medians, alternative ways to feel the sort of satisfaction that you might derive from it and anything else he can understand and see it fitting for you.
He rather have you do things in a healthy way that won’t ruin your body and mind. If you are keen to lose weight, you’re going to do it carefully. As the relationship unfurls into a blossoming flower, he becomes bolder in his actions. He won’t assume what you want to look like, but he wants to help so he’ll find a plan perfect for you and work alongside you. He loves beautiful things and he finds you to be beautiful and if you want to alter a few things about yourself, he’ll support you. Whatever disorders you had in the past, he knows how to care for them and you, he’ll make sure you eat well and treat yourself. You’re his and he isn’t going to let human standards take you away from him. Body image is something that he tries to keep perfect as much as he can and the clothes that you wear are an important factor in how you feel. He’ll change your wardrobe- steadily, of course- and allow you to feel better with what you wear. The clothes will be there to help frame your body in a more flattering way than anything baggy could ever, and he’ll have you model for him, taking pictures and uploading them to Devilgram just to show off how cute you look.
Asmodeus is the Avatar of Lust. He’s the narcissistic fifth born who loves himself and everything beautiful second to only himself. He values how he looks and takes great care of his body. He can be catty and whip out insults in less than a second. But, he is a caring lover, someone soft and sweet, attentive to the needs of his lover. Human beauty standards are something that he understands but he is a demon. He is monstrous and ugly, blood pouring from his hands and forever fretting over how he looks. You, however, are none of those things. You are soft, caring and sweet. You care for him, not the lustful part of him, but for the demon that he is. He’s sorry that he let you believe that he wouldn’t love you, that your marks are blemishes that stain your beauty, but you have to understand that they aren’t. He'd never reject your body, he’d hold you close and let his hands soothe over the parts you dislike while he tells you how gorgeous you are, muttering his praise until your heart beats against your chest and he’s giggling at your reactions. Until you’re gone, he’ll lay in his bed, arms spread wide that his fingertips can barely reach the edge of the bed and he’ll smile to himself, his heart fluttering and chest feeling light, knowing that he made you smile.
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plush-rabbit · 5 days ago
Heya I sent in a request with the 🙇‍♀️ emoji? Hopefully it went though!
Mwah 💋
It went through!!
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plush-rabbit · 6 days ago
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i really like when people comment on like older works of mine because ill look back and be like damn, i wrote this huh. but it's really sweet and i love the reblogs and comments and i wanna respond but them i let time pass and i think im being weird for interacting so lte but know that i appreciate yall
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plush-rabbit · 6 days ago
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I Want To Hear You Say It
Chapter 6: Pitiful Reflections In The Mirror
Word Count: 3.2K
A/N: If you’re still reading this, I’m so sorry for the long wait
Prev.
You can feel eyes on you. Never blinking, always watching, you feel something- or more accurately- someone watching you. It could be all in your head. Of course it would be all in your head- he doesn't have the time to watch you. And, from what he told you, his friends, or rather teammates, don’t know about you either. You’re still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But, it doesn’t matter. You realize that. No matter what happens now, all of it is out of your control. Freedom will always be a mockery to you, you can go and hang out with friends, work, lay around in your home, but it won’t ever be your home, you can’t ever go and hang out with your friends with the certainty that he isn’t watching, that he isn’t lurking in your home and peeking through your thing, you can’t promise to yourself that he doesn’t have connections to the real world, to the civilian world or hero society. You’ll always be watched, never a moment of peace, always fearful that he could be watching you. You can’t ever be yourself alone, you can’t lie in bed and waste the day away. It makes you sick. You want to vomit, you can feel your stomach churn but you are unable to do anything about it.
The only silver-lining to this is that he cares for you- in his own way and not the way that you dreamt of when you would consume media. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. Right? You frown. You can’t remember if he did that or not. You can only remember his eyes. Those red colored eyes, unforgiving, murderous eyes that are stained with blood, eyes that hold false innocence when he looks at you. A part of you wonders if you would have actually liked him if he weren’t himself but you quickly scowl at the thought. You don’t want to romanticize him. You don’t want this situation to be painted with pink.
It’s all too much too soon. It’ll always be like this. You want to ask him more. You want to know why. You want to pass him off to someone else and make it their own problem.
Thunder booms outside, a deep rumbling that always comforts you and it still does. You stare at the sliding door that leads to the small balcony. Water drips against it, soothing and constant, a steady pace that does not falter and does not pick up speed. The movie you were watching on your laptop has been paused long ago, the killer’s face frozen on a screen that slowly dims and goes black, your reflection against it. If you try hard enough, you can hear the drips against the formed puddles. There is only silence, the clock in the room tics and tocs, the time moving forward, staring at you, the eyes of the cat-shaped clock moving back and forth. You rise from your seat on the couch and walk towards the sliding door, the blanket wrapped around your body and you think for a moment that things are okay, that what is going to happen, is something for you to worry about in the future. Water races down to the base of the door and you cheer internally for one droplet, smiling when it merges with another and gains speed.
For just a moment you are alone. You think that whatever he has or has not implanted in your home- small cameras, listening devices, anything of that sort- does not exist. Your lips are dry and acid pools in your mouth and burns your throat. The rain is soft, beating against the earth as people scurry home. You see children clad in raincoats and rainboots, splashing against the puddle and enjoying their youth, you see lovers walk hand in hand, you see the lone person with an umbrella held tight in their hand. In the reflection, you see yourself- heavy eyes fresh with unshed tears, worry-bitten lips and a sickly glow around you.
“I,” you start off slow and break the tranquility in your home, “I need to write down a list of questions.” You lose your breath quickly, huffing and puffing by the end of your sentence. “It’s-” you want to find out more about him but you can’t even say the words out loud- “I’m insane.” You stare at your reflection, and it’s becoming harder to breathe. “I can- I can go away. I can reject and scream and cry. I can pound on the walls and call for a hero.” Your voice cracks and tears pool in your eyes. “So why don’t I?” Why don’t you? What’s stopping you? “He isn’t here right now. I can-” your voice falls into a low whisper- “I can do something.” You cry and it feels like a waste. You are unable to find a reason to push away from him even though the reasons are clear. You feel sorry for the man that you saved from the streets, bleeding and unable to fight back. You thought that he was cute and thought about him, you let him stay in your home and you reason to yourself that it’s valid to want to find out more about him, but all the same, he is a villain, he has eyes red like blood and pale skin adorned with scars, he has rough hands that grip you with an unwavering hold and lips that are cracked. He is someone full of pain and cruelty, and yet, he promises nothing but love towards you.
You stagger back to the couch and you have to close your eyes. You can’t stare at your reflection- you can’t bear to see yourself deteriorating away. You can’t look at how utterly alone you are. You curl in on yourself and let tears fall and this is all your fault. You don’t know what’s stopping you from seeking out help. You don’t know why you convinced yourself to not tell a soul. You don’t know why you have to be so alone right now. You have no one to talk about this with. You sob and turn your head so your tears catch on the cushion of the couch, the blanket pulled tighter around your body and you are alone in this. You are alone for the cold and rainy night.
Your door creaks open and you don’t know whether to sit in your pitiful state, to hope that the intruder feels uncomfortable enough at the site of your brokenness to leave or if they would put you out of your misery. The door shuts and you close your eyes and bite the insides of your cheeks until it’s painful, the soft flesh tearing when you tighten your jaw. You whimper and hug yourself closer and you can hardly breathe and you don’t know what you hope for, what is a better option- for him to show up and try to comfort you or an intruder to commit a heinous crime. You’ve cried about being alone and now that someone has stepped into your home, you fear the attention and comfort of another.
The couch creaks and hands touch your face, cloth and skin that mix and catch your tears and you’re staring at him, red eyes that stare at you and his mouth moves but you are unable to hear. Confusion must linger on your face and he’s rubbing his thumb over your cheeks, catching tears. His ring and pinky fingers are clad in black, his nails painted black as they drag against your cheekbone. The fabric is soft, tracing against your jawline as it catches fallen tears.
“Did someone hurt you?” You shake your head “no”. “Was work difficult?” Another negative answer. He sighs and his head dips down. Your crying has gone from sobbing to snivelling. “Are you overwhelmed? With this-” he clears his throat- “our relationship.” He’s so careful with his words and you can only nod your head. He’s silent and you’re terrified. You don’t know who he is. You rescued an injured man, thinking you were doing a good thing, that you were putting something good out in the world but you couldn’t have thought that this would happen. That he would be a villain.
He’s quick to wrap his arms around you and you’re stiff for just a moment with wide, fearful eyes as you squeal in shock. He’s warm and smells like rain, droplets of rain lingering against him and your need for comfort takes over as you immediately fist your hands into his hoodie, pushing yourself closer to him. You lay your head on his shoulder, facing his neck that is lined with faint scars and red lines. You breathe in heavily, the scent of rain and musk filling your lungs. His hold on you is tight as you lay against him gasping and whining when he shuffles under you, pulling you closer to him, legs bumping into each other, and he’s nothing short of polite, hands still as they rest on your back, never sliding below your shoulder blades.
Maybe there’s something wrong with you. There has to be. Because just as he finally settles, you lean towards him. You tell yourself that it’s only because you’re human and you’re in a vulnerable state and you crave the contact that he gives you, you crave the only comfort you’ve received in a long time and you cry softly tears burning as they trace down the curve of your face.
You open your mouth to speak, but he’s quicker than you are. “You always cry because of me.” You can’t deny that. “Have you ever cried like this before?” His words are tight, holding back anything spiteful that he can say and you can feel the press of his hands push deeper into you. You’re unsure if he’s trying to steady himself or try to warn you of your next answer.
Your eyes open, only meeting black and the soft, pale blue of his hair and you nod your head. “Yeah, probably.” The blanket is heavy above you. “Maybe not for the same reason but I have.” Maybe if he weren’t a villain you could have liked him as well. You may not be a romantic, but you can appreciate the tropes when you’re faced with them. “Tomura?” You still call him by his name. His name is nice, you find it to be pretty, and you want to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he would keep his promise.
“Yes?” His arms are tight around you, outside of the blanket and you worry that he is cold.
“Why did you visit?” He walks in, comes into your home acting as if he is welcomed, and you lay above him. A part of you wants to continue crying, to reach a part of his humanity and have him leave you. Another part that you don’t want to recognize, believes that liking him will be much easier. That it will be easier than having this continous stream on mental torture. “This- I could have put a trap or something. Let you be caught by the authorities so I wouldn’t have to deal with you.” You roll your lips, wetting them with your tongue and you hold onto him as if he is your lifeline.
“I missed you.” You hate how your body heats at the words. You were sure that if it were anyone else, you would have flushed and hugged the person back, but instead you lay there with furrowed brows. His chest rises with an inhale and dips with an exhale. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anybody or felt the way that I feel for you for anyone else.” His heartbeat quickens and you wonder if he’s aware that you can feel it, that you can hear the pulsing, the thump in his chest as it echoes in your ears. “It’s an odd feeling. I mean it when I say that you showing me kindness made me fall for you. It’s a sickness that I don’t understand. I don’t want to kill you, I don’t want to let you go. You’re so pretty and I just want you to stay with me. Do you remember when you brushed my hair?” You nod and he continues. “Do you remember what you said about being a good person?” You whisper a soft “yes”. “That’s why I keep coming by. I know you wouldn't have contacted them. I’ve put so much trust in you that I’m sure you would never break it. I’ll keep watch over you just to make sure you’re safe because I trust you.” Your heart beats against your chest, and heat flames against your body. “I want to tear this hero society down, to have it burn and crumble under me and the ones who follow me. I want nothing more than to rid the world of heroes.” For some odd reason, you don’t find his words chilling. You blame it on the exhaustion. “But I want to protect you. To keep you safe, perched on my lap, protected and pure.”
You stay silent and so does he. He offers no more words, no more words of persuasion, or declaration of love. You think that this would be a nice parting, to have him tell you some spiel about he has to leave you to keep you safe, but, for the first time in a long time, you’ve been offered comfort, you’ve been offered love and it’s warm and addicting and when you think of him leaving, it hurts. It actually hurts. And so, you pull yourself closer against him, fixing the blanket and he stays quiet, his eyes watching you until you fix the blanket and drape it over your body, and over his arms. He’s silent, and when you fix yourself above him, lowering your body until it’s flushed against his, he turns to his side and you go on yours, and you hold onto the faded black sweatshirt that smells like cheap alcohol and cigarettes.
The rain fills the room and you can hear your phone vibrate, it's muffled and low, and while you have curiosity, wondering who it could be so late into the night, you also don’t want to move. He wants to keep you safe. He’s intimidating, stalking towards you, watching and you know that he has killed, you know that his hands reek of death, that the ash of the world is embedded in him, staining his soul and being with everything bad, but he promises to keep that away from you. He holds you and instead of fear, it’s an odd relief that makes you feel weightless, stomach light and shoulders loose, tears finally dried in a room that flashes bright, white light. To anyone who were to peep into this moment, they would see two lovers embracing, chest-to-chest, arms around each other, blanket covering both, and you’re against the cushion while he teeters on the edge, he keeps you safe from the cruel fall to the floor. You can feel his lips tentatively press against the top of your head, and you don’t fight the smile that rises. You don’t try to bite it down, you accept that it’s easier to love him, to befriend that lonely individual who offered you a shoulder, someone who would understand you, someone who has shown to have no grievances as you talk about him.
“I… I think it's easier to hate you than it is to love you,” you whisper, a tightening in your throat as you let the words out. “There are so many reasons to dislike you, you know? You’re cruel, you’re mean, you’re a villain, you’ve killed people.” You lick your lips and you’re unable to find more reasons. You don’t know him, and you fear that when you do, you’ll start to fall for him.
“Anything else you want to add?” He questions, his voice matching yours. You can feel his eyes on you. “I won’t get mad at you. I know you would have been less than willing for this relationship so the least I could do is answer any of your questions or hear you out.”
Tomura Shigaraki holds you, and it’s comforting. He’s tall and lanky, thin arms that are covered with faded black, hold you, and you are kept safe, long after you’ve fallen asleep. He forces himself to stay awake, wanting to relish in the moment for seconds longer. He wants to hear the soft breaths, wants nothing more than to hold you, to let the memory cement in his head that you chose to fall asleep beside him, that you kept him under the same blanket as you sleep in.
All the questions in your mind suddenly blip out of existence and you lie there with closed eyes, sleep clinging onto you in it’s thick grasp. You can only think of one question, one thing to satisfy you for the night where you’ve accepted Tomura’s presence. “What’s going to happen? I mean- what happens to-” you pause, trying to find the correct word, “us” feeling too strange and “relationship” not yet something that you are ready for- “whatever we have if you get caught?” Your heart slows and your stomach drops. “Or what happens if I get caught? I don’t think I could survive prison,” you mutter, “I like bubble tea a bit too much.”
His hold on you tightens by a smidge. “I won’t get caught. I’d rather than have that happen.” A chill runs down our spine at his words. “And if you get caught, you lie between your teeth. You tell them I blackmailed you and if that doesn’t work, I’ll get you out of prison.” His hand finds yours, cloth and calloused fingers against yours as he holds it tight. “I’m not going to let you rot in there. I’ll find a way to break you out of anything. I promise.” His thumb runs over yours as if to solidify the promise. You nod your head, a yawn tearing through your body, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Are you tired?” You nod, shifting yourself against him, your leg sliding in between his. “Get some rest. I’ll protect you.” His lips are against the crown of your head. “It’s been a long night for you, I’ll stay here and keep you warm.”
-
You awake without Tomura, blanket pulled up to your shoulders. You awake alone. Your phone buzzes, muffled and heavy sounding, with a heavy body, your arms and legs kick from underneath the blanket, and by the time you’ve made your way out, the buzzing stops.
Surprisingly, you are fine. You are groggy, but you are fine. You are warm, body still heavy with sleep, mind finally starting to awaken and you are okay. That’s the thing that surprises you the most. You understand that he wouldn’t hurt you, that has finally gotten cemented into your head and it fills you with a different kind of relief. You’re glad to know that you are under his protection, you’re glad that for whatever will happen in the future, you’ll be protected in a way that matters to him. You rise slowly and stretch your arms over your head, the sun shining through the blinds and the birds singing a sweet song as you rub the sleep from your eyes.
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plush-rabbit · 6 days ago
Hi bestie!! Omg "Blossoming Love" was SO god holy shit. I looked through your masterlist and I have a lot of reading to do so expect me to message you again at some point oop- 😳 anyway, just a reminder, I'd recommend putting warnings at the beginning of a fic for people to know what to expect. For example "Blossoming Love" had a lot of dub-con/non-con going on and the reader was a virgin and some people may be uncomfortable with that or some people may be looking for that specific thing, so it makes it easier for them to distinguish. Thank you for sharing your work with us, it's REALLY good!! I hope you have a great rest of your day uwu
Okay, first of all!! Thank you so much for this message!! It's an earlier work of Kendo and I appreciate the ask/comment!! I have such a soft spot for Kendo because of how big he is!!
Second, oh!! I legit had it fly by that it didn't have warnings!! Thank you for the notice!!
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