WARNING!!!!

[id: a light blue userbox with a soft orange border, in the left is a picture of sunny from omori, a character with black hair, dark eyes, wearing a collared white shirt and a black vest, and orange text that reads “this user’s comfort character is sunny”]

Hello, I saw a request with bsd x tall reader, could you please do the same but with a short reader? I'm only 5 feet and very insecure about my height 😅 It's okay if you don't want to of course <3

⊹ note. . . hi ! we short girlies need some love too （☆/＞u＜/）this was so very fun to write so thank u for requesting ! I only added dazai n chuuya bc these are longer than the tall reader one. if y'all want a pt2 of this with some other characters lmk :D happy reading & I hope u enjoy ~ (mdni)

dazai thinks you're absolutely adorable. this man thinks everything about you is perfect and he definitely let's you know. calling you his cute little girlfriend− heavy emphasis on the 'little' part. he thinks the height difference between the both of you is adorable, he can easily pick you up and twirl you around− heartbeat quickening as he relishes in the sweet sound of your giggles.

if you're insecure about your height, he could already tell from the beginning. how you'd fidget and smile awkwardly when someone mentioned the height difference between you and your partner− soemome even mistook you for a little sister because of how tiny you were compared to him. he'd pay no mind to them, not even laugh as it clearly made you uncomfortable and bad about yourself and that's the last thing he wanted. he'd wrap an arm around you securely before stating that you're actually his lover, his sweet belladonna, making the person apologize profusely for their mistake. he'd also whisper reassuring words to you, patting your head as you tell him about your insecurities and imperfections. he'd provide you with the comfort you need, telling you that he'll love you no matter what, and that he found your height absolutely adorable.

in bed, he'd find your tiny figure convenient. he loved the way he could bend you into any position he wanted− even picking you up easily to thrust up into that needy cunt of yours. he'd also love to manhandle you, pushing you to reach past your limits. dazai would laugh meanly at your tears flowing down your cheeks like waterfalls− plowing into you ruthlessly as if he wanted to break your pussy.

as much as he liked being rough, he could also be soft− caressing your fragile body with careful and calculated touches as he rocks into you− moaning into your shoulder when you clench around him particularly tight. god, it all felt so blissful to him− the way you would smile and giggle as he kissed every inch of your heated skin, soft 'pap pap pap!' sounds bouncing off the walls of his bedroom as his hips collided with your plushness. he'd tell you how much he loves your body− showing you how much he adores you and nothing in the word could change that. . . ♡

chuuya would love love love your height. you two were a match made in heaven, really. you were absolutely perfect for him. I mean yeah, you're short, but shorter than him? oh, he's jumping up and down and thanking the gods− finally a blessing in his eventful life.

he'd love the way he doesn't have to get on his tippy toes to kiss you− and how you fit perfectly into his arms. he'd show you off everywhere and to everyone− boasting about his super cute girlfriend to his fellow mafia members. even brags about you to dazai at some point, who only rolls his eyes at your boyfriend and telling him, "yeah yeah whatever, she's too good for you anyway," earning him a punch on the face.

if you're insecure about your height− chuuya will do anything in his power to help you feel better. drilling words of encouragement and comfort into your head and how much he cherishes you. he'd buy you anything to make you feel better− even if it's momentarily. he'd even get you 5 inch stilletos or platform boots if that helps− but would constantly remind you that you don't need them. he loves you, and he wants to show you.

thats exactly why he'd have you splayed out in front of the giant mirror in your room− making you watch as he fucks all those nasty thoughts about yourself away. he'd force you to give praise to yourself− of course, he'd praise you as well. but he needs to hear you being kind to yourself, not picking apart your body and imperfections.

he'd make you look at your lewd face in the mirror as he drills into you from behind, tits bouncing with each harsh thrust of his narrow hips. he'd groan words of reassurance and praise into your ear, nibbling on your lobe to hear you gasp and whine for him. chuuya would overstimulate you again and again− not stopping till you're too brainless and fucked out to even think any harsh things about yourself. . . ♡

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

For all self-shippers who needed to hear this: your fav loves you.

Don't listen to those who say "he would never love you", "he would kill you and not love you, stop dreaming".

If self-ship makes you happy, nothing should bother you. If it supports you, don't listen to anyone. Continue!

And for those skeptics who spoil people's fun, I want to say one thing: touch the grass on the street. Seriously.

[id: a light blue userbox with a pastel blue border, and pastel blue text that reads “this user can’t tolerate loud sound and cover their ears when it hear them”. on the left is an image of a pastel blue heart emoji. /end id]

having a demon boyfriend would be so great because you could hang your shopping bags on his horns and hold hands while buying groceries

Just started Drivers Ed and I already don't like driving on dirt or gravel roads...

i love every part of you, lee minho.

pairing: lee know x reader

I do not claim that this is an actual representation of anyone.

a/n: ok i said i will be ia for a while but i've had this in my drafts for a long time so i just decided to finish it lmao,,+ the outfit issue he had some days ago, also inspired me to finish it lol

warnings: body insecurities, angst, fluff

2022 © hiy-breadcheeks– don't copy, repost, or translate.

════════════ ⋆♡⋆ ═════════════

You don't really have interest in social media, especially in twitter where you know a lot of problematic things happen, but you were glad curiosity took the best of you tonight.

Your boyfriend went to the bathroom not longer than a minute ago and he left his phone opened beside you on the bed. Now, both of you trusted each other enough to not mind when either of you looked at each other's phones so you decided to just look at what his fans were saying about your very talented boyfriend.

"THROW IT BACK AND FUCK IT UP LEE MINHO!!!!!" said one of the fans with a video of him attached, you giggled. "whST THE FUCJ DOES HE THINK HE'S DOING???? MY HEART IS TOO WEAK?????" a reply said, you nodded in agreement. The charisma you posses, Lee Minho... you thought.

You exited the tweet and scrolled further, your smile dropping to a frown.

"Look how frustrated he is. Somebody gonna get fired tonight, a styling staff specifically." A video of Minho fixing his outfit while looking obviously frustrated and uncomfortable was going viral amongst his fandom. Nothing was said against him, but mostly against the stylist. Saying how they should dress them better, complaining to his company, asking for the stylist to get fired, etcetera, etcetera.

You were starting to get angry as well because you knew damn well why Minho was acting like that, even more when you started to piece it together. You knew something was wrong when he came home earlier without a word or acting weird whenever you asked him if there was something wrong. You knew he was in a bad mood but you never pressed him to say anything because you knew he'd tell you if it really bothered him.

When Minho came out of the bathroom, he saw you scrolling through his phone with your eyebrows furrowed and he did nothing but sigh. He was planning to tell you but he guessed you found out before he had the chance to. Slowly, Minho made his way back to your shared bed. "Hey..." he said quietly, taking his phone when you handed it back to him, turning it off before placing it on the bedside table.

You did nothing but give him a small warm smile, your anger being replaced with worry and sadness. "I... I'm sorry, I just–" you cut him off with a kiss on his cheek. "No need for apologies, baby. Just tell me what's bothering you." you said, intertwining your hand with his. Minho took a deep breath, "I... don't like it. I hate... I hate the scar." you sighed deeply as you stared at your intertwined hands that he keeps fiddling with—a habit that you knew brought him comfort.

"Hmm, haven't we talked about this?" you whispered, taking your free hand and placing it where the scar was.

"I know, but when... w-when you work in an industry where your b-body and face a-are one of the main factors of–of that job... it's h-hard to ignore it, baby." he said in a shaky voice, you continued to stare and said nothing. "You don't know how many stays are asking us for... f-for ab reveals and stuff...ha" he slightly laughed at his own words, making you smile sadly, pulling him closer to you so you can lay on his chest. "You know they'll understand if you're not comfortable with it, right? Your fans love you, bubba. They're not leaving just cause you can't show a part of you."

"I know that, but I just want to do well. I want to sing well for them, to dance—but I can't do neither of those things when I'm too focused on my appearance. I can't dance well because it's not comfortable when my hair gets in the way, when my concept outfit gets in the way, and..." he paused, you looked up at him, kissing your forehead before speaking again, "and when I'm aware that there's a chance that my scar will show...just like what happened on the music show earlier..." he sighed. "Baby, you know how strict this industry is about our appearances. It's enough that people see me as cold, rude, emotionless– I don't want to look ugly in front of them too..."

You detached yourself from his chest and sat up, facing him with a smile, and because he was laying down, he needed to look up at you to give you a confused smile. "Do you remember when you first showed me your scar?"

"Tch! Of course, I do. I was nervous and embarrassed as hell, how could I forget?"

"And do you remember what I did after?" he said nothing and just nodded.

You lowered yourself so you can face his stomach, slowly pulling up his shirt and exposing his long surgical scar. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on yours that had the rest of his shirt crumpled in, "B-Baby–" you kissed his lips "Shhh.." you shushed, lowering your head again, smiling when you saw his stomach physically tensed.

You hummed as you lowered your lips and kissed every inch of his scar, slowly, lovingly... I love every part of you, Lee Minho... you thought as you kissed him.

He stared at you as you gave him the comfort he needed– the comfort he needed exactly from you. As you kissed his stomach where his hated scar was placed, he realized, as he continued to do so over and over, again and again-- how lucky he was that he found someone that loved him despite his flaws. He was thankful to no one but you because it was only you that made him feel so loved. How do you always manage to make me the happiest whenever I'm the saddest? he thought.

His smile grew bigger every kiss, his love for you grew stronger each time your lips touched his skin.

When you placed the last and final kiss, you faced him with a smile on your face, it growing bigger when you saw how big his smile was as he looked back at you. "I love you so much, do you know that?" he asked, the sadness that was previously present in his face, long gone. "Hmm..." you pretended to think. "Maybe?" you answered playfully.

He raised his eyebrows and gasped, "MAYBE???" you laughed, adjusting yourself up again, kissing his hair, forehead, temple, kissing his nose–making him giggle, his cheeks, and finally, a long kiss on his lips. "Of course, I know it, silly. And you do know how I do?"

"How?"

"Because you're not rude, cold, nor emotionless. You're the warmest person I've ever met, Min. You never failed to make me feel your love and affection. You always make me feel so loved." he smiled, "That's funny because YOU make me feel the same. I always feel my insecurities shake in fear when you're around because they'll know they'd have no place on my body anymore because it's gonna be filled with all your love– what's so funny???" he asked when you started laughing.

"Baby, you're so cheesy, d'you know that? Shake in fear?? God... pfft!"

"Oh shut up! Hahaha" he laughed with you.

"Hmm... but I love you. All of you." you whispered, with a genuine smile on your face.

"I love you too..."

i hateeeee thissss!!! but i have no choice but to post it bc it'll turn more crappy if I continued editing and "fixing" it. tsh,,, hoped you enjoyed though ://

— ꒰ CITY(E)SCAPE !! ꒱ shuji hanma

synopsis: visiting your parents never seemed to work out in your favor. hanma seemed to notice the odd shift in mood whenever you were reminded of them—you moved for a reason after all

cw: depictions of cigarettes + smoking , strained familial relationship , hanma is a bit ooc , self-indulgent writing , comfort + fluff

words: 2.2k

ଘ lmk if i missed anything + reblogs are appreciated !

The tension was always suffocating whenever you decided to pay visit to your parents’ low-budget apartment you once called ‘home’. Though, you were one to talk—you moved out and were now renting a separate room in that exact same complex, just a few floors higher. You deemed it to be okay at the time; at least you didn’t have to deal with them breathing down your neck every day. Maybe one day you’d be able to escape the confines of this less-than-stellar location.

It was yet another day you’ve contemplated on your unspoken insistence to visit them. Maybe it was just natural instinct—a child worrying about their parents and checking up on them to make sure they’re at least in somewhat good conditions—but they’ve always seemed to hold a grudge on you ever since you told them about your plans to move.

It’s not like your parents were horrible people, it’s just that they could be too much sometimes. ’Helicopter parenting’ is what they would call it nowadays. They always seemed to have something to nitpick every time you decided to stop by. Always.

“He’s surely bad news.”

You sighed for what seemed like the tenth time since your arrival. You drowned out your dad’s comments on another one of your “delinquent friends” as he would like to call them. He wasn’t wrong per se, it was just the way the words fell out with such distaste from his mouth. If you were being honest, you couldn’t really blame him. You understood the distrust him, and many others, had for delinquents. You just wish your parents had a bit more faith in your taste in friends.

“What was his name again?” Your mother glanced over to your slumped figure on the couch. “Hanma...Hanma Shuji, right?”

You let out a small groan at the mention of his full name. You had met Hanma a few months ago, your presence piquing a small interest in him when he accidentally knocked you over after running out of some vacant alleyway.

Toppling over both you and your things, he slowed down his step and turned to you; now amused at the sight of your struggle.

After dusting yourself off, you sent a small glare his way before turning around and continuing on with your day, muttering a few words under your breath. “A little help would’ve been nice.”

“I don’t do those sorts of things.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he had to hear your little tantrum. To add insult to injury, he decided that it would be fun to follow you around like some sort of stray for the rest of the day as well, along with an occasional snide joke or two—it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

You two would look back on those events and laugh at it now. At least he was nice enough to stick around even after such a trivial encounter. Whenever you voiced out your wonder on the exact reason as to why, he would pass it off as him ‘simply enjoying the show’.

Having heard enough passive-aggressive comments directed towards your friend, you comb a hand through your hair, your hand staying stagnant to cradle your face for a few seconds. Standing up abruptly, you walk over to the front door and slip on your shoes, face blank as you ignore the tired stares from your parents. Your visitations were always short-lived; it was abnormal for you to last even a full 2 hours in there.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

No other words were said as you pulled open the door and walked out. Walking down the hall, your were met with pasty white walls and fluorescent lighting. It was so empty, so dreary. You drummed your fingers on your thigh while absentmindedly humming out a tune to keep yourself preoccupied from your thoughts.

The metal doors of the elevator finally came in your peripheral. Pressing a button, you didn’t have to wait long before the doors opened up, a slight drag to your steps as you pressed the button leading to the highest floor of the complex. In your short solace, the small chime from the loudspeaker kept you from zoning out for too long.

The top floor was significantly smaller than the rest—just a few apartments to the right of the elevator and another door parallel to it; the sign reading it to be the small set of stairs leading to the rooftop. Turning the doorknob, you winced at the harsh creek the door made, the chill of the cold night’s breeze kissing your face lightly. The wind whistled an audible tune as you trudged up the stairs quickly.

Reaching the top, you hunch forward and catch your breath, a visible cloud forming from your mouth whenever you exhaled loud enough. You huffed out a small laugh through chattered teeth before straightening up and examining the darkened sky above you. If you had to admit; it was a bit dull—the night was cloud-free, the moon was quite bright out tonight, and you could make out a few stars if you squinted hard enough.

Walking towards the edge, you seated yourself atop a few scattered crates, the added height allowing a clearer view of the city from above. The blur of cars and the multitude of colorful lights never failed to calm you down. It was always a nice sight to see whenever you needed a place to think—and tonight was no different.

Your mind drifted back to your parents’ shameless comments towards Hanma. It’s not like you haven’t tried to defend his ass either, yet they remained unchanging with their beliefs.

Replaying their words in your head caused your frown to deepen. Hanma really wasn’t as bad as they made him out to be—you learned that first hand. Shaking your head, you cleared your thoughts and distracted yourself with the view once more. The last thing you wanted right now was to be influenced by clouded judgement.

You clicked your tongue. “How stubborn..” You muttered out to no one in particular. ‘Guess it runs in the family..’

Keeping your gaze forward, you lean back slightly on your forearm, your other hand tracing small shapes into the rigid wooden crate you’ve found purchase on. The overbearing treatment your parents gave you coupled with the rowdy neighbors on your floor—you truly did appreciate calm moments like these.

It was kind of funny how sour your mood was right now. It was always small, unimportant matters that seemed to hit you the hardest—you almost had to laugh at the growing burdens you’ve kept to yourself. What else could you do?

“What a pain, huh?”

Your breath stuttered for a second. ‘That voice..’

Glancing to your side, your eyes widened at the sight of Hanma now stood beside your seated figure. He was leaning leisurely on the crate, arms perched alongside the edge with one leg propped up for balance. He leaned back, an infamous giggle leaving his lips as he breathed in the fresh air.

He craned his neck to face you, lax grin never leaving. “What’s gotten you so upset, hmm?” His tone seemed to poke fun at your misery, but you could easily pick out some worry. You let out a lighthearted scoff at his words and shot him a small smile. You knew he didn’t mean any harm; you’d come to familiarize yourself with his way of showing concern.

“Why are you here?” He noticed how you dodged the question, but decided not to dwell on it. You were curious as to how and why he knew you were here in the first place. He didn’t live here either.

“Can I not see you or something? I’m hurt.”

Hanma watched your face scrunch up in confusion before chuckling a bit. Once your laughter subsided, he opted to stop messing with you just this once.

“You visit your parents every Saturday. That’s all.” He drawled off, changing the focus of his peripheral to the vibrant colors of the city. He didn’t need to say anything more than that, sensing you’d catch on. He knew about your somewhat estranged relationship with them—the string connecting both parties was wearing thin.

Scooting back, you hauled your legs onto the wooden box, now sitting criss-crossed as you glanced over to see him joining you, keeping his legs over the edge.

He looked at you expectantly, thinking you’d say something. Yet, all you did was hum lowly with the wind, paying his prior words no mind. How odd. His face faltered at your lack of response. Maybe he had to be more upfront about it? That was something he couldn’t do, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone to try. If anything, it would hurt him more if he didn’t do anything to stop your little pity party.

“Are you alrig—“

“Pass me a cig.”

You both halted, mouths slightly ajar. Those words were so unlike either of you; hell, you’d think the other would’ve said it instead. He’s only seen you smoke a couple of times; mainly when it got too much for you. He frowned, slowly reaching into his pocket to fetch one from its box along with a lighter.

“You sure about this?” He didn’t want to reprimand you or anything—he smoked a lot more than you after all. All he received was a curt nod back as you quickly grabbed both items from his hand. Clumsily, you place the stick between your lips and strike the lighter a few times—a few times too many. You haven’t done this in a while, and you were more than just a little desperate to forget about everything for a little while.

Before you knew it, another pair of tattooed hands snaked themselves around your shaky ones, ceasing your movements altogether. You looked up to meet Hanma’s golden eyes, a small frown on his face as his brows knitted together in what could only be concern.

It all happened too quickly for your liking. Quietly, he scooted closer to you and moved a hand to snatch the cig from your mouth gently before leaning forward to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, surprising you. Leaning back just as quickly, he now had both the lighter and cig back in his possession as he smiled slightly at your bemused state.

“Like this idiot,” he mumbled, careful to not drop the cigarette now placed between his own lips. He cupped a hand near his mouth and lit it with ease, inhaling the familiar scent of nicotine. He paused for a few seconds before taking it out again, huffing out the smoke almost boredly. You examined him as he offered the cig back to you, refusing to look you in the eye in case you saw through his facade—he could blame the red tint of his cheeks on the cold as a last resort or something.

A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat as you grabbed the cig, your other hand grasping onto ‘sin’ itself. Hanma’s expression hardened, turning his head just in time to catch your lips on his, his eyes shutting at the sudden impact. You on the other hand were quite baffled. You were originally aiming for his cheek—similar to what he did—but ended up kissing him for real.

You were about to move away in worries that he would hate you after this, but stilled once you felt a callused hand coming up to rub the apple of your cheek almost affectionately, the other moving to latch onto your wrist once more. You took this as your sign to ease back into the kiss, your free hand reaching to weave through his already tousled hair. The wind seemed to cheer you two on as it grew louder, cigarette now long forgotten as died out a few seconds later.

You pulled away first, breathing heavily as you rested our forehead on his and closed your eyes. Hanma catalogued every detail of your face in his head, palm still flat on your cheek as you leaned into its warmth.

“I hope this isn’t some one time thing.”

“Have more faith in me, will you?” He huffed out before planting another quick kiss to your lips, using his index finger to playfully push you away afterwards.

He eyed the worn out cigarette on the concrete floor beneath you two, grabbing another one from his pocket. This time, he neatly placed it between your lips before handing you the lighter. He didn’t want to stop you in case you still wanted it. You send him a small look of gratitude before taking the lighter and lighting it up almost instantly, admiring the small, amber colored flame for a few seconds. You lit up the cig afterwards, letting the smoke whisk away your thoughts for tonight.

Hanma knew not to poke and prod at the topic of your parents for the rest of the night; he realized that when he examined the small, more genuine smile that played on your lips after you blew out a cloud of smoke. He was just glad he could keep you away from your problems for a while.

“Feeling a bit better?”

He felt a small weight on his shoulder as you leaned on him contently.

“Yeah.”

a/n: i swear i don’t have an addiction to writing about cigarettes or anything </3

Why do I always fall in love with people who are already taken. It hurts. What makes it worse is that they are the flirty friend ;-;