seen from China
seen from France
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Japan
stop putting ur shitty ass oc in the x reader tag
Me when y/n is acting like a little fucking child for male validation
me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*
FLINCHED - MULTI
-when his anger is taken out on the wrong place in the wrong time- angst
You heard the door slam before you saw him.
Heavy, rushed steps. Keys tossed onto the console. His bag hitting the floor with a thud that echoed down the hallway.
He didn’t even say hello.
You were already in the kitchen, apron still on, a dish towel over your shoulder and his favorite food still hot on the stove. You had candles lit — just two, small ones, nothing dramatic. You just… wanted to make him smile. You missed his smile.
So when he walked in, stiff-shouldered and scowling, you tried anyway.
“Hey, baby,” you said, gentle, trying to meet him where he was. “Rough day?”
He didn’t answer.
You took a step closer, hands still in the dish towel. “I made—”
“Why is it so fucking dark in here?” he snapped, voice sharp like glass. “I can’t even see anything—can you turn a goddamn light on for once?”
You froze, blinking.
“I— I just thought the candles would be—”
He scoffed, brushing past you, hand running through his hair, exasperated. “Jesus. I come home to this after the shit I’ve been through?”
You swallowed hard. “I didn’t know it would be this bad. I thought maybe—maybe it’d help. I made your favorite.”
You lifted the dish — still warm, perfectly plated, just the way he liked it. Your hands were trembling.
And maybe it was the wrong moment, or maybe he didn’t mean it at all, but he looked at it — looked at you — and said,
“I don’t need you hovering over me. I need space. Just—fuck. Stop trying so hard.”
Silence.
Your fingers shook.
Something in your chest cracked. Not loud — soft. Like the quiet break of something that had been held together too long.
“I was just trying to make you happy,” you whispered.
The dish clattered — not shattered, just dropped onto the counter as your hands fell away. Your breath hitched. The tears came faster than you could stop them.
And then he reached for you.
“Shit—wait, wait—baby, I didn’t mean—”
You flinched.
Like he’d slapped you. Like his voice alone had scorched the space between you.
his eyes widened. His hand froze midair.
You were already turning away — stumbling, shoulder brushing his as you ran past, up the stairs, into the bedroom, the soft sound of a door clicking shut behind you like a final period at the end of a sentence you didn’t want to write.
Downstairs, he stood in the kitchen. Staring at the plate you made. The food untouched. The candles still flickering softly. Pushing back the hair out his eyes
And all he could think was
she was scared. I made her fucking... flinch
TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau @ravenbc @shezuannn @greekyoghurtwithberries @laslowchan @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ethxrxxlity
A/n: angst for the baddie that requested this
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
[Masterlist]
He doesn’t say “I love you” often.
He just brings home your favorite drink without asking.
He buys the ugly little pink plushie you pointed at one time three weeks ago and tosses it on the bed like it's no big deal. Doesn’t even look at you. Just mutters,
“Figured you’d like it. Don’t make it a thing.”
It is a thing. Your chest is full.
You once complained offhandedly about your favorite ramen spot being closed for the day.
The next day he made you ramen. From scratch. With a scowl on his face and flour on his nose.
When you get cold, he doesn’t ask. Just grumbles,
“Come here,” and throws a blanket over both of you. arm around your waist, hand rubbing your hip under the fabric.
When you’re sick, he doesn’t say a word. Just disappears and comes back with four bags of medicine, three different kinds of soup, and a plushie shaped like a strawberry cow.
The cashier asked if it was for his kid.
He said, “No. For my wife.” And then made direct eye contact until the guy stopped smiling.
He doesn’t show his love loudly. He just gives you the last bite of his food without asking. He puts himself between you and the street when you walk. He silently kneels to help you tie your shoe if you’re struggling with the laces. He gets irrationally angry if your socks are wet.
“Why didn’t you tell me your feet were cold? What am I here for then?”
And when you tell him you love him? He freezes for a second, ears going red. Then mutters, voice low,
“…You know I love you too. You always know.”
DESVYN
18+ men who cry when they eat you out!! - tw dacryphilia
He’s on his knees between your thighs, shoulders trembling before his mouth even touches you. The first long, slow lick makes his breath hitch—sharp, almost pained, and when he presses his tongue flat against your clit, a low, broken sound escapes him. Not a moan. A sob. Muffled against your wet heat, shoulders shaking harder as he laps at you like a man starved and grieving at the same time.
Tears slip down his cheeks, warm and silent, mixing with your slick on his jaw. He doesn’t stop. Can’t stop. His hands clutch your hips like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded while he cries into your pussy; soft, ragged whimpers vibrating through your core every time he sucks your clit between his lips.
You thread your fingers through his hair, gentle, and he shudders harder, another quiet sob muffled right against your entrance as his tongue pushes inside. He’s messy, desperate, cheeks streaked and shining, eyes squeezed shut like the taste of you is too much and not enough all at once. “Fuck,” he chokes out against you, voice wrecked and wet, “you taste so good—please—please don’t stop me—”
He’s crying openly now, tears dripping onto your thighs as he buries his face deeper, tongue working frantically, nose pressed to your clit. Every sob makes his whole body jerk, but he never pulls away. If anything, he presses closer, like he’s trying to crawl inside you, like the only place he belongs is here, drowning in you. When you come, hard, thighs clamping around his ears, he breaks. A full, helpless sob tears out of him as he licks you through it, drinking every pulse, every gush, crying harder with gratitude or overwhelm or both.
His face is a mess, red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks, your slick smeared across his lips and chin, but he looks up at you like you’ve just given him salvation. He doesn’t speak right away. Just rests his wet cheek on your inner thigh, breathing shakily, still sniffling while his hands stroke your sides in slow, reverent circles. Eventually, he whispers, hoarse and thick, “Thank you,” against your skin, like you’ve done something holy by letting him fall apart on his knees for you.
so starved for content I might go to the real hellsite (wattpad)
“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”
i think we need to work on you first.
